He could go into the mentor's lounge if he liked, right? After all, he used to be one himself; what did it matter if his time mentoring had been short-lived or that it was almost a hundred years ago, he once held the title.
Lionel opened up the fridge in the corner of the room, plucking a can of soda from one of the shelves and promptly pulling off the sticky note that read ‘cain’s property’, chucking it into the trash. He jumped a bit when he turned around to hightail it out of the lounge, not expecting to see someone, especially some little kid, in here with him. “Oh, hi. Are you lost?” he guessed that the boy was another tribute, and maybe he could get away with pretending he was a mentor, if he was lucky.
@constellatory said on my old blog: " we can talk in the morning. for now, you need to rest."
this was bad. very bad. he wasn't supposed to be there. none of this was supposed to happen. stevie was carrying out a task that one of her higher-ups had asked her to do. a mole she needed to eliminate. it was nighttime and the shroud of the darkness concealed most of the situation in the back alley. but what she didn't expect was for her target to hear her sneak up on him. and instead of running away , he fought back. stevie vaguely remembers getting into a very intense struggle with him and getting clocked directly in the nose , blood dripping down her mouth and chin. the target then had her pinned up against the wall with both hands constricting her airway. a bruising grip. it was only then that she heard another person approach them and pry the male from her figure. easily thrown to the ground as if he weighed nothing. her eyes flickered to her savior --- you've got to be fucking kidding me.
there was two choices in this situation because it was cain who had somehow miraculously appeared. one , go through with her job and plant a bullet in the skull of her target. two , run and let him take care of the situation. she was driven. so she finished the job and didn't care that cain could certainly glass her for it in the future. he couldn't say anything at this point. his programming wouldn't let him. stevie's quick to pull her suppressed pistol from her holster and fire at the male who'd been struggling on the ground. in a moment's notice he is no longer an issue. the android didn't even need to say anything before he motioned her to come with. obviously they both needed to get the hell out of dodge before this looks really bad on them both. i'm going to owe him , aren't i? great. just damn peachy.
he took her home. but how the hell did he know where she lived? actually. that was a stupid question. he was an investigative android who's sole purpose was to solve things like this. of course he knew where she lived. anxiety and fear come rushing up her throat while she speaks.
" you weren't supposed to see that-- how did you-- "
[ W E C A N T A L K I N T H E M O R N I N G. F O R N O W, Y O U
N E E D T O R E S T. ]
that wasn't good. that was an announcement of silent rage --- even if he didn't express anything. all she could do was open the door to her apartment and dread every single minute that came after. in the morning , he would probably verbally kick her shit in. fantastic.
i'm amazed you made it this far . ( cain @ stevie <3 )
@constellatory said : i’m amazed you made it this far .
❝ without getting caught? i was sure by this point you were going to arrest me, ❞ she raises a singular eyebrow but her smile still remains, people pass by them without paying them a single glance, ❝ no one is going to say anything — they call me to do the dirty work so their hands don’t get sullied. besides i have another job too— i fix androids. this just happens to be my … side job. ❞ they were working together, probably much to cain’s dismay , she didn’t know why specifically they wanted them together ( of course she wasn’t given details just : do it ). being around him was making her nervous. it was like walking on egg shells. would he apprehend her? would he not? cyberlife could only protect her so much. she was careful but cain was very attentive and intuitive. though it seemed like he really enjoyed fucking with her and dancing around the subject. it was fine though — it wouldn’t get under her skin. maybe.
repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words
never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend ||
First impression of them:
I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them
Current impression of them:
I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them
How good of a kisser:
worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || we haven’t kissed
🚦 - be stuck in an elevator with, be stuck in traffic with, be stuck in the apocalypse with.
"All of these qualify as my worst nightmare, but for the sake of the argument... Cain is slightly less intolerable, so it'd probably be safest to be stuck in an elevator with him. Nate would hopefully at least have the sense to shut the fuck up for the car ride. Carew has a level-head, so we would have the best chance of survival in the apocalypse together."
“um. hi,” xav sent a little polite wave towards cain, already cringing at how awkward this was. xavien didn’t know how to act around kids cain’s age. he probably should have known, considering how much he worked with them as a mentor, but xav had always felt old around them, even the kids he taught dance to, years ago. “do you know how to dance??”
On the last day of the 122nd Games, Everett died. Maverick’s best friend and lifelong confidant, his back split by the blade of an axe. For the past two weeks, Maverick had been holding his breath, expecting to see something similar happen to his own tributes. For he did feel a sense of responsibility, larger than he had expected. While Orpheus remained largely uncaring, he and Ariadne had managed to wrangle sponsors and get Cain the gifts he needed to keep him safe through the Arena. What was more, the boy had found himself in an alliance that protected him.
Maverick was sitting close to the screen for those final hours, knowing that the Games were coming to an end. He saw the two he had perhaps been rooting for the most, in a cave together, huddled.
Amanda, the daughter of two Victors, a spitfire, who had given him a namesign. He’d spent some wakeful nights in the Tower watching a course on PSL on his phone in the hopes that he could improve in case she did win, a promise he’d like to make good on.
When she walked into the water, he did as she had taught him: the word kindness with his hand in the shape of an M. Maverick. And then he signed to her, Thank you.
Because this meant that Cain had won. Thanks to Mandi, his twelve-year-old Academy kid, Career with the legacy of Victors, who had volunteered just hours after becoming eligible, had won. He’d won the Hunger Games, and he had done it without killing anyone.
He watched the screen as Cain was lifted by the jaws of the hovercraft. He could hear cheering on the street and from the main floor of the Tower, but on Two, it was muffled, distant. Cain’s fingers were in the sand, he was looking down on the Arena, his watery home for these past nine days. He grabbed the writing tablet and Maverick’s heart broke for the boy.
Another win, then, for District Two. Maverick switched off the TV and his face came to rest in his hands. The only way he knew he was crying was from the wet on his palms.
