letter to an old poet >> nixie&enzo

l o r e n z o    e m b e r s t a t t .

Oh shit, he thinks to himself, I'm fuckin' drunk! 

The origin story of many a good times, Lorenzo has recently turned twenty-seven and he's still at the point of not refusing a free drink. And it happens every time he travels, at this point he's getting concerned it's some kind of ponzai scheme. Like, come to our district, pound our Margaritas, make bad decisions! It's almost targeted, as if they know he'll fall for it every time, and, of course, he does. How can he say no? This Margarita tastes like a perfect summer day by the beach, a little salt on the rim, he doesn't know how District 4 manages to do it. If he lived here, he'd probably get sick and tired of the nautics, but the Ocean encompasses everything there is to do when you're a tourist and he's a sucker for it every time he returns. 

It calls to him, in a weird way. He spent a summer once out on the boats, a wanderlust fisherman on his own adventures, and he isn't too far removed from it now. Lorenzo was shipped out from 10 this go 'round to attend some counsel on the big industry changes - seemed silly to him, Districts 4 & 10 seemed the least affected of anyone - but he'd never say no to a free vacation, either. In fact, there's very little free things that he would turn down, as a result of growing up a dirt poor child. Even as an Emberstatt, he's held onto that habit. 

Now, the counsel itself was rather uneventful, but he had met a few new folk that were enamored with meeting an Emberstatt. That's how it always starts, he'll lay on the country twang a little thicker and throw in a few more "howdy"s and "y'all"s just to see where it gets him. Somehow that led him to getting brought onto a yacht party, something he'd never done before and something he absolutely needed to do before he went back home. 

I mean, it's a fucking yacht party, that's something you only see on Capitolite reality television shows. 

Rest in peace Young Love in Panem, right? 

So Lorenzo had boarded at around eleven a.m. and hung around far too long, taking in all the accoutrements that he could along the way. The sun was beginning to set now and he had no intentions of staying the whole night; however (a strong however here, too), he's said that before and found himself dancing until he was sore at six a.m. anyways. The party controls him and not the other way around as he takes up pounding jello shots with some surfer bro career trainer he had forgotten the name of before they ever started getting wasted together. 

"Bro, is that- no way, how long has Nixie been here?!"

"Wait, Nixie? Where's she at?" Lorenzo says, slurred, in between a green and blue jello shots; side note, why is the green flavor of anything always the worst? It's supposed to be apple, people, why is it always fucking lime? 

"She just popped in and out from the Captain's cabin, must be VIP or something."

Oh yes, V.I.P. That's where the real celebs go, unlike Lorenzo and surfer-bro, the pseudo-socialites slurping tiny jello cubes on the deck of the yacht. Lorenzo might have enough clout to put him a cut above irrelevancy, but he wants to be where the VIPs are, and she might just be his ticket in there. They weren't friends, hardly even acquaintances, but in a strange way all the survivors of the Games knew one another. A shred of respect, in this moment, he wears his resurrection trauma like a sexy, slutty outfit. Something to be noticed for, and something to be stripped of. 

"Well, it's been great chattin'. Thanks for the drinks, partner, but I've got another rodeo to attend to," what the fuck is coming out of his mouth? Ah, whatever, this idiot's eating it up anyways. 

"No way, you know she's like, mad anti-social right? Nixie's not wasting her time with you."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it," he blurts out before swiping a random jello shot off the tray. Green again, just his luck. Besides just using her for clout, it would be nice to reunite with Miss Summers again, he hadn't seen her in a few years and those District 4 victors just had a way of catching his eye. Lorenzo practically jogs over, tossing the tiny plastic cup away before slipping into the lower deck hallway, catching Nixie on her phone before she re-enters the Captain's Quarters. 

Well... what now? 

"Howdy," Lorenzo pipes up, trying not to sneak up on her. They hated that - 'they' being figures of the public, people who are thrust into the role without any choice in the matter. "I thought I heard you were here," he says as the alcohol floats to his brain some more, "what brings you on board, Miss Summers?"