burnbook (tick & marik)

”No! They can’t take you!”

Shocked noise of a crowd. Indeterminate mumbling. The camera flips between the stage, the painfully-smiling escort, and the wide shot of Seven's square.

The recording rewinds.

”No! They can’t take you!”

The crowd noise again. The mumbling. The mics don't pick up anything concrete until the Keepers drag August Vance closer to the platform stairs, finally in range - "dare touch my leather jacket, Lu!"

Tick digs the pen out from the crevice of the couch and jots a note down anyways. The page open on his lap is a spiderweb of lines, of words circled, little question marks and mundane observations. Family? Girlfriend? August says something to her right before they force him away.

It would be nice to know. Helpful, certainly, in the long run. A pretty little pressure point, wrapped up and presented with a bow. Tick has a little sibling too, and how easy would it be to go up to August with a point of camaraderie already in the chamber. We're the same. So you definitely shouldn't kill me.

He jabs at the remote to go back. Maybe there's an angle he can try to lipread.

The door to the Twelve suite slides open. Tick glances over, and it's not Umber, so he makes no attempt to actually hide his notebook.

The kid may be relatively harmless, but that doesn't mean he needs to be privy to the scrutiny Tick's putting everyone under. He'd probably protest at what's written on his own page, things like annoying, and too trusting. Or the little marking in the top corner that had initially said just like Hugo before Tick furiously scribbled it out.

He's got a page on Marik, too. How could he not. Six kills despite being the underdog for half the Games.

He's been watching too. Tick's noticed. How could he not.

He taps the pen against the notebook, then points at the screen with it. The broadcast focuses on August with his arms around the girl.

"A sister, you think?"