Who: Scott and Steve What: A delivery Where: Steve's hotel room When: After visiting with Bucky, before visiting with Clint
God, he was rusty. In his prime, something as trifling as a key card lock would have been easy to circumvent, but it had been years since he'd had to use his trusty bypass system - a durable key card slipped in between the door and the frame to pop the latch - and applying the proper amount of force was more difficult to achieve than he remembered. An older woman had approached on his third try, providing him with a convenient excuse for skulking around the side door of the hotel when she assumed his card wasn't working, and let him inside without another thought.
Scott, however, did pause just inside the doorway, tucking his makeshift lockpick into his pocket and brushing his fingers over the thumb drive sharing space there. The door hadn't shut yet. There was still time to turn around, head back to his apartment, and re-bury his head. Tempting. Easier. Definitely safer, because there was no risk involved in maintaining the status quo. Cassie would stay in the Capitol, relatively safe from harm and learning how to create new and exciting ways to terrorize doomed tributes. Scott would continue to see her six times a year - less if he were to rub Stane the wrong way - and Maggie would probably never see her again.
He let the lock click back into place. Scott had been wary of siding with Steve's inflammatory ideas, uncertain of what would happen to Cassie if Stane discovered that he had a mind to incite rebellion, but if things kept on like they were, he was losing her anyway. At least upsetting the status quo offered a chance at getting his kid back. Because there was a chance; Scott wouldn't be here if he didn't think so. The Districts were riled up - there had even been murmurings in Twelve, and that hadn't happened since his reaping - and if Steve moved quickly, got word out to the right people, it might fan the flames just enough to get a decent fire going.
With a small breath to spur himself into action, Scott pushed his way into the stairwell a few paces down the hall and climbed several flights to Steve's floor. He knocked and waited, making sure to casually angle his body away from the camera a few feet away on the ceiling.