our artificial taste of home [d6 suite . nessa & jimmy]

This was so dumb. Like, dumber than Julian in our Medicinal Literature class. He’d spend the entire class period just chucking pencils into the ceiling to stare at them until they fell back down. Half of the time, he’d forget about it until a pencil rained down to smoke him in the forehead. It’d typically leave a tiny scratch because they hadn’t been touched, like, at all. Fresh from the box, newly sharpened - those fuckers didn’t see a single scrap of paper in their life. Sometimes I wished dumbasses like him got reaped.

Following the mess of a morning game the training center offered, I quickly changed into the stupid fucking jumpsuit and booked it to the staircase. Where else was I to go, beside right back to the place I came from? District Six’s suite was a boring, eye-pained white. But I didn’t care. It’s… home, in a way. I know that place better than the rest of the options likely available to us. Where was Nessa? I figured she’d at least wait for me. But then again, she dropped out of the tournament. So she seems pretty happy on her fuckin' own.

I tried my best to climb the stairs swiftly. Through a mixture of adrenaline and worry, though, it was more of a stumble. These steps were a lot for these little legs. What happened to warm ups? We couldn’t have done like, yoga, or something before we had to start? Buttons would be a yoga girl, I know it. My legs had already felt a burn only two floors up, yet a quickly waned trust for whoever - whatever could be lurking behind every corner and corridor. I wanted to search every floor - see everything that the rich dicks in One had behind their doors. But if I wanted to find Nessa, it’d have to be in our suite.

The echo of shoes hitting stairs both above and below were enough inspiration to keep pace. ”Fuck you, Michael” I comment to myself, pissed and upset that he never took me running as much as he took me to hit some balls. What happened to complex routines? I know he’s taken at least one physical health class. HE should know better. But whatever, he can play with his balls all he wants. Lame.

Entering the room, I immediately turned to slam the door shut, but slowed down moments before. I can’t be loud. It’d reveal our location - and we’re far too obvious of a duo to do that. ”Nessa?” I whispered out into the living room, which was now filled with District 6 inspired memorabilia. In the center, laboratories and glass vials. It wasn’t what our home was. I’m shocked our rooms hadn’t been touched when we woke up. Were we down that long to offer the changes? Or were they always there, and our sleepy minds never realized? I moved through the rooms, hesitantly, following the path the new objects offered. In the back room, there was Nessa, stood looking up at a statue of Flynn. ”Jesus.” I comment, observing the stone intricacies. ”I hope whoever made those got paid.” These things were massive.

inspects the document closet
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[lab inventory, jimmy replies with a "boring" and tosses it to the side]