thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Cuthbert and Open
What| Extremely mature pouting and moping
Where| District 3 Suites, mostly
When| After his death and return to the Capitol
Warnings/Notes| none so far

Cuthbert Allgood is not taking his latest death well. It doesn't help that his fight with Sherlock is making the rounds in the highlight reel, and he's taking it harder than he has in the past. He hasn't talked to anyone so far, not even the avoxes who he will carry on half conversations with most of the time.

For someone who spends a lot of his time training normally he hasn't been further out of the District 3 Suites than to ride the elevator down to District 1 and back up. He hasn't even been able to get off the elevator to see someone he really wants to see.

Most people will find him wrapped up under a blanket from his room in the main District 3 eating area watching and (surprisingly) not commenting on their activities. All of this is abnormal behavior for him, not that he would notice or care at this point.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

If there were awards for petulance, Sherlock would win them, every year, without fail. It was sort of interesting to actual witness a contender for his throne, though.

"No. I'm saying if we do meet, I won't fight back." He doesn't really care if it is making Cuthbert feel worse (because what were feelings anyway), but he wanted to make a point.

"If it's all the same, I'd rather simply avoid you completely."

Except, you know, like now. And probably in the arena. And probably-- oh, well, it was meant well.

Cuthbert has many years of practice (although if some of his teachers could see him now they would be more likely to tan his hide than sympathize with him.)

"If they even let me into the arena again after that sorry performance."

He isn't even going to address the issues with that last statement.

Sherlock rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, even tilting his head to go with the roll.

"Oh please. If they let us out of the games so easily I would have been free months ago. Or dead. If they didn't want you here you'd simply never come back." He didn't mention the fact that he was actually relieved that Cuthbert had come back - somehow murder seemed a good deal less important when you could chat to your victim afterwards.

If the Capitol hadn't regenerated him...

Cuthbert sighs. It's obvious to him that he's being dramatic, but it's hard to stop when he's on a roll like this.

"You are very pathetic."

He tries to smile up at Sherlock but it feels weird and probably looks awkward. It's at least a step in the right direction.

Perhaps it's a weird thing to take as a compliment. Usually Sherlock didn't take any sort of slight very well, but there was this strange little part of him that was please that Cuthbert didn't really consider him capable of murder, despite having murdered him.

Pleased that someone didn't think of him as a psychopath.

So his lips twitched awkwardly in response and he only half smothered the smile as his hands clasped behind his back and he looked out the window instead.

"I'll take that as a compliment, considering," He said, a little haughtily. "I work very hard to ensure it."

He wouldn't be a psychopath in Bert's world, for better or worse. So Cuthbert had never thought of him that way. But he didn't have a whole lot of warm fuzzy feelings for a man who deliberately avoided fighting, which Sherlock definitely struck him as.

"You work hard to be soft?"

He was clearly amused by the concept.

"I work hard to be the only one to dictate my actions," Sherlock said smoothly instead. He could hardly claim to be soft, he thought. It had different connotations.

"I refuse to be manipulated and I refuse to bend to expectations unless I wish to. If the world expects me to be a killer, I see no reason to appease them."

"So you're fighting just so you can tell yourself you're not like them and sleep well at night? Just by being here you've been manipulated and used. It should make me no worse of a man for taking advantage of the skills I already possess."

It was easier to argue with Sherlock when he felt like he was in the right. So he was going back to what he knew, the things he couldn't question about himself.

"I could care less what you do, Cuthbert," Sherlock said with a solemn finality.

"As I said. You'll find your work easier next arena. As my particular set of skills is useless here, I see no reason to change myself into something to fit their whims. You can go on killing as much as you like."

"I might prefer not to meet you at all next time around. Just see to it that if you and I don't cross paths, that your partner and I don't exchange blows either. I'm fairly certain at this point that he is of the same mind on defending you as Karkat is on defending me."

Sherlock shouldn't really be the threat here, if he was going to lay down his arms. But that didn't mean John would be so accommodating.

"I can't speak for John," Sherlock said, his words quiet but firm.

"I've no interest in continuing any of this, but the most I can promise on his behalf is that I will speak to him. What he decides to do with the information provided is entirely at his discretion. As, I imagine, is Karkat's."

"I will have to speak to him, then, as well. And hopefully without you there." He shouldn't have to wonder about why Cuthbert doesn't want him there when he talks to John.

Cuthbert shifts again in his blanket cocoon and tries to make it clear that Sherlock can leave any time.

"Don't let me keep you here."

Sherlock let out a low sound - almost a snort - his skeptism at Cuthbert and John having a conversation of meaning without him very apparent. But he had no desire to stay much longer as it was so he raised his palms with a shrug.

"Then I won't," He said, simply, and didn't offer another word as he let himself out and shut the door with a bang.