Ɣ [muffin]

Times long ago, Kit would be recognized in a place like this. While it certainly wasn't one of the lower end bars that he tended to frequent, it wasn't fantastic, and places with regulars and smoky rooms were all too familiar for the young Keeper. Back in the day. Stepping through the door, his name would be called with a few cheers and shouts. A drink would be poured quickly, ready for him to down just as fast. Just like that.

He was a different person back then: the type of person that found comfort in forgetting exactly what he had to deal with in life; the type of person that ignored responsibility in favour of delving into the darker delicacies before him. The alcohol and the drugs and the women were but a few things that he went through without a single thought, never stopping nor caring.

It felt irregular for him to walk into the bar on this evening, a goal in mind that wasn't to drink all of his thoughts and worries away. His goal was to meet with the man who had occupied his thoughts quite a bit over the past couple of weeks. There was something about him that kept Kit's thoughts occupied at all times, always going back to him with everything he did. A bond had formed, without a doubt, through what they had gone through. That man died. There was nothing we could do. No matter how hard we tried, that man was going to die.

And yet when he walked through those doors and found the face of Mohs Aurum, he felt a smile come to his face. You made it, kid. You made it out of there alive. The Detention Center was tough for just about everybody; the pain people experienced in there was far too much and Kit was completely aware of it. He knew the job he did wasn't typically good, but he did it nonetheless. I want to be the change. I want to be the difference. And yet Mohs was here, looking as strong as he always had.

Kit's hand went out to meet the young man's, grasping it firmly while his other hand clasped onto Mohs' shoulder. A smile of pearly whites crossed his face, bright eyes looking back towards Mohs. "What are you doing here?" It was a simple question and yet Kit had no proper answer for it. At the end of the day, Kit hadn't the slightest clue for why he had come to this bar to find the young citizen of One. Something had seemed to call to him the moment he heard Mohs' name called during the Reaping. Something had sparked inside of him. It was care, and I'm not sure why.

"I'm here for a drink, firstly." While he had always avoided drinking so as to not fall back into old habits, that had begun to fade as the days had gone by. He could feel old parts of himself coming back, though he did nothing to stop it. He didn't particularly care, and that hadn't begun to worry him. Not yet, it won't. "And I'm here to see you, Mohs." Yeah. That's suitable. That's okay.

His feet carried him to the bar where Mohs had been sitting, his hand raising slightly for the bartender to come his way. There was a look in the man's eyes that confirmed he knew Kit's job - do I really look that much like a Keeper? - but he moved forth nonetheless. "Something hard, aye?" He offered a grin, and the bartender nodded in return, giving forth a glass of a dark amber liquid. Kit brought it to his lips, downing the little bit rapidly before placing the glass back on the bar and looking to the bar keep for another.

The next one came his way, though he turned his attention back to Mohs. The Keeper's friend looked so incredibly worn, with dark bruises, uncut facial hair and messy clothing to complete the image. "Jeeze, Mohs. You look like shit." He cared. Far more than he likely should have cared considering that Mohs had been a punished criminal and Kit was a respectable detective. And yet here he was feeling something in the pit of his stomach that he hadn't felt in years.

And yet he also felt fear. Fear for what happened to the ones he typically cared for. Fear for the ones who cared for him. Death is all that welcomes them.

With a calm expression on his face, he spoke once more to his unlikely friend. "I needed to see you. But not while you're looking like this. What the hell is wrong?"

Roles being reversed was always an interesting thing to see in life. For Kit, he was the one that was used to breaking down due to a build up of fear and despair, something that was particularly common during his darkest days. He could remember doing nothing but sitting in bed, staring at nothing in particular until he had to leave it to go to work. His fingers would move about the wires he was set to work on but his brain would be elsewhere as he thought of how agonizing his life had become. Without his family, without Emi, his whole life had begun to feel hopeless.

And so he grew mad at the higher ups in the District, believing that there was some massive ploy to ruin his life for all the things he had done when he was younger. And yet he fell back into those ways effortlessly, not caring about the judgement of the few around him that still stood alive. He grew paranoid, believing that somebody must have been out to get him as nobody's luck could be that horrendously bad. There was a conspiracy of some sort that filled his thoughts every second of every day. Kit Gresham hated the world for what it had done to him and needed to find somebody to blame besides himself.

Now he sat in the worn bar with the only friend he had left, everybody else having long passed or long given up on the bipolar attitude of the young detective. Mohs had grown just as paranoid, though he had plenty of reason to do so. Kit was not aware of any additional odds for those that were arrested, though he was well aware that there had been numerous detainees reaped during their sentence. It couldn't be mere coincidence, and Mohs was no stranger to the theory. And yet Kit felt nothing but pain to see his friend so emotionally unraveled as he spoke. "I think the capitol wanted me gone."

That in itself was a whole different story. If the Capitol wanted Mohs gone, he would be gone. There wasn't much difficulty in eliminating somebody. All they'd have to do is send somebody like Kit to arrest them, then they would have a more vicious Keeper deal with them behind closed doors. And yet it wasn't completely out of the realm of possibility that they had plans for the young man. Too bad your plans were foiled. Luckily for Mohs, and for Kit in that same regard, a hero came from the crowd to volunteer. Whilst it wasn't an abnormal occurrence for District One, it was certainly a breath of fresh air that Mohs was safe - for now.

"I feel so responsible for him, and there is nothing I can fucking do." And at the end of the day, Mohs was entirely right. There was nothing he could do to make anything better for the family. There was nothing he could do to help the young man that had volunteered in his place. But at the end of the day as well, there was nothing he had to do. It was the choice of the young man to step forward for him, or the choice of some higher power. Mohs had no responsibility, even if he felt like he did. There was nothing he could have done to stop him. There was no point in worrying about it.

There was such fear and emotional derailing present in the eyes of the young man that Kit could feel it pulling at his heart strings. Kit had no explanation for the way he felt for the legless boy he had arrested not long ago. He couldn't explain why he felt as if he needed to watch out for him. He had no reasoning behind staying in District One for such an extended period of time beyond wanting to be closer in case anything happened. Mohs, for whatever reason, had grown on the Keeper. "Sorry- it isn't what you want to hear from me, I know." And yet he was wrong. What Kit wanted to hear was that Mohs was alive; that was exactly what he was hearing. Whilst there was much to fear, surely, everything was okay in this moment and that was all that mattered to the man.

"Alright, listen up because I'm not particularly into giving too many pep talks today. It's my day off." Kit had a soft smile upon his face in an attempt to soothe Mohs' nerves, bringing him down to a level that was far more appropriate for their locale and for the conversation. Mohs had nothing to fear with Kit by his side. "There is nothing you can do to change how things have transpired, Mohs. It's not your responsibility to watch out for all the young men in District One and protect them should they step up to help you." He finished his sentence and downed what was in his drink, though the bartender was at the opposite end of the room to avoid the tension that was surely rising. Their conversation wasn't exactly heated, but there was certainly a stressful tone to it.

"That young man stepped forward on his own accord, and you have no reason to feel guilty for that. No matter what happens to him, you are not responsible. He made his decision." Kit was looking straight at Mohs now, hoping that his message was getting across. There was nothing that any of them could do now for the new tribute. He had made his bed, it was time for him to sleep in it. While it was a wonderful thing he did in protecting Mohs, it was nothing Mohs needed worry about. "And as for the Capitol, I can assure you that you need not worry on that front." Kit chuckled quietly, reaching into his suit jacket and pulling out the Capitol-issued badge. "I mean, I don't want to alarm you but I am a Keeper. Chances are anything concerning you will come across my desk. Nobody will put a damn finger on you if I can help it." He returned the badge back to his jacket, his fingers brushing against the side arm that was also inside in a holster. Would I use this to protect him? It was an interesting question that should be difficult, and yet one word seemed to resonate within him. Yes.

"You're under my care now, Mohs. Like it or not, you're stuck with me. Not a single Keeper in this District will be able to go near you without knowing that I'm right behind you. I don't particularly care what anybody thinks; I'm not letting an innocent man take the fall ever again. Especially if that innocent man is you."