pretendingly | HUNGER GAMES AU

[ Jones to Jess. Several drinks ago, she would have noticed the switch.

She can take him up on his offer, or he and Spock will stay and keep an eye on her. They have no choice but to mitigate the situation somehow, not that she pities them. And she's not going to sit here with no booze and pity herself, either. ]

I'll go if I get the whes-- the rest of my damn whiskey. [ Standing a yard down the bar, the bartender looks to Frank for confirmation. ]

Fletcher, give her a to-go cup. Please.

(He lays the please on there because he doesn't like giving orders. Fletcher hands Jess a mostly empty bottle.)

That better?

Screw you.

[ She intends it for Fletcher and Frank and everyone in the place. With so many targets it doesn't hit any of them. Jess snatches the bottle and starts to stumble out. ]

(Frank sniffs loudly and grabs his gun, passing it off to Speck. He gestures towards Jess with his chin and out they go.

He still won't put his hands on Jess, he knows better. Instead he opens the door to the back of the SUV and waves like Vanna White.)

Your chariot awaits. We're just gonna put you in the drunk tank for the night. But don't worry, I'll read to you like last time.

(That's not a promise, it's a threat.)

[ She gets the vague impression that he's enjoying this, which simply won't do. (Also, she can't remember last time. Not the night portion of it, at least.) ]

We'll see about that. [ The drunk tank part. Jess can't make any more distinct a threat, given she has no actual plan of recourse. She doesn't want to go home, and it's getting too cold to fall asleep outside, so a night at the station sounds fine. And she recalls mention of coffee. She'll just have to find a way to make it hell for him between now and then. Clambering into the SUV with an uneasy stomach, one occurs to her whether she likes it or not. ]

(Frank and Speck get in the front and it's a short ride to the station. Practically in the middle of town. You're always close to it.

Frank hops out and opens Jessica's door.)

You can follow me for coffee or you can take off running and I'll say I never saw ya.

[ It's a short ride and Jess is ready to be sick by the end of it. As soon as her boots hit the dirt, she's bent over and retching, with a hand on the open door to keep her upright.

She's lightheaded once she's done vomiting. In no shape to run anywhere. ]

Don't do me any favors. [ a swampy mutter as she heads for the station. ]

(Speck begins to comment that this is much easier than Frank made it out to sound, but Frank elbows him hard in the chest.

Once inside the station, Frank waves a hand at Jess and guides her to a small cell with a forcefield for a door. It's hard to tell there's anything there, as it's only a slight blur. Frank punches some numbers in, turns to look at Jessica, then turns back to put more numbers in. He's trying to be cute for her. He only does this when she's drunk. She puts him in his place.)

Go get a nap, Jones. (He gestures to the bench inside the cell.)

[ They don't try and take her booze, so she's reasonable in exchange. Once they pass the break area, she has misgivings about that. She wants that coffee, if only to get the taste of vomit out of her mouth. ]

You better be back in a minute with my damn coffee. [ She'd go and do it herself but she's been ambulatory for a good couple of minutes, in which every step's been a roll of the dice. The bench draws her like a meteor crashing to the Earth. ]

(Frank smiles at her like she's a rowdy little kid getting put to bed.)

Or what?

(He doesn't stay to hear her answer (unless she yells). He grabs two mugs of coffee and returns, punching the code in with a finger awkwardly, since his hands are full. He sits on the bench with her, at her feet.) Drink up, sober up.

[ By the time she thought of a suitable threat, he was gone. Jess rested her head to the cold cement wall and shut her eyes. Her body felt ready to fall asleep, and her mind was starting to slip into apathy about it. Then the scent of coffee hit her and she perked up.

She took the coffee from him and croaked, ] Slow night. [ Given he was taking a beat in the cell with her. ]

(He nods, blowing on his coffee before taking a small sip. It warms it's way through his throat and chest and he sighs happily.) Slow night. So thanks for acting up, that killed about an hour.

Go to hell. [ She's too wrung out to infuse her words with any vitriol, however much she means them at the moment. Her stare hangs on Frank, though her hatred is concentrated on an entity monumentally bigger than him. ] I'm not a fucking joke.

[ She is, but she doesn't need everyone reminding her of it. ]

No, you're not a joke. You've been through a lot. So have I. Just stay here tonight so that no one complains to the Capitol about Speck n' me.

(He sips his coffee, letting it burn it's way down his throat. It tastes terrible, but the company is nice.)

[ She sips her coffee, wincing as it sears her tongue. She's gone too long between swigs of cheap whiskey or it would still be numb.

Jess could go on and on about the Capitol. But these walls most certainly have ears and a dissident opinion will land crosshairs on both of them. She's already too familiar with Frank. If Trish gets too well liked to use as leverage against her, who's to say they wouldn't move onto him?

And if they wanted to hit them both, his partner is exactly their type of target. Speck is an idiot but that doesn't mean he deserves what they've lived through. ]

How old is his kid now?

Three, I think. (And then he just shakes his head. Another idiot thinking that the odds were in their favor. That it was safe to bring another part of you into the world.)

Nice of you to ask.

Shut up. [ He knows she didn't do it out of the kindness of her heart. Her turn to mentor is coming around again this year. Kids from Six rarely stand a chance, even with the sponsorship gifts that become mysteriously more abundant when Jessica Jones is in the Capitol. Their district lacks the resources to imbue them with skills that are both useful and unique, depriving them of the edge tributes from districts like Five and Seven have. At the same time, it's not so destitute that they have to cultivate resourcefulness themselves. ]

Lin's kid is twelve this year. She said she refused any tesserae. The odds...

(He doesn't finish, because no matter what, a lot of kids are going to die this year. He wonders if his kids would have had a better chance if Jessica Jones wasn't their mentor.)

[ She tries to prepare them. As horribly as it hurts, she always tries. Her sister has even given her tips on media coaching so they know what to say to Flickerman. It's more than they'd get from one of the morphling addicts but it's never enough. So what would be the point in telling anybody? Let the townies assume she's as useless as the rest of them. They're not wrong. ]

Are bullshit. [ Jess burns her tongue with more coffee. ] Trish stopped getting tesserae when she was fifteen. I had twice as many. [ Not that Miss Walker knew that. She wanted her daughter's name in the ball as much as it could be. Once Jessica joined the family, she took her share and her sister's, and they lied to their dear mother about the odds. And it changed absolutely nothing. ]

You said it.

(He sighs and looks down at this styrofoam cup, picking a little at the edge.)

You hungry? We got some instant oatmeal.

[ She's not, but it might help to have something in her stomach. As long as it stays there. If not, he only has himself to blame for offering. Or Speck can blame him. Whoever has to clean it up. ]

Sure.

(Frank clears his throat and stands up, trying not to grunt. Getting old is a privilege around here.

There's a small kitchenette in the station, and Frank mixes up some dried up flakes (that are supposed to be apple-cinnamon flavored) with some hot water. He moseys on back to the drunk tank, which he didn't even lock. He holds it out to Jess like he's scared of her (because he kind of is))

Don't throw this up on me.

[ As he goes, she notes that the door is all but left ajar. Somehow, it helps. Her shoulders slump against the corner and she catches a couple winks against the wall. Her senses have been drowned dull such that she becomes aware of his return a scant second or two before he speaks.

Her heavy-lidded eyes open and she takes the bowl with both hands, refusing to sit up. ]

No promises. [ She cradles it in her lap while it cools. ]

What happened, Jess? What made you get all belligerent and such tonight?

(Not as if she does this a lot. Victors have to cope somehow, and he doesn't blame her.

It's strange talking to her, knowing she was the last person to talk to his son and daughter. What are the odds that both your kids are reaped? Well, pretty good.)

[ The warmth seeps into her hands. It’s so pleasant, she wishes all her other senses would fade out and she could waste away in the moment. Frank calls her back to reality, her vision sharpening on the cement floor.

What did set her off? Oh yeah. ] Someone said some shit about Trish. [ She can’t remember exactly what. Something about how she would do Jessica’s job better. ] I’m so sick of everyone thinking they know everything. [ Here, in the Capitol. There’s nowhere for her to go where she isn’t told who she is. ] Nobody knows a goddamn thing.

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i need better icons of him ._.

her paid ran out just in time for me to relate

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