moxie!

"Yes, it's good and also it tastes like nothing," Slate said, taking a bit between his own fingers and holding it up in a mock cheers before taking a bite. "It's like... it's just fried sugar, I think, I don't know. I don't really know how frying works and at this point I'm afraid to ask." He was glad to see Moxie; glad for a focus on something, someone good, in the midst of the chaos. His tributes were alive and he was being haunted by the idea that he should do something, but he was frozen, unsure what that something could be.

She nodded sagely at his words, still considering the doughy creation pinned between her fingertips. Moxie gave a little raise of her bite once she saw Slate make the gesture and brought it to her lips. It was – strange and certainly she'd never eaten anything like this before in her life. "It's – yeah," Moxie said thoughtfully through the bite, covering her mouth with her hand, "Nothing? But it's – not quite a pastry? This is weird. Not bad just, very, very strange – this isn't a district thing?"

"Yes, it's good and also it tastes like nothing," Slate said, taking a bit between his own fingers and holding it up in a mock cheers before taking a bite. "It's like... it's just fried sugar, I think, I don't know. I don't really know how frying works and at this point I'm afraid to ask." He was glad to see Moxie; glad for a focus on something, someone good, in the midst of the chaos. His tributes were alive and he was being haunted by the idea that he should do something, but he was frozen, unsure what that something could be.

"Nothing?" Moxie parroted, uncertain how nothing could taste, though she supposed a lot of things in the Capitol were that way – just filler – faces, food, relationships. She plopped a piece of it in her mouth and made a curious hum, uncertain how to feel about it. "It's just...fried and the texture is," Moxie's brow furrowed and then she shook her head and gave a click of her tongue, "This is strange."

"Of course...of course. Orpheus Guant, gonna have to remember that, so that I can naturally steal him away to District One. Because you do look absolutely stunning, and you know if you trust him....how could I not?" Sheen had a grin plastered across his face, cheek to cheek. It was a rare sight for him, but so far anyone who'd notice the difference hadn't mentioned it to him. Waving a hand at her compliments.

"I'm sure we could share," Moxie joked, a wide smile peeling across her teeth. Her cheeks were rosy from one too many drinks and she gave a small laugh while ducking her had for a moment. "Orpheus sometimes switches with one of the other stylists so I'm sure if you wanted to commission a piece from him I'm sure he'd be willing to take you on," She hummed out as she studied his outfit.

"Well... do you like licorice?" It was the closest tasting thing she could place, though she was sure the more "refined" Capitol palettes would list off a series of undertones, overtones, and aftertastes. "It's something like that."

"Oh licorice," Moxie said, her excitement immediately dissipating. Licorice was foul – honestly an affront to Panem and everything it stood for – which now that she thought about it and really it actually did fit what Panem stood for and honestly resolidified Moxie's understanding of how evil the Capitol was. "That's less than good, maybe we should go find better drinks?" Moxie suggested with a furrow of her brow, trying to find somewhere to set her glass.

Slate was sober -- he didn't count nicotine as a drug, surely not after everything he'd been doing -- and was, therefore, feeling sick and annoyed with everything around him. Ash and Finch were both alive, which meant that he had no excuse to not be here, to not be theoretically schmoozing with sponsors, though he was not doing that. He was instead standing by one of the heated lamps in the tent, eating something he was told was called funnel cake, and generally looking grumpy and off-putting. When someone approached, he said, "You want some of this artisan-hand-crafted-low-protein-low-fiber-high-sugar shit? That's what the Capitolite who gave it to me said. It's good though."

"I even speak Capitolite, but I'm not sure what that means," Moxie admitted after blinking a handful of times, making a vain attempt to process the words that came out of Slate's mouth. "It looks good, though," She conceded, looking at the pastry – she was more familiar with standard baked goods like the ones she made when in a bit of an anxious state. Moxie gave a contemplative hum, clearly, this was something from before the Dark Days. "Did you try it yet?" She asked, already stealing a piece off the plate and holding it between her fingers as if it may attack.

Sheen had a tribute left in the games, he should have been going to the ball on full alert. He should have prepared to work with sponsors to secure more support for Jade. Perhaps, though, the ether would help him relax, it would boost his confidence and make it easier for him to socialize with Sponsors, thereby getting her more money. Or Sheen was just being selfish, and he just wanted to run away from his feelings of feeling like an absolute failure. Regardless of his intentions, and what was going to happen, here he was at the Mentor Ball, high on the ether he'd bought from Mahlon.

"Oh my goodness," Moxie exclaimed, hiding behind a giggle at the compliments that seemed to pour straight out of Sheen's mouth. She pulled her hand away from her mouth, making the vainest attempts to regain her decorum but ultimately fumbled when she burst into a fit of giggles. She'd had a drink...or perhaps five. It was the first night in a very long time she'd been able to secure a sitter for her daughter for the entire night so she thought she'd indulge in letting loose.

Hestia nearly gagged on her drink, holding it out at an arm's length. She didn't usually like the cocktails at these things, of course-- too sweet, too artificial-- but she was feeling more adventurous than usual. Maybe partly because she knew being in a good mood tended to curry better favor among sponsors, and partly because both Finch and Ash were alive. Not just alive, doing decently, in fact. They were handling the challenges thrown to them about as well as she could hope any tribute from Twelve might, and neither seemed to have completely given up.

Moxie, if anything was a massive fan of things that people would consider far too much but that sort of defined Moxie herself, anyway. She was always too big, too much for plenty of people to palate so she gravitated toward things that matched. "Oh, gladly," Moxie said, taking what was clearly offensive to the other woman away. She brought the glass up to her nose, sniffed to see if was seemingly any kind of poison, and asked, "Is it really that bad?"

"If you want," she replied agreeably, reaching over to squeeze Moxie's hand reassuringly. "Does anything sound good? Or comforting?" Though she wasn't an exceptional chef, she was willing to do just about anything to help someone feel a little better. Especially a good friend like Moxie.

Moxie's nose scrunched up as she contemplated what she could even palate while the Games were on. It always had her feel a little sick to her stomach. "Whatever you're feeling," She said throwing her hands up in a shrug, "Something from Twelve, if you're feeling like food from home?"

El, resting at the back of the viewing room with her feet up on the armrest across from her, looked to the escort with some surprise. Weak stomachs were rare enough in her experience. In the districts, the harshness was a fact of life, here it seemed to be a spectator sport. "And here, I've heard rumors about people paying for the 4D experience," she said, crossing her arms. Rooms she assumed, that got you just close enough to taste and smell the arena. "You can turn your back if you like. I'll let you know if either of your two survive."

"I might just – I think I'll," Moxie began to say and instead just completely turned herself around, resisting the urge to cover her face as if that would somehow shield her from the worst of it even further. "Is it horrible?" She finally summoned the courage to speak, to force the words from out between her tightly clenched teeth.

Mason couldn't agree with anything more. He hated watching every minute of the games, but there was just something about the Bloodbath that made him feel sick every time. It was nice to hear someone else felt the same way. "I hate watching it, too. But then I get so nervous and anxious how my tributes are doing, I feel like I have to watch." He admitted. "Though maybe next year you and I should find a hiding spot away from screens and wait it out?"

"I like that idea," Moxie commented, chewing on her lower lip as she chanced a glance back over to the screen, not wanting to pay too much attention to the Game itself but wanting to keep her eye on her tributes. She cringed and turned back toward Mason and said, "I feel like we should go do something else – I don't know – I think maybe go get a coffee."

She was only getting around to feeding herself now, about two in the afternoon, finally feeling able to stomach it. Finch and Ash were okay for now, though not for lack close misses.

"I haven't been able to, so that would be kind of lovely," Moxie said, grimacing with a bit of extra fervor than usual. She leaned up against the counter and mussed with her hair, pushing it out of her face but trying to keep it neat and tidy in case she was needed to face sponsors. "I could help if you want?" Moxie offered finally pushing off the counter and moving around to the other side where Hestia was, "I've never been terribly good at not being busy

“What’s your guess for the arena?” Abel asked as he slid up beside Moxie without a hello, because he always found them to be too formal. “If you guess right, I’ll treat you to a night on the town” he offered then. “If you’re wrong, you’ve to give me a back massage for at least 30 minutes” he smirked then. “What do you reckon?”

"Pandora too." it was a pretty name, not one she'd ever heard before. "She's a great helper. you should see how well she scrubs dishes. or takes clothes down from the line, even if she's got to be on your shoulders to reach it..." It had linden wistful for chores, for a lazy saturday afternoon with her family, making their little home tidier.

"Oh that's adorable," Moxie cheered her hands clapping together, which Pandora then mimicked with her own little giggle. "Pandora's still learning how to be an amazing helper," Moxie cooed, though it wasn't that Pandora needed to really help her with anything other than picking up her little toys from around the house.

There was a domenor shift in Moxie, and Linden didn't know what to do with it. the request to talk about El was perhaps expected, but there was something in Linden akin to pride. she didn't want pity, didn't want people to worry for her or her kid. They'd always gotten along fine. She'd always made sure...

Moxie hadn't considered that there could be kids smaller than Pandora. It wasn't that Pandora was exactly at the bottom of her weight and height classes it was just –

"I'm shit at apologies," he said, something that was probably already obvious from everything about him. "I'm more of the... double-down type. Maybe I can just make new friends?" He didn't mean it, though; he wanted his old ones back.

"Slate," Moxie said, her voice firm. "Avoiding them isn't going to fix everything either," She cooed, her lips pressing into a firm line, doing her best to keep her hands to herself and off of him if just to give breathing room, "Avoiding it could just make it all way more uncomfortable and I don't think being uncomfy every time you step inside this silly old tower is a good move, do you? Give it a chance, even if it's hard and the opposite of doubling down, if not for you, do it for my sake? I miss seeing you happy around here."