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“Alder, c’mere” Abel was drunk, which wasn’t a good thing, but it was a whole lot better than the Abel from a few hours ago, who destroyed his room and cried under the duvet. He wrapped his arm around Alder’s shoulder, to pull him closer, but also to steady himself as well. “Can you believe we’re about to fight to the death? You and me? How fucking crazy is that?”
@alder-reid
“Alder” Abel sang, leaning over in his chair in the mentor’s lounge when he spotted him. He was already a few drinks in, because what else can you do when they launch the games at fucking midnight? “Did you know, I’ve been banned from calling Maverick Mav?” he laughed. “I tried to call him Rick but he wouldn’t accept that either” he frowned. “What do you call him?”
@alder-reid
“I think the outer districts” Abel made a face at the term he’d just used, because he hated it, but it was universal, rolled off the tongue, unfortunately. “I think we’re quite strong this time ‘round” he admitted, eyeing up his own two, before moving on to Alder’s, as they stood in one of the corners of the training centre, watching, like most of the other mentors. “Although, the careers do look as strong as always, too” he hummed. And it was odd, he wasn’t usually one to strategise, and Alder was the same as far as he could tell— but he needed to help Oxford, and Farina of course, but Ox, well his story was a lot closer to home.
@alder-reid
“So I was thinking” Abel started with, clapping Alder on the shoulder, probably a little harder than he needed to, but once the alcohol had seeped through his veins, Abel was always a little more heavy with his movements than usual. “If you and Mav were ever into experimenting” he wiggled his brows suggestively, held his grip on Alder’s shoulder because the coordination of moving one’s eyebrows while drunk might have him falling over if he had to balance himself all on his own. “I’m a free bird, you know? Just putting it out there— just incase you needed to spice things up”
@alder-reid
