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[oraculi]

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week one; wednesday night

[oraculi]

[He's been watching her run around in nothing but a bikini all day, which was pretty nice for him (and everyone else, frankly). More than once she'd glanced over his way, catching him staring, but there was no embarrassment to be found there: he'd just grinning and offered her a little salute with whatever bottle he'd had at the time, his eyes lingering here and there. Why not? She looks good, and she knows that he's into her. Why not stare?

Besides: protection means keeping her in his sights, so.

Anyway. Now the sun's set, and he's leaning up against a wall near the doorway. The party, such as it is, is in full-swing, and that's nice, but he's never been one for socializing. Instead: he watches and waits, and when she comes near, he stares down at her with no small measure of amusement.]

Hey.

Bored with splashing around?

[polyapathy]

[Every time she catches him watching her, there's a little twist of excitement in her gut. She's always loved eyes on her, which is why she spends most of the evening flitting around the party and flirting with the others. She wants to keep him watching.

But eventually, yes, she does get bored. She saunters his way eventually, making no effort to hide the word UNFAITHFUL etched along the base of her neck. He's likely seen it already, anyway. She's never been good at covering up.]

Haymitch.

[She gives him a little nod, then leans against the wall next to him, her hands folded behind her back.]

More like I'm bored of not understanding a thing about these people. There's a pair here that flies around on airships back home. They're alchemists.

[Which, no shade, really. She likes Escha, and Logy seems alright—it's just a lot to take in.]

[oraculi]

What'd I tell you about trying to make sense of this place?

[He shrugs. Maybe they're lying and maybe they're not, and maybe the world is more bizarre than anything he could have ever imagined.]

But if you want a change of pace, think I can help you out there.

[He looks down at her. His own brand is cut off, hidden beneath a rolled-up sleeve: I let twenty-four ki-- it reads, and she'll likely see the rest before they're through.]

[polyapathy]

I gave up making sense, but that sort of mind-bending shit comes up in conversation, and then what am I supposed to do? We don't have a lot of magic and demons and hundred-year-old-weapons-turned-twink in Ontario.

[Let her huff, is what she's saying.

She grins at the proposition, though she keeps her gaze on the party. It's about damned time.]

I could do with a shake-up. What'd you have in mind?

[oraculi]

C'mon.

[He lifts off the wall and nods his head, indicating she ought to follow. Nobody's in the changing station now, which makes the space kind of roomy. A few shower stalls and lockers coupled with sterile tile makes it pretty much like every single locker room in existence, so at least not everything about this place is bizarre.]

I still owe you one.

[He says it conversationally, turning to face her.]

Or maybe two, if you wanna be petty about it. How bout I settle that debt here and now?

week one trial; immediately afterwards

[oraculi]

[He's waiting in his bedroom-- and it is his bedroom now, singular possession-- for her. She'll come, he knows. He'd lost her in the shuffle, but she'll seek him out, he knows she will. And for now . . .

For now, he sits heavily on his bed, head bowed and breath shaking, his fingers wrapped so tightly around the neck of a new bottle that his knuckles have gone white.

[polyapathy]

[It takes a decent amount of time before she comes calling, actually—though it's just because she scours the rest of the ship top to bottom before thinking to go knock on his door. He's usually just around somewhere, lurking, vaguely keeping an eye on things as the rest write him off as a drunk. Will that change? It's too early to say, but she has a feeling their collective days of flying under the radar are over.

Anyway, she makes her way to his room once she's sure he's nowhere else, and then gives the door a kick.]

Let me in.

[oraculi]

[There's a long pause, and then some grumbling, but sooner or later the door opens. He leans heavily against the frame, staring down at her. He's drunk, naturally, but there's something extra heavy in his gaze as his eyes linger at her hair, down the curve of her cheek.]

Take the bed.

[He waves a hand towards it as he moves aside.]

Oughta sleep in here tonight. Might not be such a good idea for the recently suspected to be right where they always are.

[polyapathy]

[...Hm. She studies him for a moment, trying to figure out exactly what sort of state he's in. That trial was a lot for both of them.]

No one voted for me. It was plenty clear Monika was full of shit.

[But she heads to sit on the edge of the bed anyway.]

I'll stay here if you want me to, but I'm not kicking you out of bed.

week 2, post trial

[oraculi]

[He's a lot less disturbed this time around, but that doesn't mean he's okay. Just numb, really, but he's going to try and keep to this one bottle tonight. It's not hard to find Katy-- he mostly just hangs in his doorframe til he spots her, then jerks his head-- and he gives her a long look once the door is closed.]

First of all . . .

[Hm.]

That was pretty good, that word unscrambling.

[polyapathy]

[Yeah, yeah. She here, ready to answer for her aphro crimes.

In a minute, though. She'll just bask in the last few minutes of that buzz as she drops herself onto his couch.]

I'm the reigning champ of the Letterkenny Spelling Bee. Nine years running.

[Stewart beat her last year, but we do not speak of such things. No one needs to know that she's been wrongfully unseated from her throne.]

Drinking, fucking, and spelling. Now you've seen all my skills.

[oraculi]

I'm impressed.

[It really was a pretty remarkable bit of solving. More than he expected-- not because he underestimated her, necessarily, but who thinks of that as a skill?

That said: he stares at her with his head tipped just slightly, waiting for a response.]

You got anything else you wanna say for yourself?

[polyapathy]

Good. You should be.

[But if she doesn't light right up as he says that. Approval is her favorite thing.

As for the rest: He's gotta be talking about aphro crimes, which she stands by, so. She bites back a smile, ducking down just a hair to give him the "who, me?" eyes.]

Are you upset with me?

tuesday night, pre break in

[oraculi]

C'mere. I gotta talk to you.

[Is it a choice? No. Get your butt in his room, Katy, and ignore him as he speaks so low. It's probably for a reason.]

[polyapathy]

[Hm. Is this bad? She can't tell. He always kind of vaguely looks like he's expecting a trap, so this little aside could be about anything from "I found ten demons" to "Taako made a joke at me and I need you to explain wtf Desperate Housewives is".]

Well, pitter patter.

[She lets him kidnap her since, yeah, not much of a choice. Also, 👀...]

[oraculi]

[She should absolutely explain Desperate Housewives to this reality show survivor anyway, but . . .]

Certain people have certain roles here. Little advantages, or at least cheats. And I can finally tell you a few. [He thinks he can. He's pretty sure he can.]

Taako can check what people purchase from the gift shop and people's Finansex balance.

Kagachi can check if someone is possessed by a demon at the beginning of the week.

Dick gets mystery items when he does certain tasks, and the items are supposed to help us in some way. Beck's kinda the opposite, she makes a choice between three things a week that get randomly given out. You wanted to know where my bracelet came from? Her.

Nikkari? Has the ability to speak to the dead for a time just once a week. And Escha had the ability to save someone from an exorcism so they wouldn't die, though I'm guessing it couldn't be applied to herself. And Junpei finds everyone, that's his role. He finds others.

[polyapathy]

[...........WHAT??? This is so much, holy shit. She just balks for a long, long moment.]

And how do you know all of this, bud?

[Seems as good a place to start as any.]

tuesday night; week 3

[oraculi]

[They go right to his room.

He slams the door behind them, then shoves the chair beneath the knob. It won't keep anyone out for long, but it's a warning system. Then he sits her on the bed, hands firm on her shoulders. Stay there, as he goes to grab towels and dampen them in the sink.]

Clothes off.

[Let's take care of those burns first.]

[polyapathy]

[She hasn't decided if it's comforting or worrying yet, the way he guides her around. She's glad that he knows what to do—she'd probably just be a mess on her bathroom floor right now otherwise—but it's a bit scary, the way he barks orders at her, bars the fucking door like that thing might come back...]

I'm okay.

[She's not, clearly, but her point is that he hasn't failed her.

Her jacket is easy enough to shrug off, but after that, it gets tricky. By the time he comes back, she's down to her underwear save for her shirt, which she's struggling to navigate over her burnt shoulder. She's still very determined not to cry, but it's tough to stop the tears from welling up anyway.]

[oraculi]

[If he notices the tears, he doesn't say anything. Just takes the shirt's edge, easing it up over her shoulder, her head, pulling it off and putting it on the floor nearby.]

This'll sting a bit.

[It's a quiet warning, and he gives her time to digest it before pressing the wet edge of the towel to some of those burns.]

This'll draw the heat out. I want you to sit in a cool bath before we sleep tonight.

[He's kneeling before her, his head bowed as he focuses on his work. Silent, but then:]

You did good, Katy-Kat.

[polyapathy]

[It does sting, but not as much as undressing did, and fuck if it doesn't take the edge off.

But then, Katy-Kat— Her eyes snap up at him. Did he hear that in one of her memories? Fuck, if Reilly and Jonesy could see her now. She misses them, stupid as they are, and she's still shaken from seeing Dary on screen...

Wayne would be proud of her. If Haymitch is, Wayne would be too, and he will be—once she gets home, and if he believes her, and—she might not see any of them ever again. Getting home is not a guarantee, it never was. She could die here. She could die in a couple of days, or it could be Haymitch, and then what the fuck would she do? For as much as she's insisted he's not responsible for her, having to face this place without him just... doesn't sound possible.

Katy-Kat, and god, he says it so automatically, and that's the tipping point. She sucks in a hard breath, clinging to the hope that she'll be able to hold it together, but bottling never works. In the next moment she's reaching for him, arms wrapping around his neck even though it hurts like hell to stretch like that, to drop herself onto the carpet with her leg still on fire.

But she's kept her composure through it all and this is the price of that, her sobbing into his shoulder and clinging to him fiercely. It's been building for weeks, really.]

Monday night; week 4

[oraculi]

[This'd started with a trip to the BDSM shop.

Not particularly to buy anything. Just to look. Why not? It's not like he's got much else to do around here. And with Katy sticking by so close, they might as well peruse. To both their surprise, it's Haymitch who knows more. Katy's far from lacking in knowledge, but he's the one who's had to see two decades of Capitol crap; he knows exactly how a bunch of this shit works. He wishes he didn't, but he absolutely does.

Anyway. One thing led to another, and honestly, a quick fuck is always good to take your mind off things. Saturday things, for example, because Katy might not show it, but he's sure she's still rattled.

So there's this: her flat on her back and her arms over her head, his hand gripping her wrists and keeping her in place while he fucks her. He slows down a few times, teasing, delighting in how she fusses, but sooner or later he brings her to climax. And himself too, of course, he's not going to pass up a chance to leave her dripping.

So now there's this: sharing a cigarette and laying around with very few things on. He's got his trousers, but that's about it; a shirt is impossible right now. And if she wants to walk around with nothing on, well, shit, he's not gonna argue.]

You really think after forty years I don't know what half that shit does?

[An idle pickup of their previous conversation.]

[polyapathy]

[i'm glad the order of operations here is: threesome with beck -> hey let's dick around in the bdsm shop -> haha we fuckin again, ya wan know what good for haymitch, good for him.]

Oh, shut up. I never took you for sheltered. Excuse me for assuming folks don't have time for sex swings where you come from.

[She's got his shirt on because that's just the thing she's doing this week. And, hm, things she's not doing this week? This bingo thing, which would typically be up her alley, but even after her conversation with Edelgard, she's loathe to push it.

Point is, Katy's studying the bingo card on her clamshell and hogging the cigarette while she uses Haymitch's stomach as a pillow.]

You know, Edelgard came to talk to me earlier.

[time to have like three conversations at once ig, whoops.]

[oraculi]

[Well, there goes the atmosphere.

He was loose and languid from the sex, but now he goes rigid, stiff, sitting up and staring down at her.]

The hell did she want?

[polyapathy]

Oh my god.

[She will argue until her dying breath that it is him that has fucked up the vibe, not her, she was chill! She was comfy! And then he had to go and move and ugh now she'll have to get all settled in and again grumble grumble grumble...]

Take about ten to fifteen percent off the top there, big shoots. It's good news.

[She nudges at him to lay back down again. She? was? comfy?]

Remember what you told me about Escha? What her role could do?