string along || quentin / ulysses

U L Y S S E S.

And I thought the Peacekeepers of District Eleven, who think hell is coming over at so much as a citizen's sneeze, were uptight. No way. The trainers in the Center are on a whole other level. Most of the survival stations have gentle members, which makes sense. It's easier to be kind when teaching someone how to survive than teaching them how to kill.

One of the trainers is looking around every corner of the center for… something? He has a flustered look on his way, examining each tribute as he crosses past them. I hear him mumble something about a stopwatch. "It's my mother's… it's a family heirloom." Why someone from the Capitol would have a family heirloom to keep time, let alone bring it to a room full of people who couldn't care less about precious luxuries, is beyond me. I sit on a stool, spinning a toothpick between my thumb and index finger as the trainer lifts the tray of axes to see if he misplaced it somewhere.

The man shoots me a glare as he walks by. There are twenty-four obvious suspects here, plus the dozens of avoxes and other trainers passing through. His shoulders broaden and his legs widen as he approaches. "Shouldn't you be training, Eleven?" I move the toothpick to my mouth, delicately stroking it past the bottom row of my teeth.

"I'm taking a break."

"Do you get breaks in the arena?"

I shrug. "What business is it of yours? If you want to time my break, you can use that stopwatch you- oh wait." He huffs at the mention.

"What would you know about my watch, kid?" He takes a scan of the space around me, looking for whatever shiny material his stopwatch is made of. The issue is that I don't have it. But it's just so amusing to watch him struggle.

"You've been grouching around about it for… like… five minutes."

After realizing I'm not his culprit, the trainer huffs again. As he turns, I leap up to follow him. "I can help you look, though! Whoever took it would probably lie to your face when you ask them." I'd know, as I've done it many a time to the adults in Eleven. Stunned, he agrees to let me accompany him. If he wants me to train, I can just train my social and gaslighting skills… on him! Because I highly doubt any of us tributes actually took it. He probably just misplaced it, careless fuckers the Capitol are!

He points out our first suspect: a Six on their name. I step in front of the trainer and call out to the boy. "Hey! Mr. Trainer here is looking for his stopwatch. It's about yea big, yea wide… you see it anywhere?" I pull out a wink at the end, offering them the chance to join in on the fun if they wish to.