ich will einen ozean;

"Are they?" Cress inquired, intrigued. After all, Miller was not the one watching his loved ones suffer and die this time. Could they really be so affected that it would permeate all things? She busied herself with the tea leaves, the blend Hestia had crafted. "Oh, do say more. You've come to offer yourself, yes? Your...companionship and conversation? Well, this is what I'd like to talk about." Miller would hardly speak to her, so perhaps this was the workaround. It seemed to have worked with Mason. Why not with Medea as well?

"Not exactly the same," Medea backtracked a little with a sigh. She was quiet for a few moments. She had offered Cress all those things she'd pointed out. It was uncomfortable, but what was the harm in disclosing this little bit of her own struggles? They didn't compare to watching a sibling die, but perhaps they were an adequate distraction for Cress. "When he told me about-" Medea vaguely gestured at the space between them, she hoped Cress would understand. "I said that we can't be together. In public. Because being accused of cheating doesn't look particularly good on any of us. And I guess he took that as we can't be together at all." Medea let out a faint, breathy chuckle. "I thought we'd at least still talk but.. yeah, no chance. He looks almost afraid to meet me in public. Like that'll tarnish everything about.. this."

"I get it." it had been a mess through the whole tower, a ripple affect they were all feeling. of course it would interrupt with a get every victor to sign effort. Although, looking down, slate's signature was right beside where she'd laid hers. funny, she didn't see any other tributes on here. or at least, not this card.

"Uh," Medea muttered, furrowing her brows. She hadn't counted, in fact. Perhaps she should have made a list, kept better track of it. Now she had four cards littered with signatures. Counting afterwards would be a pain. "I think... about forty? Roughly?" Medea might have grown up with a legacy carried by the Games, but she hadn't spent years upon years in this Tower around all these people. "Do you think I could bring all the cards down here? Maybe you could, like, help me check who's missing, still." The sentence ended more on a question mark as she looked at Link, hopeful.

"let me guess, district one?" Link loved Cress and her fellow careers as much as anyone in the tower, but they were known for their flash and flair, weren't they? "or did Cain take up a card all by himself?" she was teasing now, not meaning anything by it. Cain was a sweet guy too. "Have you gotten Nano yet? I can have him sign it, we're close."

Medea snorted. "How did you know?" It wasn't just District One, but that went without saying nonetheless. Most of those who had signed big and extravagant, were older victors. Twinkling stars, but slightly faded ones in comparison to the newcomers. "I actually haven't hit up Cain yet, either," she admitted with a sigh. "I was on such a good track, and then.." Medea cut herself off. Then, the whole baby mess had kicked off. "Well, Slate went into the Arena." That she could settle with. It wasn't even a lie. "Not Nano either." Medea's eyes widened ever so slightly. "Really? You would do that? I don't want to, you know, inconvenience you, or anything."

"Do you have a preference?" Cress inquired, smoothing her blouse, gesturing to the hallway, toward the kitchen. "On conversation or silence, I mean. I'm firmly in need of some tea." A small smile, forced, as she plucked the jar that Hestia had blended for her. And because Cress was uninterested in discussing herself -- terribly, awful creature she was -- she turned the conversation around. "How are things between you and Miller? He mentioned that you two had spoken." She glanced over her shoulder, back at where Medea was. "I presume that's why you've come?"

Medea followed Cress to the kitchen. "Well..." she muttered, leaning her hip against the center piece of the sleek kitchen. "I did come here to offer you companionship. Conversation, if that's what you would like. Silence, if that's what you prefer. Losing someone is more than just difficult. People cope differently." Medea pushed herself away from the countertop, stepped towards the electric kettle to heat up the water.

Cress blinked, starting emptily at Medea. It was an unusual visit. A strange one. "Thank you," the polite response. The proper one. Condolences given at the end of a receiving line at a funeral service, handkerchief clutched tight in a manicured palm. Cress felt the veneer rippling, an easy mask to slip beneath. It would protect her from the pain. It would protect her from all things. "Would you like something to drink?" She placed the pillow down onto the bed, straightening. "A glass of tea, perhaps, or a nightcap?

It was clear to her, that Cress was shutting herself behind a facade. Polite and proper, the very same way she'd met the woman. Just... more dull. It wasn't real, but Cress was doing her very best to make it so. "Only if you do, too," she finally, said, faintly nodding. "I'll help prepare it. We can... drink in silence, or talk. It's your call, ultimately."

Failing to maintain a straight face, his lips quirked into a smile at her dry remark. That did not last long, though, as his expression morphed again into one of surprise when she removed the skirt of her dress, quickly followed by admiration, as always. He recovered eventually, gaze slowly travelling up from her legs to her eyes again. "Come on, princess. You know better than to underestimate me." Medea had merely pointed out a fact, which he was aware of even in his state, but he wasn't deterred. Besides, what else was he supposed to do? Back out? Blow off the one chance he had today to be near her?

"You've got quite the collection going. It's impressive." she loved when people put effort into her gifts. Finnick would certainly appreciate such a time-taken gift. or at least, he should.

"Ah, this is only one of the cards," Medea said, rather proud of herself. "This is the... fourth, I think? Not necessarily because there are so many signatures, but also because some of these people sign their names awfully large," she giggled.

"Medea Odair." Link greeted, a friendly tone in it. "oh." the card being presented to her, link smiled, realizing what this was. it was the card from before. "You don't have a pen on you, do you?" she asked, reaching around into the backpack she'd gotten with monty last games. "I think... ah, yes, here." pulling one out, she took the card and gingerly signed her name, well-sized and clear. "good to see you again."

"Oh," Medea quickly patted her pockets. She was sure she'd brought one. "I do, actually, I- Oh." Link had been quicker, pulling out a pen from her backpack. The name was signed, signature fitting beautifully in the midst of all the others. A well rounded picture. The smile Medea sent Link was pleased. "Thank you, dad will be really happy about this, no doubt." Gingerly, she placed the card back into the small bag at her side. "Good to see you too," her smile widened into a toothy grin. "How was the ball for you?"

All the while still fighting the clasp of the necklace, he waited for Medea to deliver the punchline, the butt of the joke, but it never came. Instead of unclasping properly, the chain ended up breaking between his fingers. He let the beads of the necklace clutter to the floor. "Well, I was planning to do this naked, so." He wasn't, not really, he was still trying to call her bluff, but he had got rid of his top and now his necklace, she might very well believe him. Maybe.

A clatter, a thud. And suddenly, Miller was in front of her entirely shirtless. For a split second, her eyes widened. He was drunk, that much was clear. It felt wrong, to look at him like that. Vulnerable, even if he hadn't intended to be. Medea had seen this before, up close and personal, had been able to reach out and skim her hand over warm skin, toned muscles. It ached, that she wasn't allowed to be close to him like that any longer.

"--yes, Cyrene and I will escort her home," Cress responded, numbly, ear pressed to the phone. "Of course. No, mother, we don't--" She sighed, eyes closing as she worked a rhythmic rub between them. "You don't need to do that. Cyrene and I can--" Fleur's voice warbled on the other end, pitching uncharacteristically high. But of course it would. Her youngest daughter had just died. And yet, for the shock of that, the intense loss that was taking hold, there was no mention of it, really. They were discussing details, making arrangements, but not once had Fleur acknowledged the reasoning. Only the menu for the reception, the flowers she'd like put out... Cress agreed to speak, but as soon as she accepted, she wondered what there was to say? What did Cress know?

Medea had thought she might find Cress here. After a cannon in the afternoon, a very specific cannon, Medea had decided to set aside her apprehensions. Her presence might not have been the most sought after in this moment, but she had to say something. Even if she would be turned away, Medea wanted Cress to know that she was cared for. Looked after.

Fool's Gold - she was aware of the concept. Vaguely, but still. One shot glass with alcohol, one with ether, one with something harmless. Perhaps this did serve as the something stronger she'd just asked for. "You know what, yeah. Let's play Fool's Gold."

"Perfect," a wide grin split her lips. "Bring your horror movie selection. If you want to. We don't need anyone to protect us, we'll do fine just by ourselves." There had, after all, once been a third to this little plan of theirs. That seemed to be a thing of the past now, though. At least for the foreseeable future.

Her phone had been turned off and stashed in her bag when she saw the announcement, the flood of notifications wasn't necessary or helpful, and it being on wouldn't change anything. She was content in sipping at her drink and smiling, playing the part still, but her jaw clenched as Medea ordered her own drink. She turned to smile at her at the mention of the dock parties, though the smile didn't quite reach her eyes, "Oh, the dock parties are unrivaled, I don't think the Capitolites would have any idea what to do there. They'd end up in the water for sure." She nodded at the question, taking another sip of her drink, "I've directed any interested sponsors towards mentors with tributes that are still," she took a deep breath to steady herself, "still in the running. How is your evening going? Enjoying it?"

Mason quickly looked to see who had bumped into him and looped arms with him. Though he instantly smiled as he saw that it was Medea. "This is nothing like it? I mean, the music is great. I really need to go to a dock party." He said with a small laugh before nodding his head. "I'd love to dance! But just a warning, I'm not too great at it."