hvbris

[hvbris]

𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Mr. Butcher's explanations had not particularly settled the Baudelaire children's worries. What was his place of work? And where was it? They had very little information about him, in fact they did not know what he did for work. Count Olaf had been some kind of failed actor, and so they hoped that Mr. Butcher was not one too -and was not taking them to some kind of theatre.

They climbed out of the van with some reluctance, and Violet wrinkled her nose. Little supes. "We have names, you know," she couldn't help but point out this time. "You don't have to call us Little supes. You can use our names." Had he forgotten their names? Or was he only interested in their abilities?

As they followed Mr. Butcher to what he called "his place of work," the three children came to regret that he had not taken them to some kind of theatre, after all. This was much, much worse. In fact, even Count Olaf's decrepit and crumbling manor had been in better shape than the basement they were now in.

Violet held Sunny tighter in her arms. This was no place for children. In fact, this was no place for anyone. The only upside to this no doubt disease-ridden den, were all the broken things. A leaky pipe. A destroyed sofa. A malfunctioning TV. All sorts of things Violet could see herself fixing -though she hoped Mr. Butcher was not hoping to treat them like servants, as Count Olaf had done. There were even weapon parts, which of course made the cogs in her brain begin to turn.

As for Sunny, she had spotted plenty of hard things to bite, though she was thinking about tetanus and other unpleasant diseases she might catch if she bit the wrong thing.

"This is where you work?" asked Klaus, stepping closer to his sisters. Unlike Violet and Sunny, he could see no upside to the basement. When it came to houses, he assumed it was fine to judge a book by its cover. A house was all cover, very little content. And this was one book he, for once in his life, did not care to read. According to Mr. Butcher, they would spend some time here. Some time, but not all the time, right? "When are we getting back to the apartment?"

So many questions and arguments with his decisions, he was used to that though with The Boys so he only smirked to himself as he lead the way through the building. "We're goin' to my place of work. Lil' bonding trip." He did at least answer without really answering anything. "Someon's lookin' for you, I'm not gonna go riskin' everythin' by 'aving you paradin' about like some sorta fuckin' carnival float in them uniforms and in a place the world can see. Nah, we're goin' somewhere more secure, so you gotta be careful, alright?"

They were at least following him and Butcher took that as agreement, more so when they climbed into the van as requested. Happy they were locked away for now, Butcher started the engine, put on some rock music and drove off to the basement he worked from with MM, Frenchie and Hughie. It was a good 25minutes before he pulled up and opened the door to let them out. "Well done lil' supes," he beamed and opened his arm wide to gesture to the apparently abandoned warehouse with the garage door he'd just driven through now closed.

"Welcome to HQ," he only half explained as he lead them through a large cold metal door with a safety push bar, down some stairs and into a dingey but large basement room. A grey concrete floor and white painted brick walls with a faded tide mark after a flood who knew how long ago. A patrician wall which was crumbling revealing an old couch frame on the other side through the gaps. A large make shift plastic sheet hanging from the pipe covered ceiling serving as another 'separate' room where the cushions from the seat of the couch were laid out. A leaky pipe dripping in the corner like a ticking clock, old desks with some computers, phones and a small array of weapon parts scattered about, a busted TV and some mismatched lamps scattered about to provide less harsh lighting than the white industrial lights above.

"'Ere we go," he smiled as he set the lost and found box and their case on one of the old tables and wondered further into the room. "I spend a lot of my time 'ere while I am workin' so... well, you'll be spending some time 'ere too." All of the time in fact! "There's a lil' fridge in the corner with some snacks and some fanta, toilet and shower's through there," he pointed to a bloated wooden door with the paint peeling off it. "I know it ain't much, but as you can see, no dumb fuck is gonna get in 'ere." Nor would any want to!

[hvbris]

𝐑𝐔𝐅𝐔𝐒 & 𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀 @uselessdevice

Mina took the hand he was offering her and shook it. Then, she sat down next to him, pretending to glance at the Mosasaurus' pool as the show started. She knew it by heart, anyway.

Covered by the sounds of "oooh" and "aaaah" that the audience was making, Rufus Poyntz immediately got down to business. "I can give you two hours," she replied frankly. It wasn't much, but it was probably more than he had hoped.

"Flattery will work great on me, Mr. Poyntz," she teased with a grin. But what he said was probably true, anyway. Mina was kind of a tech whizz in her own right, and she knew how to bypass the many, many firewalls and other security systems put in place by the park. "But two hours is the best I can do before they start noticing something is up."

@hvbris // & MINA

"Yes ma'am, that's me." He replied, offering his hand to shake. Ordinarily he would have stood up, being raised as a gentleman, but he knew it would look out of place even in the crowd. The less chance of drawing attention, the better. "Pleasure to meet you too."

The show was beginning, which meant they had more cover for their conversation. The eyes and ears of the surrounding public were turned towards the trainer on the podium, beginning their chipper introduction into a mic.

Behind her, there was movement in the water.

A gliding monster. Waiting to be fed.

"Once we start, we'll have to move fast. How long d'you reckon you can give me? They assured me you were the best we could've asked for up in the control room."

[hvbris]

𝐁𝐔𝐓𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑 & 𝐒𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐇𝐀 @multipleoccupancy

Undeterred by Mr. Butcher' sarcasm, Samantha only replied with a cheerful chuckle. "You can call me that if you want," she offered patiently, "or you can call me Samantha. Samantha Jacobs." Not her real name, though she used it so much that she often felt more like Samantha than Barbara.

Just Butcher, then. She could leave out the "mister" if he wanted. "Thank you, Butcher," she said, determined to stay lovely and pleasant no matter what. She wasn't sure it would work, and she doubted Grace was interested in her sunny personality when it came to this assignment. But she couldn't help herself. Samantha always looked on the bright side.

"Those are the members of your team, then?" she asked, looking around. They didn't seem to be here, for now. "What are you working on, these days?" She started to walk around the basement, looking at the damage. From up close, it looked even worse. Where did Butcher even sleep? There was no bed, only a broken sofa -where he apparently kept his crowbar. It wouldn't be too hard to buy a new sofa, she supposed. "Do you live here?"

Butcher clicked his tongue at Grace sending him 'help' and it seemed like she'd tried to send sunshine incarnate from the cheerful greeting he'd had. Was he being punished for something or was it some sort of test? He looked at her for a long moment in thought before a thought popped into his head. Grace must have sent her to him to toughen her up!

"Are you now?" He retorted for her looking forward to working with him. She'd obviously not been told about him if that were the case. Still Butcher coaxed out a smile from himself and tossed his crowbar back down to where he had been storing it next to the broken couch he was using as a bed. "You got a name to go by or are you just gonna be 'extra pair o' hands' for the foreseeable?"

"Bit of a fuckin' mouthful to be honest," he warned, he'd happily come up with a nickname for her if she preferred but he was doing his best to be as respectful as Butcher could get. "The Boys call me Butcher, so's you know. A curtesy I extend to you," he gestured at her and smiled but it wasn't a polite smile, there was just a glint of something malicious in there. Oh he was going to push buttons but first things first he thought he might be able to lure her into believing, even for just a moment, that he was 'professional' in his approach. "We've got Frenchie and MM, Hughie too when e's about. So s'up to you what you wanna be called."

[hvbris]

𝐌𝐘𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐀𝐑 @governmentofficial

"You'll look great," smiled Caesar, quite excited about their date. Though he still wasn't sure Mycroft knew it was a date. Should he make it clearer? It was admittedly a little bit awkward, but Caesar didn't get uncomfortable too easily -and anyway, wouldn't the misunderstanding be worse once they were at The Senate?

"I will pick you up with my chauffeur," he assured him quickly. Would that make his intentions clear? "And afterwards, I will bring you back. If you mother has a curfew for you, we'll respect it, of course."

Should he just be blunt, then? Or would that make Mycroft run away? Caesar didn't feel flustered very often, but he felt rather flustered now. He liked Mycroft. He didn't want the other man to think they were going out as friends!

"I'll wear my red jacket," Mycroft decided, nodding to himself at his own decision. It was a nice one and very much in line with his usual outfits, but it was also a little more 'interesting' than a lot of what he wore. That would be good, no? Caesar liked clothes like that, and if he thought that Mycroft could be somewhat fashionable too, perhaps he would want to spend time with him again - that was, assuming everything went well.

A rare smile had found its way onto Mycroft's lips. It wasn't a large one - not like Caesar's - but it was undoubtably present, and the other surely knew how uncommon it was. He found that he was already rather looking forward to the evening. Despite Mycroft's general disconnect from most things social, he was, at the end of the day, only human. He'd never admit it, but he could get lonely too sometimes. Maybe this was the start of something that could combat that. A friendship, maybe?

"Shall I meet you there?" Mycroft asked. He didn't offer to pick the other up, feeling reasonably certain that his mother wouldn't approve of it.

"How are we going to get home afterwards?"

Mycroft liked to know as many details as possible when it came to his upcoming activities, especially when he was going somewhere new.

[hvbris]

𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐕𝐈𝐍 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

Violet could feel the eyes on her as she walked, and she looked to the field, heartbroken to see the women standing there, staring back. They seemed worried about her, which only worried her more. She looked away when she heard the barking of orders, rattled. The urge to run was hard to fight, sending tingles down her legs. But she continued to walk beside Monsieur Candie anyway, feeling the hot sun of the South beating down on her neck -unavoidable and unforgiving.

It seemed he had bought her story, at least. But his gesture, which he had surely meant as comforting, sent shivers down her spine. He smelled like sugar and tobacco smoke, a pungent aroma that couldn't quite hide the scent of decay coming from his mouth. It made her nauseous. Even his southern kindness couldn't quite settle Violet's nerves, who wished he would put his hand away from her.

But she had what she wanted, she supposed. With her lie, she had bought herself some time to think. Monsieur Candie didn't see her as a trespasser, but as a helpless little girl running from bandits. And, content with the knowledge that the law would never find said bandits, Violet nodded shyly.

"That's mighty kind of you, Monsieur Candie," she sniffled. "I'm real lucky to have found you." The words left a bitter taste in her mouth, but she had to play the part. Offending him would do her no good.

"Much obliged, sir," she thanked again, for the tea and dress this time. He was not wrong, she was warm and flustered, but not for the reasons he thought. With his hands away from her shoulder, she kept walking to the big house, eyes darted to the ground. It made her look grief-stricken, at least. Violet remembered what it felt like, to learn her parents had perished in a fire. It wasn't too hard to look as miserable as she had felt then.

Calvin & Violet

Candie confidently walked beside her, very sure to keep her in his sights not for any fear of what she might do but it was such a strange situation that he felt he had to keep some sort of eye on her. The women in the fields were all slowing in their picking, looking to them as they walked. Some of them looked particularly worried, enough that they stood straight, covering their mouths, glancing at each other before the riders in the fields began yelling for them to get back to work. Candie, even upon feeling their eyes on him and hearing the barking of orders, did not bat an eye at the situation, it was far beneath him to react in his mind.

He listened to her story with some concern though and he did seem to soften as she explained. She stopped and he looked back up the road from where she had come from, wondering who might have attacked a family and naturally jumping to conclusions in what was already a fictional tale.

"Oh sweet lil' child," Candie seemed genuine in his sympathy, reaching out to put a hand on her shoulder in comfort. His grip was light and the proximity brought with it the sent of strawberries and sugar, a sickly sweet scent wrapped in a puff of tobacco smoke and under that lay the masked sent of decaying teeth. A man rotten from the inside out. "Don' you go upsetin' yourself now, you've gone and done the right thing. Bless your soft young heart," he put his free hand over his heart in turn as if they were anything alike.

"You can stay here until we sort this whole mess out, I'll get my men to talk to the law," of which Candie quite often used to his advantage when needed, the bribe money or otherwise solidifying his influence with them. "And they'll go lookin' for who might have done this to your family." He bent down until they were eye to eye, "an' you have my word that justice will be done." He retreated and let go of her shoulder. "Let's get you somethin' nice an' cool to drink and my sister, Lara Lee can fix you somethin' to change into. You must be mighty warm and flustered running through them there woods." He gestured for her to keep walking. "It's go'n be alright."

[hvbris]

𝐀𝐁𝐄𝐋 & 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐍​ @omniishambles​

At his comment, Harley let out a happy burst of laughter. “And here I am, aren’t I?” she simply replied, raising her eyebrows quizzically. She was back, she was always back. Drawn to the darkness of men like a moth to a flame. In a way, it made her feel better about herself. 

And anyway, she was damn good at her job. Case and point, right? Dr. Gideon was certainly more receptive to her than he’d been to his past psychiatrists. Not that Harleen could blame him, she couldn’t stand Dr. Chilton either. 

“Ah, yes. You’re far from being the poster child for marriage,” she teased, “but you have to know bad marriages usually end in divorce, not massacres. Was the paperwork too much trouble, then?”

[hvbris]

𝐋𝐀𝐖𝐑𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

The children followed High Commander Lawrence to their rooms, exchanging concerned glances with each other. Beth was his Martha, and he didn't seem too overly concerned with her touching his things. At the same time, he was adamant they don't do it. They were confused, and unsure what to make of him.

He only confused them more when he started listing all the things he had in his house -forbidden things. Violet supposed that powerful men were exempt of rules, but why would he tell them about all this? To rub salt on the wound? Or because he wanted them to use his things after all? She knew that the wrong answer could have terrible consequences.

When he concluded that he would give them things that they could take to their rooms, the three Baudelaire children realised that High Commander Lawrence was a complicated and bewildering man. But if he did give them things to do, forbidden things like reading or listening to music, then their time with him wouldn't be so terrible after all. A little part of them couldn't help but even be hopeful, a feeling they had not felt in a very long time.

"Thank you," Violet said, for the confusing promise and the crib -not assembled yet. Could she assemble it? Was it why he had left it that way? She couldn't help but feel excited. Finally something to build. And even though she wasn't a 100% sure she was allowed, just this once she decided she'd rather ask for forgiveness than permission. Assembling it wouldn’t be as bad as reading a book. Right? “We'll come down for dinner."

With that, Commander Lawrence vanished down the stairs, leaving the Children in Sunny's room. Violet lost no time at all. She tied her hair with her ribbon and began working on the crib. Klaus, who hadn't gotten anything to read yet, sat by her with Sunny on his lap, often glancing out the door. "He seemed to know what we liked," he pointed out as he watched his sister assembling two pieces of wood together.

"I don't know what to think of him," confessed Violet. "But if he truly gives us things to bite, things to build and things to read, then I guess we can't complain." It didn't change the fact that she would soon be married off, a thought so terrifying that sometimes Violet dreamed of running away with her siblings.

Once the crib was built, the three children left Sunny's room to go downstairs and look for the dining room. The house was colourful and full of prohibited things -like paintings Violet and Klaus quickly recognised, classics they thought had been long destroyed. It was a relief to see them, but it didn't make it easier to understand what kind of man Commander Lawrence was. "Commander Lawrence?" timidly asked Violet. It was about dinner time.

Carrots were simple enough, no one would deny his Marthas when they would ask for more vegetables. He hoped the children liked baked goods, while the network used it to communicate their confirmations of things it did mean that his house was always full of fresh and sweet smelling foods. Carrots could be added to the list if Sunny got through them faster than they could keep up.

He took the thanks from Klaus as some progress from the look of sheer hatred he'd seen seconds before. A room of their own each would go down well he supposed and in those rooms he thought they could hide things. There were spaces in the floorboards or skirting boards for them to stash items that were publicly banned. Not something he he would voice out loud and let them in on his nature.

"Good," he said of them not touching his stuff, "If Beth would listen half as good as you, I'd be able to find what I'm looking for when I want it." He grumbled moodily as he lead the way to the three rooms next to each other.

"I hope that you listen and do though," he then mused as he looked over them again. He didn't expect Sunny to comprehend it of course, she was exempt from such a rule. She wouldn't be able to read his coded records or hidden information on what the various baked goods meant, which commanders had which children, handmaids, marthas and where.

"I don't want sticky fingerprints on my CDs, tapes, phone," he listed off, all of the items banned from Gilead. Lawrence got away with having them for a reason, too powerful and respected to have anyone take them off of him. He never believed in the Son's of Jacob's beliefs but he did know it was causing issues with the 'rising' ranks of the governing body he'd put in charge. "Or on my books. Just- well I will give you things to take to your room, ok?" And he had ideas what to give, Violet no doubt would like paper and pencils to sketch her ideas, Klaus of course would like books, Sunny things to chew on and puzzle games. If Violet and Klaus were anything to go by then Sunny too would want to learn and have something to keep her brain busy, it was her who Lawrence wanted to help escape, just so she wouldn't be raised under Gilead as all she knew.

He opened the doors to the rooms and pointed to a crib that was in the middle one, "It's in here for convenience but you can sort it out yourself who is sleeping where, I don't really care," he said casually, though he had not assembled the crib, knowing that Violet would enjoy being able to do something with her hands, no doubt after being banned from such things after the coup. "Go and settle in and then come down for dinner, Beth will have prepared something, I don't really know what. We're not used to feeding children."

He was being awkward, he would give himself away if he carried on. With that Lawrence went to turn around and head back down the stairs. His wife's paintings still on the walls, making the house colourful. Though Klaus might have recognised there were some famous pieces among them, Lawrence had picked them up when the museums were raided and destroyed. Stolen or saved was the real question.

[hvbris]

Cassia was visibly thrilled that Charlie was listening to her fashion advice, blissfully unaware that her words had been particularly insulting. Instead, she offered him a bright smile. "I have some magazines at home, I could lend you a few after the speech," she suggested with the innocence of a child who had everything.

She could have argued that it didn't matter if his daughter got the dress dirty, but quickly reminded herself that the poor girl lived in the Districts! Surely even the streets were covered in mud, and Cassia doubted they had dry cleaners there. Yes, a simple dress would be better.

"Little girls love pink and sparkles," she assured him, taking inspiration from her own childhood, but also assuming anything with glitters would seem incredible to a District child. She didn't stop to think that Charlie was wealthier than most Panem inhabitants, being a victor.

"I think something with a bow or frills would be lovely too. Or perhaps puffed sleeves?" It couldn't be too fancy! Cassia had one of the most classical styles in the Capitol, and she sported all these things regularly. She particularly enjoyed having a bow in her hair.

Charlie had absolutely no idea at all how the colours and cut of his outfit could be "completely off", but he elected not to comment on it. Personally, he thought that he looked rather good. Hm. Well, he supposed that he should take the statement that he didn't dress "too badly" as a compliment, even if it did make him feel like some kind of performing monkey.

"Yeah, sure. If you've got some magazines spare, I'll have a look at them." Maybe he'd even see something he liked, though the possibility did seem unlikely. Fashion wasn't something that he was interested in.

"Tilly is young. Too young to really appreciate a pretty dress, and definitely too young to keep one clean." Especially now her mother had remarried. The new husband was a cattle farmer, and that meant mud. If Charlie bought her a nice dress, it'd be absolutely ruined in no time at all.

Still, it was true that she'd like one, and it wasn't like Charlie couldn't afford it.

"I'll get her something simple," Charlie decided. "Pink and sparkly, nothing too fancy. Then it won't matter if she gets it dirty, or if she only wears it once before she outgrows it. What do you think? Little girls love that kind of thing, right?"

[hvbris]

𝐆𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐁𝐘 & 𝐕𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐄𝐓 @multipleoccupancy

"It's very nice to meet you too, Mr. Gatsby," Violet replied very politely, walking closer so she could offer him her hand to shake. "Thank you for your hospitality." Even from here his house seemed huge, and the party raging outside was quite dazzling. She was relieved that the Horned One had decided to send her to a less busy area of the house, though. It would have been overwhelming to appear in the middle of the bustling celebrations.

Violet knew that her parents would never come looking for her, simply because they were in another dimension entirely! Soon enough, Mr. Gatsby would realise that her parents were nowhere to be found. What would he do, then? "Thank you," she said anyway. She could not exactly tell him the truth! As long as he believed her parents to be around, she could pretend as such.

"Of course! It's your house," she hurried to say, before glancing at the window. Fireworks! He didn't have to tell her twice, and she walked up to the window to look.

"Did you know that fireworks were invented in China?" she mused, clearly quite interested in the subject -as she was in all things one could make and build. "The first "firecrackers" were bamboo stalks that were thrown in a fire. They exploded with a bang because of the overheating of the hollow air pockets in the bamboo." Her rambling was at least proof that she felt comfortable around Mr. Gatsby -he had been nothing but polite so far, after all.

He smiled at her polite greeting, she obviously had manners which suggested an education or at least that she was from a middle or upper class family. Gatsby had done his best to learn the names of those he would need to know to succeed in his rouse in posing as old money and he prepared himself to hear her name. Hopeful he would be proficient enough in his studies of the families to know who she was and be able to help her. Even her slight hesitation felt like an age to him and Gatsby held his breath.

A double-barrelled name, she was certainly from wealth then but he didn't recognise either of those names and his face fell for a moment before he recovered it. "It is very nice to meet you Miss Baudelaire-Beneventi."

She'd stepped away and that was that. Gatsby cast just a little look to the window where his party was raging on and would for several more hours, booze, drugs, gambling and all manner of things still happening even as the sun came up. His men working in the crowd, Wolfsheim's men prowling like wolves to gain blackmail material and to steal money from the super rich at his tables. This was no place for a young girl.

"Don't worry," Gatsby then said with a smile, the kind of important smile that really showed he believed she didn't have reason to worry. "You can stay in here as long as you want. I am sure your parents will come looking for you as the night draws to a close." Eventually! "If you just wait right here, I will go and ask my staff to look for them," they were usually efficient but names could mean so little without an official guest list. "And if you will permit me, I will stay in the room too," for her own sake and protection, he did not want her sucked into the underbelly of New York. If nothing else it was an opportunity, her parents would in theory be in debut to him and if they held positions of power in the city, all the better.

"I quite fancy some peace for myself too," he smiled and gestured out of the window again as the announcement came for the firework display about to begin. "Please, make yourself comfortable and enjoy the show." He'd only need to lean out of the door and give his orders, barely a minute passed and Gatsby was back behind that couch. He didn't disturb her while the fireworks and accompanying music were going on, everyone liked that sort of show but he thought it was especially the case for kids.

[hvbris]

𝐌𝐘𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐀𝐑 @governmentofficial

Caesar was happy to feel Mycroft’s grip slightly tighten around his waist, though the motion was surprisingly bold for him. But then again, he was clearly inebriated, and thus emboldened by the alcohol. The proximity was welcome anyway, sending butterflies through his stomach. 

“Yes,” he agreed softly, resting his head against Mycroft’s shoulder. He supposed their conversation had opened a few doors, hadn’t it? It made him giddy, really!

If only this feeling could have lasted forever! But Mycroft’s question only puzzled Caesar. Why on earth ask that? He knew Caesar was popular, that he had dated before. Why talk about the past, when they were starting to uncover something so exciting about their potential future? 

Caesar didn’t want to hurt Mycroft’s feelings! But he also didn’t want to lie to him. “I have,” he replied evasively, “but it’s not important right now.” He turned to look at Mycroft, reluctantly shifting away. “When you think about it, who are you kissing? In your imagination.”

[hvbris]

𝐎𝐊𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐀 & 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐋 @omniishambles

Hannibal had never cared about having children, well aware that his particular lifestyle did not exactly allow him normal affections and normal families. But he supposed that if he had ever had a teenage daughter, she would behave somewhat like Oksana. Childish, but bloodthirsty. It seemed to mellow him out a little.

"This one," he replied, tapping his cheek with his index finger. "Though you could eat the other one, if you wanted."

As she babbled about him getting a hook, he felt his patience thinning ever so slightly. "I'm planning on finding a prosthetic," he assured her, before taking a sip of his wine, "but my circumstances make it a little bit hard to me to waltz in a doctor's office. I am a wanted man."

"A hook would not be very practical," he reminded her, "but if you'd like one, that can easily be arranged." It was a joke more than a threat, a predator talking to another predator.

[hvbris]

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐒 & 𝐓𝐈𝐆𝐑𝐈𝐒 @multipleoccupancy

Tigris' heart broke so loudly in her chest, she was sure the sound resonated outside of her ribcage. She put gentle hands on James' shoulders. "Of course, you can help them," she said, her voice as soft as her touch, "you can be their allies, and what you get from the sponsors you can share with them. You can keep other tributes safe."

Oh, how she wish she could do more. She felt so powerless, sending this kind boy to the slaughter. Tigris had hoped for better things. She had hoped to make a difference. But what was she really doing? Could she help him? Really help him?

She handed him a tissue from her purse. It was engraved with her mother's initials. "Stylists are not told anything," she admitted sadly, "but once I see your clothes for the arena, I'll be able to give your some information. If the fabric is thin, the weather will be warm. Specific fabrics could indicate water, or snow..." She shook her head. "It'll only be minutes before the Games start, though."

James believed that Tigris would keep trying for him on the outside. He wasn't sure he would manage much if all he did was hide, sponsors would want him out and fighting if he needed supplies. Stressed and afraid, the teenager rubbed his hands down his face, careful not to touch his hair as he didn't want to be back in the chair for styling again.

He drew in a deep breath from under his hands, trying so very hard to settle himself and wishing that he was anywhere but there. The arena only minutes away. "Am I allowed to help them?" He asked, there were several children who were tributes this year. James couldn't imagine harming them nor letting anyone else harm them but they would also slow him down and potentially cost him his life if he tried to defend them too deliberately not to mention the horror of what would happen if he was very successful at protecting them and left only himself and a younger tribute in the arena.

His hands fell from his face, his eyes soaked with tears. "Do you know anything about the arena? Anything I can use?"

[hvbris]

𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐒 & 𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐘 𝐆𝐑𝐀𝐘 @multipleoccupancy

Lucy Gray studied Coriolanus, lips pursed. "So you want to have your cake and eat it too," she noted coldly when he began explaining himself. Her chin was lifted, exposing her long neck, and making her look distant.

But her face softened as he kept talking, and she lowered her chin. A wave of brown, curly hair fell on her shoulder, brushing the skin. She moved her arm, closing the gap between his hand and hers. It was just a touch, but it was so much more than the scraps she had given him for the past weeks.

He didn't want to change her, he wanted to change the Capitol. It was quite the promise. "I reckon I would be harder to change than the Capitol," she hummed, a playful tease, like one would wave a white flag. She even dared a smile.

"How are you goin' to change the Capitol, Coryo?" Coryo, not Coriolanus. "There is not much you can do from here." Maybe she should know better than to underestimate the boy with the rose. He had cheated for her, perhaps he could change a country for her.

Covey didn’t belong to one place, not to one District. He remembered that about her but she had been stuck in Twelve just like him. However, he was sure where he belonged and it wasn’t in the mud or under the boot of anyone else. His heart still sank, she couldn’t live in the Capitol as it was, he had to rebuild his reputation, the Snow name, everything again and it would be a hard fight without help. His crossroads moment was not all that far ahead of him where he had to work out who’s help he would accept.

She wanted to know his idea, what it is he thought he could do and what it is he would do for her. Coriolanus wanted both Lucy Grey and to live in the Capitol where he could regain power but the two clashed, an incompatible pairing. He placed a hand softly on the arm of her chair, not touching her but so close to hers that it was near invitation or pleading that she might close the gap herself while he looked her in the eye.

“I need to be in the Capitol, I need to climb. It is something I feel as if I will never stop until I get there, an insatiable hunger. I also can’t imagine a life where you are not by my side.” Climbing with him, right along side him, the Covey girl and the Snow heir. It sounded like a pre-war storybook. “I can’t put you both in the same place, you can’t go to the Capitol and I can’t and won’t change you to go there.”

His voiced thoughts were him coming to his own conclusion, a verbal pathway to a significant turning point in Panem’s future. “So I’ll have to change the Capitol.”

[hvbris]

𝐇𝐀𝐘𝐌𝐈𝐓𝐂𝐇 & 𝐄𝐅𝐅𝐈𝐄 @omniishambles

"Because I want them to win?" she quipped, irritated, "because I don't want you to give up before you've even started?" Her eyes followed the glass he slammed on the trolley, her perfectly powdered face troubled by a deep frown.

"I lose them too, Haymitch. They're my tributes too."

Years of being an escort for District 12. Years stuck with doomed tributes who never stood a chance, and a drunk for only companion. It was her failure as much as it was Haymitch's. She knew that, and her "friends" in the Capitol never missed an occasion to remind her either.

"You won!" She finally exclaimed with an exasperated voice, raising her hands in the air, "Why is it so hard for you to think they could win too?"

[hvbris]

𝐊𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍 & 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐑𝐀 @multipleoccupancy

Cassandra had not expected the praise -not after how their first meeting had gone. But she accepted it with a polite smile. "Thank you." And then, a little awkwardly, she added: "So are you." But oh, she was cringing at herself, and quickly hid her embarrassment behind her cup of coffee.

Would he rely on her, then? And would she rely on him? At the end of the day, they didn't know each other very well. But what mattered was the case, and she'd always have a fellow agent's back. Always. Still, the breakfast was awkward, and she was impatient to be on the crime scene. Work would make things simpler.

"You're right, it's on a case-by-case basis," she hummed, putting her cup down. "These sorts of things can feel like a gamble." And if she had been able to take cover, she probably would have. But with the barrel pointed at her forehead, it was tricky. "I guess our line of work feels like that all the time. But it's why trusting your teammates is so important." Though she had a feeling her was easing her into a change of scenery. Why else would he talk about 'anyone' who would end up working with her? She supposed The Program had never told them they were an official team. Still, she felt a little pang of pain in her chest. Working with Edgar made it easier to stand the reality of this world.

Killian trusted that Cassandra and the others would have learned from the experience but he supposed the damage had been done. Delta Green was done with cells and the Scooby Gang would indeed be disbanded. Something he thought it best not to voice to Cassandra. He wasn't sure it would be better that way or not, he certainly felt better and more protected and certainly efficient when he had been working with Samantha. She knew of his weaknesses and his strengths and he was the same for her, they were a team. Which made it harder now that they were no longer working together.

"That's a good way to look at it," he encouraged instead, she'd figure it out on her own soon enough as she went to more missions, the group was gone. "We're human and that's what's most important in the end, so long as we have each other's backs then whatever we face will eventually fall." Or rather be held off for another few years or centuries. Most of the time.

"You're a good agent in any case," he was sure to say, "I would think anyone who winds up working with you can rely on you." He'd struggle of course if he was triggered but she didn't need to know that, right? "Understanding people is an important part of the job, you seem to be more understanding than most. Sometimes you can talk a person down and sometimes I hope you will know to take cover."

[hvbris]

𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐁𝐀𝐋 & 𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐀𝐑 @omniishambles

"Ha! I love that!" exclaimed Caesar, laughing cheerfully. The crowd followed his lead; like rats being charmed by the Pan Piper. "She's a young woman full of surprises. I can tell the Games will be thrilling this year!"

"You've prepared her very well, I'm sure," he agreed, tilting his head in a perfectly crafted display of affection, "It's always interesting, to see the children of victors in the arena."

"For your youngest viewers out here, let me tell you that Hannibal was a sight to behold during his own Games. And from what we've seen so far, Fish is just like her father!"

[hvbris]

𝐌𝐘𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐅𝐓 & 𝐂𝐀𝐄𝐒𝐀𝐑 @governmentofficial​

The compliment caught Caesar off guard, though it was a very welcome surprise. Emboldened by it, her shifted just enough so he could steal a kiss from Mycroft. It was short but sweet and dragged a playful little smile out of him.

"Then it's settled," he concluded, glancing one last time at the leopard monstrosity that his father had bought him, "I'll wear the red suit instead, and we can match." Caesar really loved matching his outfits with Myroft's, and he knew that Mycroft did too.

He let out a little chuckle at the suggestion. "It's a good idea. Maybe I'll wear this suit next Friday, then. My father has invited us for dinner. And after that, I can stuff it in the deepest corner of my closet, and never look at it again!"