95th Sponsorship Appeal Night

"Do not attempt to bite me this time, Mr. Daniels."

"Get out of my face then."

Roe tolerates one more pass of the dreaded lint roller before he rejects such pampering and squirms out of Bellezze's bejewelled grasp.

She tuts, and the roll of her eyes makes her long, shimmery eyelashes quiver.

People are weird here.

"How about that one." Roe points out a Capitolite at random - a pot-bellied man with a rather impressive mustache surveying one of the shrimp platters.

"Mmm," Bellezze wrinkles her nose, "Polasis. I think not. Too sophisticated for your tastes, darling."

He's not sure if he should be offended by that.

"We need someone a little more…" She trails off, her wrist turning in quick circles as she tries to come up with something kinder than 'stupid', "... daring."

He's not sure if he should be offended by that, either.

Roe tries not to look too bored while Bellezze surveys the rest of the pickings. He's not quite thick enough to believe that he'll actually get sponsors. He's pretty, sure, Bellezze loves to point out his bone structure with that sharp gleam to her eye that suggests she's just a few steps away from carving it out of him for herself. But he's also got a nasty temper. He's not very nice. He's a coward, but he's cocky. It's that blustering sort of confidence that gets him nowhere but the end of an alley.

"There." Bellezze says suddenly, pointing a ridiculously long, ridiculously sharp nail, "Lady Aquilion. She's a weaponeer."

"Right, because I'm so good with a weapon." He's in enough of a sour mood, he doesn't need the reminder, "She's probably got her eye on the careers already."

"You did fine in the tournament, didn't you? Change that attitude." Bellezze is already reaching to fluff his hair again, her talons landing worryingly close to Roe's face, "Besides, there's rumours that she had her fingers in those riots in Nine. She'll like your spunk."

So that's what they're calling it now.

"And if that doesn't work," She pats Roe's cheek - "Use this."

Then she gives him a dainty shove, which does not make him stumble. He begrudgingly walks up to the woman she pointed out, dragging his feet the whole while.

The woman's tall, first of all. Very tall. Very imposing. Roe isn't exactly tiny, but he still has to crane his neck up a little to look up at her. The drink in her hand is pitch black, like tar.

Bellezze is watching from the other side of the room, her eyes wide as she smiles and starts vigorously pointing to her own face.

Roe tries it, feels the most strained grin start to form.

"Oh, look at you." Lady Aquilion coos.

"Hi." He starts, going over Bellezze's script in his head, forgetting most of it, winging the rest, "Heard you're into like, knives and shit."

Not his best line, not his worst either. Aquilion hums, a single thin brow raising, she looks Roe over in a way that makes him stand up a little straighter.

"And shit." She repeats, agreeable, a little like she's trying not to laugh. A little like he's some kind of jester she's being entertained by.

"Yeah, same." Roe says lamely. There's a row of sapphires on the lapel of her suit jacket that are distracting to look at, "Stabby things. Yeah." Shut up now, take the L. Or not - "I stabbed a guard with a fork on the way here."

It's appeasing now, the way her gaze settles. It's that teasing way in which a teacher praises a silly little stick drawing a child gives them. It's just left of patronizing.

"Did you? My, how resourceful."

Something jostles against his shoulder then, pushing him aside, and his head snaps to it, immediately ready to bear his teeth. Feral dog, quick to yank the leash; his jaw creaks as he takes in the man that's bumped into him.

Pot-bellied. Impressive moustache.

"Seraphina!" Polasis greets jauntily, stepping in and ignoring Roe entirely. His champagne flute is completely dwarfed by the size of his hand. "How long has it been?"

"Oh Rembrandt, ages." Aquilion trills back, looking synthetically delighted. She leans down to press a kiss to each side of his face and stays half-bent to accept the same.

"I was just talking to this cute little nugget here." She reaches to boop Roe's nose, which he immediately recoils from and glares at her for.

But she seems to find this funny, tittering into her glass as she takes a sip of her tar.

Polasis seem to try and look at Roe without really looking at him.

"Ah." He says, thumbing his mustache, "Yes, the Twelve."

The way he says it makes Roe rear. He's about to say something scathing, but Bellezze is still over there, now making a frantic swiping motion across her throat - don't. He chews on it, face twisting up. They've already moved on. Maybe it's just enough to imagine his head popping like a balloon.

"I was just speaking with Aeon, who had the most wonderful conversation with that Sacrifice girl - unfortunate name, but very eager to model his new hiking gear."

"Uh, hello-"

Aquilion seems mildly surprised - "The mirrored line? He's releasing it so early?"

And of course now Roe's been demoted to chopped liver. Of course it's the other tribute from One that does it. What's next - Arcadia's going to come out in a full length ball gown? Sweep the room off their feet? Give him a fucking break.

They keep taking between themselves, stupid little mundane things while Roe just stands there like an idiot. Stabby things. Stupid. Stupid little lower district, no wonder they breeze by him so easily. He fists his hands in the velvet of his pant leg to avoid the temptation of throwing something.

"The careers aren't all that great actually." He blurts out, terse.

They both turn to look at him.

"They're…" It might not be worth trying to pull that foot out of his mouth at this point, "...they're pretentious."

Wow. Big word. Ten points for that one, kid. Did you just come up with that? Or have you been sitting on it all night?

Polasis gives a hearty chortle, looking around for his audience, "Well, that's rather discriminatory, don't we think?"

He reaches out to pat his shoulder with one meaty hand, but Roe does a jerky sort of movement to dodge it.

"Don't worry about it too much, lad." It's almost sympathetic, the way he draws it out. "We certainly aren't eager to have another Xenia Montague on our hands, rest her soul."

That was District Eleven, you stupid fuck. Is what Roe doesn't say.

From across the room, Bellezze must see it in his face.

He's about to ruin the night again.