Shay Hylan (D6) (sidewinders) wrote in colosseum, @ 2014-03-02 15:01:00 |
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"Back in my day," the older man grumbled over his eggs benedict, "you guys would've thrown the mace at the kid. Drawn some more blood, so the tiger gets a really good sniff." He inhaled deeply and wetly as an example. The dining area of the retirement home was just as posh and comfortable as the rest of it. The chairs were the right blend of comfort and support. Over most mornings, the room would also host weekly bingo. Over this brunch, a giant screen projected reruns and analysis of the previous days' play. And at this brunch, the winners of the 56th Hunger Games Death Bingo celebrated their win by sitting with the visiting Victors. Shay kept her tablet near her, tucked into a crack of the massaging armchair she had managed to get moved from the rec room. The food was less rich than some of the other Capitol fare, but still prepared at the same high standard. Some of those dining had rows of pills to take with their meal. Although she didn't get any pills herself, she was intrigued by what she was hearing about the purple gummy bear, and she was eating her eggs and non-committally nodding to what the man was saying. "Your boy got me the bingo," another lady was telling Beetee, showing him and Laurel the tablet with her bingo card. "Ah, yes, it seems he did. The odds were in your favor." Beetee adjusted his glasses as he squinted at a bingo row showing the faces of a line of four tributes that had died at the Cornucopia, with Ace's eager smile a flourish in the corner. Unlike Shay, he hadn't brought his own tablet inside with him, without any need to mentor, but a program on his watch sat poised and ready to record, should the conversation ever turn to topics of interest (he doubted it would, but preparation wouldn't hurt). "I'm glad the boy is gone," the woman's friend piped up, pointing a finger at Beetee. Her skin stretched taut over her knuckles, but the thinness of her bones belied her true age. "You just won as a little pipsqueak with traps only a few years ago, kid. We need to see something different." Beetee resisted the urge to correct the woman and remind her that he'd won 23 years ago. To her, perhaps, 23 years were 'only a few.' Laurel was also without her tablet, as she had been since Amelia’s loss--there didn’t seem much point anymore. Still, she tapped her index finger against the bingo card a few times. “You’ve still got a chance for something different, see? There are still a handful of different tributes in the running, ones who might bring some new variety.” The woman clucked her tongue and rolled her eyes. “We need more victors like in the old days. More brutal, less tricky and clever. That boy from District Two’s got something going for him, but the others…” “I still say it’s a damn shame that boy from Seven never got an axe,” the man interrupted, poking Laurel’s shoulder much more sharply than she was certain he intended. “It’s been too long since we’ve seen how nasty someone can be when they’ve got an axe. I wanted to see axes. Tearing tributes open, that sort of thing.” Laurel resisted the urge to rub her shoulder where she’d been poked and nodded politely, her smile growing ever-so-slightly tighter. “The games aren’t over yet, after all,” she offered. "Production value's gone down," another muttered, using his fork to gesture at the screen showing the interview recaps. "We heard this music already! Pass me my high blood pressure pills." "Which are those?" Shay asked, with some interest. She even leaned forward, briefly leaving the warmth and comfort of the massage chair. At the man's gesturing, she moved some green ones closer to him. "What do they do, exactly?" The man's description was interrupted by the first one pointing at the screen. "Back in my day, the wind would've knocked down every single building and structure by now. Pfft!" Saliva and food sprayed towards the screen. "All this food. They're probably getting fed more in the arena than they do at home! That's not on." He shook his head. "No one wants to see them starve," Beetee commented neutrally. Behind his glasses, his face remained unchanged, save for perhaps a glint behind his eyes. He knew why District 7 couldn't send Cypress an axe, and he knew the political reasons that kept food out of the mouths of hungry civilians in the districts. Inefficient and unsustainable power plays, the same sort of machinations had even brought the three of them to this very spot. A small inconvenience, in the long run, but entirely unnecessary. "This was nothing!" the man continued. "We'd walk through this and worse!" He squinted at the victors. He looked old enough to have been through the Dark Days, though he didn't give any indication that he was talking about that. "How about we go back to the other room?" He gestured to a worker to pick up their food. "I don't want to miss a death because I'm eating." |