Alder halfheartedly held up his own drink-- he'd only just mimicked Maverick's order, unable to conjure up anything that actually sounded good-- and sipped at the beer. His phone was open on the bartop between them, open to a feed tracking Willow and Bark. His eyes darted down to it every few seconds, just to be sure, even though nothing had changed in hours.
His eyes flickered up to the screen in the corner of the bar, which had commentary running. They were now showing a tribute from another District, engaging in a fight with a--
The color drained from his face, and he reached over to grip Maverick's forearm tightly. "Mav," he choked out, eyes locked on the reptilian mutt on the screen, something out of place and too old for this time. "Those are-- they were in my--" His knuckles went white around Maverick's sleeve, flashing mentally on the image of not just those lizards, but all the mutts that had tried to kill him again and again and again in his first Arena.
Maverick paused, his drink to his lips, following Alder's gaze to the screen. He recognized those fucking things, alright. He'd never seen them up close, of course, but he'd seen them on the TV. From pretty much the same vantage point he had now. He could remember pretty much every damn minute of those Games -- Everett's and Alder's. Watching his best friend in the Arena in his place; what should have been his Arena. "Where the fuck did they drag those things out from?" he murmured.
