Walter Sullivan (
illdrinktothat) wrote in
neverinyourfavor2014-10-22 10:48 am
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[district 12]
The day of the Reaping has come as it always does, and District 12's sole victor, Walter Sullivan, is ringing in the event in the manner with which he is accustomed to. That is, of course, by getting blackout drunk the night before and being utterly unresponsive on the morning of.
He doesn't hear the Capitol escort knock at his door. Likewise, he doesn't hear the same Capitol escort come in the house, call out, or stomp his way up the stairs, back down the stairs, and through the house. He doesn't hear Weyoun's reaction to him being passed out in the hallway. He's not aware of anything and then suddenly he's very acutely aware he's very cold and very wet, and there is an incredibly annoyed Trinket standing over him, holding an empty bucket.
Walter sputters cursewords, hefting himself up onto his elbows and shaking his head vigorously - he regrets that very quickly. The room spins, and neither the hangover haze or the cold water are moved any. "The hell is your problem?" He snarls once he gains some amount of coherency again.
"We're going to be late, Mr. Sullivan," Weyoun tuts, frowning, as if there is truly no offense worse than that. Late. How very dare. "Get yourself prepared, please. And no drinking. I expect you to be composed. This is a very important day."
Walter's not to pleased with the authority Trinket apparently thinks he's wielding here. No drinking? Like hell. Still, he clumsily pushes himself up more. "Fine, fine. Just get the fuck out of my house." He blinks blearily at the icecubes on his clothes, the floor. Did that shithead actually dump ice on his head? That's just cruel.
"Very well," Weyoun answers primly, tucking the bucket delicately under his arm. He stares down his nose at the victor for a long moment before turning and making his way back down the hall. "I'll see you at the justice building, Mr. Sullivan."
Walter stubbornly sits in the puddle of cold water and melting ice until he hears the front door shut behind Weyoun. Getting up is a lot more difficult than he'd like to admit; stiff, achey limbs from his choice of bed, the ever increasing hangover... and the puddle. He slips and nearly falls a few times before making it to his feet properly. Goddamn Trinket. Goddamn Capitol. Goddamn Hunger Games.
The prep team and getting ready can wait. Right now, he makes a beeline down the hall for the nearest room, and the nearest bottle of booze. No drinking, sure.
He doesn't hear the Capitol escort knock at his door. Likewise, he doesn't hear the same Capitol escort come in the house, call out, or stomp his way up the stairs, back down the stairs, and through the house. He doesn't hear Weyoun's reaction to him being passed out in the hallway. He's not aware of anything and then suddenly he's very acutely aware he's very cold and very wet, and there is an incredibly annoyed Trinket standing over him, holding an empty bucket.
Walter sputters cursewords, hefting himself up onto his elbows and shaking his head vigorously - he regrets that very quickly. The room spins, and neither the hangover haze or the cold water are moved any. "The hell is your problem?" He snarls once he gains some amount of coherency again.
"We're going to be late, Mr. Sullivan," Weyoun tuts, frowning, as if there is truly no offense worse than that. Late. How very dare. "Get yourself prepared, please. And no drinking. I expect you to be composed. This is a very important day."
Walter's not to pleased with the authority Trinket apparently thinks he's wielding here. No drinking? Like hell. Still, he clumsily pushes himself up more. "Fine, fine. Just get the fuck out of my house." He blinks blearily at the icecubes on his clothes, the floor. Did that shithead actually dump ice on his head? That's just cruel.
"Very well," Weyoun answers primly, tucking the bucket delicately under his arm. He stares down his nose at the victor for a long moment before turning and making his way back down the hall. "I'll see you at the justice building, Mr. Sullivan."
Walter stubbornly sits in the puddle of cold water and melting ice until he hears the front door shut behind Weyoun. Getting up is a lot more difficult than he'd like to admit; stiff, achey limbs from his choice of bed, the ever increasing hangover... and the puddle. He slips and nearly falls a few times before making it to his feet properly. Goddamn Trinket. Goddamn Capitol. Goddamn Hunger Games.
The prep team and getting ready can wait. Right now, he makes a beeline down the hall for the nearest room, and the nearest bottle of booze. No drinking, sure.
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He straightens up and goes about pulling the rest of the leaves out of his hair. His chest hurts. Stupid Rukia and her stupidly hard head. "Time for you to hurry your ass up, that's what time it is," He pauses, pulling his hair out of the ponytail so he can try and shake out what bits of leaves remain. "You slept in late."
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Now that breakfast is at least nominally taken care of, she can grump back and start putting on her Reaping Day clothes. At least the dress still fits okay. That's something, right? Might as well find some bright side to being so damn short. She makes a show of hogging their busted up mirror while she deals with her hair. Renji hates it when she does that. Heh.
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He's not fast enough to stop her from taking over their broken mirror. Again. "Hey!" He grumbles, clamoring to his feet so he can maybe attempt to elbow her over a bit."You don't need to take up the whole damn thing." And yeah, her hair's a mess, but he's pretty sure his face might still have... quite a bit of dirt on it.
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...He might have a point about her hair, though. Her hair's always a mess in the morning even without tossing and turning from stupid nightmares. And today is Reaping Day, so someone might actually care about what it looks like. Ugh. It takes fighting with it for a few minutes, but Rukia finally gets it scraped back into a stupid little ponytail. It looks much better down, but whatever. Not like she wants to look good for the fucking Capitol anyway.
"There," she growls triumphantly. "I'm done with the stupid mirror." She starts hopping into her stupid Reaping Day shoes. "But since you're still making yourself pretty, I guess I better eat your breakfast." There! That's the second shoe on. Rukia makes a dash back to the kitchen to grab the other biscuit.
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He should have gotten home to deal with this sooner, or maybe skipped his hill rolling adventure entirely. His hair's a mess, he's still got dirt all over him and no time for a bath of any kind. All he can do is wipe the filth off and try and pull back his hair in something vaguely resembling an orderly way. It's a messy ponytail, as usual. The Capitol can bite him.
The threat of stealing his breakfast earns a very serious eye-roll from him. Yeah, no time for his breakfast. He's only just changing into his stupid reaping day clothes. "Knock yourself out."
He's done a bit after she is, looking... less like he rolled down a hill, unless you happen to look particularly closely. He puts his shoes on before he pulls his shirt over his head, stumbling awkwardly in his rush to get his shit together. He pauses only to grab one of his dumb headbands, and ties it while he sprints through - and out of - the house. And right past Rukia.
"C'mon, you can eat more after we're done with this stupid thing," He calls out on his way out the door.
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They are. It's clear from how few kids they see as they run to town. It's mostly just adults and kids too little to be Reaped milling around now, and even they're mostly heading for the square. Great. Rukia finishes the biscuit as she runs-- she's no stranger to eating and running. She had to do a lot of that before she found Renji and they learned to feed themselves.
It's a good thing she's finished eating by the time they skid into line to be checked and sent into the square. There's barely anyone still waiting. The woman jabbing fingers is the same one that really hates Rukia for some reason (probably icky poor cooties or something). She's the reason Rukia has to wear her hair in a dumb little ponytail. The woman sniffs disdainfully at her, jabs her finger with more force than necessary, and boredly tells her to fuck off. Maybe not quite in those words, but that's what she's saying.
Rukia nods at Renji and makes her way over to the girls' side of the square. It's her last year, so she's in the back. At least she won't have to look at Trinket's stupid face. Now where the hell is everybody? Rukia has to stretch up on tiptoe, but she does finally catch a glimpse of Lichfield's dumb red hair. Good.
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The man in charge of collecting blood identification looks him up and down for what seems like a very long moment. Renji keeps his face very carefully blank. He knows he's still got scuffs and scratches on him, and his hair is something he tends to get shit for every other year. But after a tense few seconds, he gets his finger jabbed and is sent on his way.
He finds his way to the back of the crowd of boys, though who he's looking for isn't exactly hard to spot. Between Kurosaki's bright orange hair and Sado's height, they're easy to pick out of a crowd. He doesn't even get a chance to say anything once he finds them, though. Ichigo wheels around and smacks him on the back of his head.
"Ow! Hey! What was that --" He stops abruptly, catching the eye of one of the Peace Keepers as Trinket toddles onstage to begin the procession. He continues in a whisper once the dumb video starts, though. "What was that for?"
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"What the hell happened? Did you forget?" Ichigo whispers forcefully, ducking his head down a little. He squints at Renji. "What - what is on you? Are those scratches? Are those scratches on your neck? Did you already talk to Is--"
"Shhhh!" Renji interrupts, looking deeply offended.
"--to Issui?" Ichigo feigns a very concerned look. "Because she got here on time."
Ichigo ignores all of Renji's other attempts to shush him. He also ignores the very carefully timed strangling gestures the other redhead's making at him. "Clearly one of you had a good time, and one of you had a bad time, but I can't tell which is whihc."
Renji looks a little like he might be about to kill him. He just reaches over and punches Ichigo in the arm a lot. Ichigo returns the favor until it becomes very obvious they can't keep getting away with it.
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Rukia glares at her and opens her mouth to retort, but that's when Trinket decides to trot onstage and start his little speech. After he finally shuts up and the video starts, Rukia elbows Caro and hisses, "Like you have any room to talk, dumbass!"
"Sure I do," Caro whispers back, "I got here on time." She grins smugly at Rukia and folds her arms. "Nice ponytail, by the way." On her other side, Issui is trying very hard not to laugh at their shenanigans.
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Shinobu raises her brows at Rukia's choice of entrance. "What, I don't get a hello?" She asks with a sniff, mouth turning down into a frown. She even pouts, a little. "I'm hurt," She adds, a statement she punctuates by leaning over and flicking Rukia's sad little ponytail.
She spares a glance over at the boys' side, and immediately has to try very hard not to laugh. "What happened to him? He fall down a hill or something?"
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Rukia leans around her and Issui to yank one of Shinobu's looped pigtails. "Good morning, your majesty." She reaches for Issui's hair on her way back, but can't quite reach without attracting too much attention. "Dammit Yanagi, you're still too tall," Rukia grumbles.
"Nah, you're just tiny," Caro says absentmindedly. While all the hair pulling was going on, she also glanced over at the boys. Renji definitely looks like he rolled down a hill. She rolls her eyes at Ichigo and shrugs a little before turning back to Rukia. "Did he fall down a hill?"
"Probably, that idiot," Rukia whispers back, shaking her head. "As far as I can tell, that's all he did this morning, too."
"While you slept in, I bet." Caro knows how this works by now.
Poor Issui is so much taller than the other girls-- not just Shinobu, Rukia, and Caro, but all the girls-- that she can't really do or say anything without attracting a lot of attention. So she closes her eyes, sighs, and shakes her head slightly.
"I know, right? Disgusting layabouts," Caro says, leaning around Issui to give Shinobu a meaningful look. She sleeps in too.
"Clearly she was deeply moved by this brilliant piece of cinema," Rukia murmurs in a passable Capitol accent. She sounds a lot like the weirdo they had before Trinket.