un•re•pent•ant

Everett nodded, while at the same time mentally making a note that Rio did not seem to have much loyalty. Sure, Caspian could survive without Mason, probably, but Caspian's entire plan seemed to hinge on getting close with Mason. Why ruin that? "Well, you know Two. We are pretty brutal."

Chuckling, Rio barely suppressed the urge to coo. "No you're not." Nothing that he'd seen of the current generation in Two had been particularly brutal. Just a little bit lost. "You're not brutal at all, really, but A for fucking effort, I guess. You're coddlers, but it's kind of cute sometimes." If it hadn't been so sad at times.

Slate knew he was in a precarious position and had to stay on Rio's good side, but the man truly pissed him off. He had to bite his tongue not to say shit about how it was an obvious ploy to learn more about the zine he'd found, but he couldn't help himself from a slight retort: "Well, I'd be tempted to agree, but I find alcohol turns nice people into assholes. I'm not really interested in being an ass. Is that the case for you, Rio?" He blinked up at him pleasantly.

"Some people might say I'm an ass whether I drink or not, so that's not really an excuse," Rio shot back, entirely unimpressed and downright amused by now. "Come on now, Skylar. How're you gonna fit in with the likes of Cress Meadowforge if you're going to chicken out of even the simplest of challenges? A bit embarrassing, don't you think?" Rio's voice dropped into a low drawl, shaking his head with mock disappointment.

"Got you a lil' somethin'," Cat greeted as she joined Rio in one of the drink lines. She presented a brownie, carefully wrapped in a bit of parchment paper to him and stated, "Consider it a 'sorry I ain't been hangin' around as much."

Rio's gaze turned from hooded and bored to hooded and entertained rather quickly when Cat handed him the brownie. "And why haven't you been hanging around as much, kitty cat?" Rio questioned, picking a piece of brownie to stuff it into his mouth as he looked at her, expectantly.

"Oh, I'm sure they do," Cress appraised, critical of the crowd: a leering, lecherous group who thought cash equated to foreplay. Perhaps it did, for some. "But not you, right?" Her tone was taunting, though what she was challenging, Cress wasn't sure.

Her hand collided with his cheek sharply and Rio's head whipped to the side. He clicked his tongue, wincing for only the barest, shortest second before looking back at her, almost bored. The sting was normal for him by now, but he did not need it a second time around. To prevent her from smacking him again, he reached out to grab her wrist, to stop her from beating him in the middle of the ballroom.

"Not sure how I feel about a grass dance floor," Cain said, the last bit of a Catcake still at the back of his throat. He was refueling between dance sessions when he found himself next to Rio. "Like, it looks sick, don't get me wrong, but it's not the easiest to move on, and I can't imagine it's not a pain in the ass for everybody who came in heels. I don't know, am I crazy? Is it a vibe?"

"Seems to the common vibe that it sucks tonight," Rio found himself snorting. "I don't know what they expected. Maybe they should've written 'no heels allowed' in the dress code somewhere."

"I'm devastated that you think I'm neither of those things," Miller deadpanned, barely glancing sideways. Rio sounded at least a little bit drunk and Miller couldn't be sure if that was better or worse for him. The last time they'd talked, which Rio had been sober for, had only remained neighbourly for a short while. "Everyone knows you're the subject matter expert on both."

"I really am," he deadpanned back, looking back over at the screen. Mason was nowhere to be seen yet and Rio pettily hoped it would stay that way, only so that he could see that vein in Miller's forehead pulsate for a little while longer. "So. You wanna talk about your feelings or something? Some people say I'm a good listener, but most people tend to say dumb things. If you're not going to say dumb shit, I'll listen."

Everett nodded. He got it. The duality of rooting for more than one tribute was fucking hard. At least Smith was gone, and he was back to one. Mason had to win. "Sure, I mean, I'd love to send Mason a note saying 'Don't trust him.' I just need it in writing that you won't kill me in my sleep."

"Kill you for what. The fucking truth? Is that how you guys operate over in Two?" Rio raised an unimpressed brow. "He shouldn't trust him, and you should say it. Caspian can handle this fucking thing very well without your kid's support."

"I think I noticed a few buckets outside in the garden," Slate said. "And there's a hose. Let's go." He acted like he was going to walk out the door, but instead, an Avox passed by carrying a plate of drinks. He grabbed a drink and what he knew was a juice, and before the Avox could leave, he reached into his pocket, pulled out a few bills, and quietly, without much movement, placed the bills onto the plate. "Thanks," he said, making eye contact quickly, then turning back to Rio.

Only mildly impressed and thankful, he took the drink Slate offered him. Rio was peeved that the other man's drink was juice of all fucking things, but he chose not to comment on it. Somehow, he'd get somewhere. "I ask a question and you have to answer truthfully, or else you have to drink actual real alcohol. How's that sound? If you're scared your mommy's gonna oppose, I'll talk to her. No worries."

"You get it." Link looked around, trying to sus out if there was a good spot to build a bonfire. "You know, as much as I could go for smores, I don't see a fire pit." and she really didn't want to commit arson at a mentor's ball. "Do you think if we asked avoxes nicely, they'd have one?"

"What, you're saying the Avoxes would build a fucking fire if we asked them real sweet and nice?" Rio snorted, though it was less derisive than normally. "We should try that. We should absolutely fucking try that." Rio's gaze flickered through the room before settling on an Avox moving right their way. "Do you wanna ask or should I?"

He laughed a bit, though it was dry. "Yeah, Miller's... Miller's in a pretty bad place, I'd be freaked out if I were you," he agreed. "You actually want to help Mason though? Wouldn't you prefer to bring Caspian home, or do you not trust Mason either?"

"Oh no, I do. I do want to get him out. He's like... my friend or some shit," he grumbled. "But I have my ways. I'll send him a note calling him a pussy and he'll rise out of the Arena to personally choke me to death." He paused then, for several moments. "And while Mason's unhinged with the shit he says most of the time, maybe it would be a little sad to see him die."

"Ah, someone hasn't been studying the menu at the Metropolis Mixology stand," he said, tsking his tongue and feeling like a goddamn narc just for saying the words 'Metropolis Mixology.' "It's a drink. Says it's got gelatin, whipped cream, ice cream, and candy. Plus something called lusterdust." He had memorized it because he wanted to put a few of the menu items into TH3 T0MMYKN0CK3R's next issue, just to stoke some anger, so people could see what the fuck was actually going on at these stupid things. "In Twelve we drink gutter water out of buckets." The last part was a joke — it wasn't gutter water, it was rainwater.

"Oh," Rio muttered, almost a little disappointed. He grimaced as Slate listed off the ingredients. It sounded fucking disgusting. Though,, what sounded even worse was Twelve's gutter water. "Alright, I won't get you that Raspberry bullshit, 'cause you sort of have the vibe of a frail Dark Days kid and having you drop dead in the middle of the ball would be inconvenient. Anything else? Maybe I can find some gutter water somewhere, or a drink in a bucket, if you'd prefer that." This was far nicer of him than he wanted to be. Rio furrowed his brows. "I'm just really fucking bored. Humor me a little, Skylar."

"No, you're not the only one," Everett said. He hadn't slept properly in days, felt like he had to constantly monitor Mason's and Smith's -- well, just Mason's -- actions. And cozying up with the most suspicious fucking Career had him stressed out. At least Alecta and Cyril were open about being snakes. "They're two different types of Careers, it doesn't really... match up. I don't know. Not to be suspicious of your tribute but... Well, yeah. I'm suspicious of your tribute." He laughed a bit.

"Good," Rio responded curtly. At least someone was on the same page as him. "Good, Evvie," he repeated, lifting his glass in a mock cheers. "Normally I wouldn't give a shit about who falls for Caspian's bullshit, but just because I like you so much, and Miller kind of freaks me out, we should try and work something out or some shit. Send them notes to steer them where we want them."

Rio was the last person Slate wanted to see. He felt like he'd done a piss-poor job of acting innocent. He wanted to trust that Rio would mind his damn business as many of the Victors in this Tower did, looking the other way when their friends or acquaintances slipped away to, say, bomb the Tower lobby and fight some Peacekeepers. But it was Rio, he was a Career. (Cress was a Career, too, though.)

"A nonalcoholic version of the what-the-fuck now?" Rio stared at Slate uncomprehending, a furrow to his brows. "Is that something you play in Twelve?" If the nonalcoholic version was already killer, Rio was sort of keen to find out what it would be like while drinking. Perhaps that was just what he needed to get through this night.

"it does. the dance floor's grass, so I can't even get around on it. and..." and she didn't say what else. and io. Nano wasn't okay. she'd tried, but he wasn't going to be. so she'd excused him early, but she had another tribute to get funds for. somehow. "but we don't have to waste time on people like that."

"Yes. Yes exactly. No time to waste on fuckers like that." He looked around the room, stopping in his tracks. There had to be something to do besides the grass dancefloor, the food and the drinks. "See anything interesting? We could make a bonfire or something."

@riodair

Needless to say, it was a surprise when Miller sat down next to him. Wordless, at that. Just staring up at the monitor the bench was slightly angled towards. One of his brothers was dead, and Rio secretly wondered if this had been the right answer to his question. Who'd Miller rather get back out of the two? Was it Mason in the end? Not that he had any choice left now.

"please." she hissed, semi-begging until he realized it. but he did, and she calmed, having escaped the conversation. "no, he doesn't. it's a non-starter." she was tired of listening to it, and happy to see his delirious face moved on. "tell me you've been having a better night?"

Pretend empathetic, Rio patted Links hand on his arm. "Ah, well. Fuck him." Moving on to her question, Rio hummed to himself. Was he having a better night? So far, it had lead to nothing of interest, or at least nothing that he had been expecting. "Not really," he finally, begrudgingly admitted. "This night kind of sucks, don't you think?"

"Well that's what you get for waiting too long. You've had years, and -- as expected -- only want what you can't have," a cool shrug, a wicked grin. Though at the mention of monogamy, Cress clucked her tongue. "Where? Would you like me to show you on something anatomically accurate?" But that too was masking the unspoken thought -- that Cress wasn't sure she'd been all that intentional about monogamy. She'd just happened to fall into that. "With the proper partner, Rio, there's plenty of fun to be had."

Morbidly curious, Rio tilted his head to the side. "Do you have something anatomically accurate? Whip it out, let's see you conduct a fucking biology class. God knows some people at this ball fucking need it." He could only snort at the words Cress added by the end. Though, he had no retort. If only because the entire partner for life spiel made him mildly uncomfortable.