lion's roar

"Ah, okay, I'm glad I'm getting a whole unique experience then," he chuckled. "No, not defeated," Hart assured the woman, though he wasn't sure who she was or why she cared. "I've got too much self-preservation for that," he answered honestly. "I'm just a realist." He always knew how to keep moving, how to survive, but he'd never deluded himself into optimism either. This time around, though, survival and optimism were more closely linked than they'd ever been before, and Hart still wasn't sure what to make of that. "And the arena's probably gonna be a real bitch, huh?"

"Yes, you must have paid for the premium deluxe package," she joked. She believed him when he said that he wasn't defeated, just a realist. It was most likely that he would die. Even if the odds were even, which they were not, he had a 1 in 24 chance of surviving. Calculate in all of the external factors and his chances were much lower. "Well, yeah, 'a bitch' is probably one way you could describe it," Marina replied. "I have no idea what it'll be, of course, but I doubt it'll be fun. You did pay for premium deluxe, after all."

"Mm, yeah, obviously more concrete," Nano rolled his eyes, taking a greedy gulp from the steaming cup. It burned the roof of his mouth, but if that was the only injury he walked away from this cycle with, he would be grateful. He glanced at the woman, dressed too nicely, too comfortable in the attire to be anything like him, and wrote her off. But he was curious, so he continued to speculate. "You see that shiny piece reflecting the light? Down there on the right?"

Marina peered down towards where he was indicating. It looked like a shard of glass to her, but it was a bit far down, so there was no way to be certain. "Ah, that looks exactly like a dragon's egg," she said sarcastically. She didn't know too much about Nano other than what she'd seen in the Games. She hadn't been terribly impressed and was not worried now about making a good impression in return.

Nano stood at the edge of the crater outside the Tower, staring down at its crumbled depths -- the churned stew of stone and blood and gravel and ash. Ten people had died here days before. More just yesterday. Blood for blood. It was spilling out of every exit of this building; soon the streets would flood. His head cocked, lolling sideways beneath the morning sun, contemplating the chain of events that had led him here.

Marina raised an eyebrow. She was unimpressed with the whole display. She understood what the rebels were trying to do with getting attention and all that -- but it seemed like weakness to her. Either they had the manpower to kill everyone and destroy everything, or they didn't. If they didn't, there was no point in bothering. Marina would prefer a swift death, were the revolution to come to fruition.

"This place is batshit crazy," Hart whistled in an almost light-hearted resignation of everything that had happened in the last few days-- being reaped, Ripley's reaping, the executions, the explosion. "I'm starting to think they're trying to kill us before we even see an arena." His gaze was focused out the window, staring at the crews still clearing the mess from the front of the building, trying their best to make it like it was never there at all. "Also starting to think that maybe an explosion would be the better way to go." There was no way he was making it out anyway. At least that had some urgency to it, unlike the preening and prodding of the Games.

"It isn't always like this," Marina said, approaching with a cup of coffee between both hands, warming them as she'd just arrived at the Tower from her condo. "Normally it's all a bit more routine." She tutted at him, disapproving. "Now you shouldn't talk like that, it'll make people think you're defeated." A test: was he? If so, no need to support him.

Augie shook her head. "I'm not hungry," she said, although the food she'd clearly just finished would seem to claim otherwise. "Or, I'm a bit full, I guess," she clarified. "I'll try a piece tomorrow, though." Would they let her have cake tomorrow? Augie had no idea, and didn't want to look weird by pulling a scribbled-on napkin out of her pocket in the middle of a conversation to find out.

"I understand. You're feeling nervous? Excited? Apprehensive?" It wasn't just her being kind and having a conversation about the tribute's feelings -- though she always liked to think that was what she was doing. Really, though, she was digging for information so she could make the best judgment possible on this one. Whether she was worth sponsoring.

"You're not wrong," he said. "The Bricks are friends of my family. And it's no secret I'm swayed by siblings in the Arena. The Durums were one day away from Sponsorship from me in 132." It was a truth, too. Had they not fallen so closely together, Monty had decided he would be helping the one of them make it home. Unfortunately the Games had other plans.

"Unfortunately, the Durums blew it in a way I'm sure the Bricks won't," Marina said, trying to be reassuring. "They're both trained. Perhaps there's some strategy there. I'm sure your brother will be able to tell you more about it." She just couldn't quite see the logic in all of it, but it wasn't her story to unravel.

"My only one," Cress assured her, something sympathetic playing in her gaze. The first few tasks were nerve-wracking. A conscience at war, or the fear of being caught, or the worry that you'd stepped in something stickier than anticipated. That you'd been trapped by something worse than the law. But, like skin, it would callous, becoming easier and affecting less the more she deigned to do. "Marina," she placed a careful hand on the woman's elbow. "I won't ask for more. Let it be done."

She breathed out, allowing herself to believe that it was done, a simple, one-off quid pro quo in the way that very few things were truly simple in this city. The world was changing, though, with the violence of the rebels casting uncertainties on everyone. It could really be true, that it was done.

Monty bit into his breakfast, feeling a bit like a petulant child who was just told his birthday party wasn't going to have a bouncy castle. "Probably will shake them up. Half - or more! - of them won't be at the top of their game."

"I know... though I suppose you probably won't have too much trouble choosing who to support, right?" She wondered if Monty would go with district loyalty, support his brother's tributes -- the Bricks were obvious early favorites, both of them Academy trained, a Victor already in their family line. Shame they'd bungled it by volunteering in the same year. What were they, amateurs?

Cress had lingered in her spot to watch them clean the blood. The bodies had been taken, either for disposal or display, but their stain lingered, seeping into the stone. It would be difficult to wash away. The material was porous, having already absorbed so much. They could scrub as much as they liked, but it would require a special chemical solution to fully remove the evidence. Though perhaps that was the point. Perhaps they wanted it to remain: the proof of what had been done.

"Of course," Marina said, choosing to believe Cress if only because it had already been done. She needed to shake this anxiety — she wouldn't be caught for anything, she had covered all of her tracks well. She would get away with it, Neptune's death more on her mind than whatever consequences Pharmakos might face. "Though most of my friends know I like to limit the favors I do." She winked at her, playing at feeling more normal than she really did at the moment.

Augie was eating a piece of cake. It was one of the most decadent things she'd ever tasted. If they were trying to fatten the tributes up for the slaughter, it was working. It was something called red velvet, which didn't strike Augie as odd until someone sat across from her and mentioned the execution. The bodies flashed through Augie's mind again, and she put her forkful of blood red cake back down onto her plate. She wasn't hungry anymore. Augie nodded at the figure in front of her. "Go for it," she said, and then pushed her plate a few inches in front of her in offering. "Cake?" She wasn't really sure what else to do here.

She recognized the girl as a tribute, but she was sure that the girl didn't recognize her as a sponsor. If she could keep it that way, that would be best. A genuine conversation was the best way to understand what was going on in a tribute's mind; when they tried to sell themselves, it was almost too cringey to watch. "Ah, no, I'm not going to take your cake," she said. "You should eat it." The unsaid was you'll need it. "If you're not a fan of red velvet, they have a good vanilla. And carrot, though I've never understood the point of that."

Monty gestured to the empty seat, welcoming Marina to sit. "Seat's all yours, Ms. Bellheart." He stabbed a strawberry, indicating his slight annoyance with the hullaballoo outside.

"I'll agree with that," Marina said, lifting her coffee cup to her lips. "To both parts -- it's rude and it's well-deserved. I'd imagine it's got the tributes extra shaken, should be interesting to see how they cope." She said it with a level of detachment, as she truly was interested. Would this affect their performance in training? Would they go harder because they were more scared? Of course the threat facing them was the same as it had always been, but the mood had shifted.

"Oh, well," he said, tongue pressing to the inside of his cheek as he thought back to his stays in a resort in Four. "I've only ever been on family vacations there." Family vacations - him and Victor. Years and years ago. "The Aquaticus Resort is quite good if I remember correctly. Directly at the beach with a beautiful view. Of course, there's bound to be children around, so perhaps it wouldn't be entirely your cup of tea if you want to go there to relax," he chuckled.

She felt guilty right away, as of course that would touch on a nerve. Vacations usually involved family, and family... meant Victor. She didn't apologize though, not wanting to acknowledge that she'd fucked up. "Ah, well, maybe they have a no children area," she said, "or a quiet zone at the very least." She looked at him with some uncharacteristic caring, even concern. "Have you taken time for yourself?" The unsaid was since the Games.

"Oh, no. Certainly not," Cress placed her hand over Marina's, a comforting touch. An assurance, that this was a simple transaction, a finite exchange. One life for another, and all that was needed was for the right piece to be put in place. And then? Was this not prime foundation for a secure alliance -- proven mettle, with that slight edge of mutually-assured destruction? Were those not the tenants of trust? "Though if you do ever find yourself in need again, I would hope to be someone you could call on. A true friend."

"Ah, well, further friendship all hangs in the balance of how kind your card is," Marina joked, though she was genuinely relieved that this seemed to be a one-off transaction. She had picked out some items at the store to purchase; it was time to take out her credit card. It was nothing more or less than that. But it really did depend on what the request was, whether the danger would be equivalent. She felt as though Cress had something on her now, and she hoped this would offer her something to hold in return. Useful information. "I plan to not be in need again," she said, her tone confident. "I find I don't like the feeling of it."

"Bygones," he nodded, nodding politely while unable to conceal entirely how relieved he felt. Lex did not need enemies. Not now. Not someone like Marina Bellheart. "What do you intend to do now, if you do not mind me asking?"

"Oh, honestly, I have no idea," she admitted. She did have plans -- taking a more active role in Neptune's company for one, diving more deeply into sponsoring as her own enterprise rather than as something that was viewed by her husband as a hobby. And then there was the spending of gross, massive quantities of money that would have to be done. "I think after all is settled here, I'll go to Four for a vacation. I need to get away from the city and clear my head. Do you have any recommendations?"

"Yes, proceedings like this are so tedious," she gestured to the room, referring to it none. "Such labor, sorting everything out, though it understandably must be done." Just this debt to settle, and then no further expectation beyond silence, no lingering fear of when one would collect. It could be a friendship, if that's what was wanted. But business always a way of bleeding into things, once this work was something you knew. "But soon, all will settle, and you'll see -- life carries us as it carries on."

Marina wanted to believe that the double meaning of Cress's words was meant to ensure her that this envelope would be the only such one, and of course, once she did it, they would be even. If she did it. She still didn't know what she was being asked to do, whether it would be worth risking anything for. "I can't wait for that settling period," she replied. "By the next Games I'm sure all will be well. No need to exchange any more cards."