Obsess About It {Marcelline

for what it's worth, I always aim to please
but I nearly died

It was nice enough the shade, with the bustle of the market surrounding him. At least he had a reason to be there, this time, unlike the last trip he had made to the market. Vacation. What a ridiculous concept. And now that he had some coin in his pocket and the potential for more strung around his neck, Mace was quite pleased with himself. He had a whole slew of things they needed at the home - primarily foodstuffs, but also soap and a few other oddities - but he couldn't motivate himself to move out of the shade. Which turned out to be a good thing, because otherwise he might not have noticed her.

Sure, Mace had his eyes open for a mark, but he was always looking for pretty girls. And had he been standing, instead of seated on the edge of his cart, the hat would have obscured her face. But now that he thought about it, she did look a little familiar, which was odd, since she clearly wasn't from the northern community home. "How do I know you?" he whispered to himself, willing the rusty wheels of his memory to turn.

After a minute, though, he gave up. Pointless. He could figure it out much more quickly by growing a pair and approaching her. Mace hopped off the cart without an ounce of concern about its well being. If anyone stole it, he'd give them his own sort of penalty before turning them over to the Peacekeepers. Besides, he could just as easily build another, although that would mean sacrificing some wood for winter. It was more replaceable, in any case, than the opportunity to talk to this girl.

He shadowed her for a time, wondering what she was looking for. She seemed aimless. And who came to a market to dawdle? Except he had been, but only because he had something so valuable, so illegal on his person. Maybe she was looking for the same thing?

And with this in mind, Mace stepped smoothly into her path. "You seem like you could use some help." He grinned, all confidence and absolutely no brains.

for what it's worth, I always aim to please
but I nearly died

She actually blinked at him. Like the long slow fall of a feather off the side of the barn. He hadn't actually seen the expression performed quite so precisely, and it was a little alarming. Had he said something unintelligible? Been too subtle? Mace felt like he was missing something, and that was never a good feeling. Absently he brushed his collarbone, index finger tripping over the line at his neck.

Marcelline. It rang a bell. He was usually very handy with names, and even though he recognized it as familiar, he couldn't quite place it. But it nagged at him. "I'm Mace." And with that he folded his large, calloused hand over her delicate one, and gave a gentle squeeze, in his estimation, his thumb pressing into her light flesh. It surprised him, how soft it was. Mostly people in District Ten worked with their hands, with their bodies. To not work like that... well, she must be very wealthy.

"Just here to sell a few things," And it came off much more defensively than he had originally intended. Mace's nostrils flared as he regrouped. If he was going to sell his herbs, he needed to be a little more approachable. As he dropped her hand, he added, "And you know, just, hang out. What about you?" It seemed like a bit of a silly question - what did anyone do at a market? - but then he wasn't exactly there just to hawk cow meat either. So maybe it was fair.

And maybe she already knew what he had in stock. His dead eyes darted across her face, looking for some tell, some recognition.

for what it's worth, I always aim to please
but I nearly died

She was flighty, like the sparrows he often scared off from the line of his property. And like them, she had a certain delicate beauty. Long, slender bones, soft flesh, darting eyes. Mace wasn't the sort to usually feel someone out, but if he was ever going to unload the herbs, he had to be sure he was talking to the right person. Not that she looked like a Peacekeeper, even one in Ten. At the same time, there was something about her, a quality he couldn't quite name - mostly because fancy words, like the sort you'd use to describe emotions, were as foreign to him as the Capitol.

But he knew that if she had actually been a sparrow, he would definitely now be seeing the fanning of her tail as she took to flight. Definitely not a good mark then. He never liked the twitchy ones. But to have some money for himself, that was a big bounty. All the income he collected from the butcher went straight back to Ma, only to return the market the next week for necessities. He had only been able to spare a bit of money a few times, and had consistently proceeded to get himself very drunk. But now he had plans, oh yes ambitions, and they would require some coin.

At the moment, the herbs were the shortest path to purchasing his own farm. The irony of it tickled him; he could only sell something illegal to get ahead enough to do something perfectly within the bounds and expectations of society. That was life. Trouble was, he actually needed to get them sold to make his dream into a reality.

Something extraordinary. Had she meant what he thought she did? Mace dared to hope. He crossed his arms over his chest, and jutted his chin out, in the direction of the houses beyond one edge of the market. "Maybe you'd like to go for a walk - get away from the crowd for a bit?" And away from the Peacekeepers, he added mentally.

for what it's worth, I always aim to please
but I nearly died

The beauty of the houses near the market wasn't lost on Mace, but he tried not to think too hard about it either. The fact that they had time and strength to grow flowers, that their windows were clean as mirrors, that everything was white and pristine. Oh how he hated them, resented his poverty. Being among them only made it worse, only made him more determined to start his own farm with easy animals, like pigs. But to buy a pig - that was a pricey endeavor. About as pricey as many of the fences in this particular part of the district.

Mace mentally bit his tongue as he walked, face turned slightly away from the piercing sunlight. He didn't talk, which was his way. He neither thought it rude or impractical. He didn't have anything to say, so why fill up the air? But when she started with a neutral, albeit strange, question, he knew it would be better to have something to do with their mouths, something to distract him from all the surrounding beauty.

He stared at her as they walked. "Eighteen, just. Why?" He asked, defenses coming to the rescue when they weren't needed. "I mean, you?" That was a little better, although he knew it missed the mark of perfect. "I didn't go to school here if that's what you're wonderin'."

for what it's worth, I always aim to please
but I nearly died

He was suddenly aware that he had no idea what to do with his hands. Always in the market he had something, usually the handles of the cart he had built. If not, then perhaps a sack of chickens, or a bit of whatever roots his siblings had coaxed out of the unwilling garden. He did his best not to bring his cattle prod and whip to the market, but sometimes he honestly forgot, and others... well, sometimes even Mace needed a little bit of insurance. Today, though, all he had was the leather pouch around his neck. He wanted desperately to clutch at it, to hold onto something solid and familiar. Mace's life depended on his hands, working them, filling them. To have them empty made him feel vulnerable.

And he was, in this fancy part of town with a girl he didn't know. It would be clear to anyone that he didn't belong. But she? She seemed like she did. He couldn't say she was exactly at ease; there was still that sparrow-like quality to her. Instead it seemed a little more like she knew where she was going, each step following the last without much consideration of her surroundings. Some people were like that though, Mace was starting to realize. They didn't constantly watch their backs for cattle horns, nor their fronts for wayward kicks, as he did.

Sixteen. That'd do. "Nah, ain't prying. I was taught at the community home at north, where I grew up." He explained, a slant to his eyes as he looked down at her. He managed a mockery of a smile. "Wasn't the best education around but it did just fine. I work on the farm there now." Mace found himself wanting to volunteer a bit more information to this curious, blinking girl. Nothing too revealing, of course, but just a little. He had absolutely no idea how he sounded to her, as all the people he knew spoke exactly like he did, and his ear wasn't well enough tuned to her the differences in her speech patterns.

"You went to school here, in the city?" He asked, using the term 'city' rather broadly. At least it was the center of life in their district, that would have to be close enough.

for what it's worth, I always aim to please
but I nearly died

It was cooler in this part of the district. There was a breeze, even if it just brought more sticky wind, at least it took some of the sweat with it. His body was slowly adjusting to not being under the cart's weight. He wasn't quite so slick with moisture any more. Still not up to any standard of cleanliness, but considerably improved. He felt it, too, more than just the way his skin met the air. It was invigorating to finally have some relief from the endless work and toll on his body. There could be no doubt that so much heavy lifting would inevitably lead to injury, possibly even to death. But until he had the money for his own farm, what choice did he have?

And it was more than that. Mace loved the dumb beasts he worked with, loved herding them and roughing up his hands. He wouldn't know what to do with himself if that was taken away, which is why he had fought so hard to stay at the home after his eighteenth birthday. Still, there were times when a cool breeze was all he wanted in the entire world. And here it was, hiding in the expensive part of town, mocking him.

He barely noticed as her face shifted, the subtleties of women's expressions were lost on him. Besides, it was a little awkward to look down at her as they walked side by side. "Yeah, I mean, I guess." He brought them to a stop alongside the white picket fences, this particular one half covered with ivy. Mace leaned against the pretty, but fairly insubstantial, wood, rather hoping that some of the sweat and dirt of the day would mar the pure white. That would give him something - not power, exactly, and not vengeance either. But it would be satisfying in a way few things were. "I didn't ever learn any other way. I always thought being stuck in some classroom with kids I didn't know would blow."

It took him a moment, but at least it eventually dawned on Mace that perhaps that hadn't been the best thing to say. He folded his arms beneath his chest and shrugged. "But maybe you could tell me what it was really like?" He turned his dead eyes to her own, catching her gaze for the first time. But she seemed wholly uninterested in talking about school, which was good by him, because he could hardly remember anything he had learned in the hours dedicated to math and writing. He'd never be able to throw together a readable letter. Did it matter? No.

Mace's brow furrowed a bit at her next question. "I herd cattle, sometimes help out with the pigs. We've got one of the bigger farms cuz there's so many of us to help out with it. But I wrangle cows, mostly." And it was clear there was nothing remotely glorious about it. He weighed her a moment longer, and then leaned forward every so slightly, as if to see her better. "You don't work on a farm?" Not that it seemed entirely likely, given her soft skin and pallor. But still. Almost everyone in Ten did in some way, even if they were the ones churning the milk into butter.