Into The Night [Anatra]

Boredom strikes once more upon the front lines of District Two. Calamity, to think that people with such pride could be so uninterested. The fact of it all was that work didn't happen as much as it needed to here. Some families were so well off that they didn't need to have working children. The Orca family however are no better off than the average few. Tyren specifically goes to work because of the atmosphere. The scent of labor and the compelling danger of perhaps striking at your thumb instead of the nail. Horror. Absolute calamity.

Truthfully though, there was little real work to do in the District. A lot of the construction work was manual, but it was simple and the only requirement was a bit of muscle and a couple of brain cells. The rest was either done by machines or so many people that it was seamless.

Upon a second floor mid-construct building, layered with the white foundations and black pipe linings that one would expect in a building site, stood - or worked as they called it - three men. Tyren was one of them, his non-identical twin brother Alex and what seemed to be the instructor that would direct them to work. This however looked more like a debriefing because Tyren was holding a non-transparent bag, which was actually filled with spare clothes to replace the high-visibility vest and t-shirt he was wearing. The construction gear was particularly ruinous and had a tendency not to be altogether fantastically hygienic, but the men didn't mind. They were men, or boys.

He went slowly into the changing room where he was alone and changed into his casual gear which was just a different t-shirt, a dim grey this time, with black chinos. He had a necklace underneath the rest but whatever personality it possessed wasn't actually visible. Probably something symbolic or deeply meaningful to be revealed later on at a dramatic moment. Probably.

A quick glance in the mirror, something those in District One would never understand the concept of 'a quick glance'. If they did, it would be ridiculously exaggerated to the point of 'a quick lifetime'. His hair seemed freshly cut, as if it were only yesterday. The sides were short, as was the back. The top consisted of a thicker makeup of the same dark brown hair that was so dark it may well be black. His face had a little dirt on it but the quick glance didn't let him see it. It was just on the part where his jawbone stops on his left side. His arms were exposed, and it was obvious that he only washed his hands as there was a little construction paste on his left side. Perhaps he just has it all on his left side, he'll never known after that quick glance.

That glance wasn't the only quick thing - he was out and ready to go within a few minutes. He walked on out into the cold open air and the normal scent contained a dread mixture of cut stone and typical evening. He had his bag containing his work clothes in his left hand and in his right he was counting some coins that were soon to be put to use in the new bar he was going to try out. Maybe he will even look convincingly old enough - last time he didn't have the stubble.

After walking to the door, he inevitably gained entry and his feet lead him to the bar. His eyes were led to have yet another quick glance somewhere. This time it was at a girl playing Pool at one side of the bar, a little distance away. Quick is definitely not Distirct-One-Style exaggerated here as he dares not to take any risks. A quick nod at the barkeep and a response to the usual "What you havin' then?" Tyren replies with - "Just a bottle." He says, seemingly optimistic as he gives a nod at the fridge fully of some branded beer bottle. Of course, the Panem symbol was painted all over it like some page three Avox. It was cracked open behind the bar and handed over as the exchange of the seemingly available currency proceeded.

He takes a deep drink of it, washing away the day. Shame he couldn't have washed that dab of dirt on his face, or the construction paste on his arm. Thankfully, the only person nearby was the girl to his right. He only just noticed her then. A quick glance later, and gives a similar nod as earlier to her. "What're you havin' then?" His accent seems to be a squashing of Capitol and District, making what you would expect a poor Capitolite to sound like. That was essentially what District Two were anyway. Poor, oh poor Capitolites.

There was a strangeness to the way Tyren seen this girl. She was a girl. His eyes were relaxed, maybe even as far as tired. His arms were resting on the counter and he was leaning forward upon it before a sudden finger makes its way to the dirt on his face. He raises a brow that seems to take displeasure in external touch. His smile breaks the displeasure though as he realizes that he doesn't need to defend himself. A nature reaction, no less.

"Right, well I've just been at work." He replies to her earlier “Just there.” comment. He roughly rummaged through the dirt until it was gone, which only took a moment. His face was full of thought. He wasn't at all familiar with this kind of conversation. Usually, a girl would sit and talk about their favorite drink, or say something impressive, leading him now to think about what she wants. Usually a girl doesn't go out to a bar for no reason, but then again everybody works so there is always a reason in the district.

"Guess they care more about money than age here, huh?” She says it, implying that Tyren isn't old enough. This would be the part where he wonders who they are. "You've only just figured that one out, haven't you?" He pauses, the smile reappearing. "They send a good ship-full of children off to die each year - and you've just realized they have no morals." He chuckles a bit as he takes another drink from his beer bottle. He seems to drink it well, accustom to the bitterness. The light from the fridges flare out at the pair, making most other things look dark.

"Do you have morals?" The question echoed from past conversations. Memories seeped into fruition as he remembers what was previously asked. It was during school, and he had been threatened with segregation after being involved in a fight. The teacher, surprisingly, didn't seem all too loyal to the Capitol. He was set on having Tyren thrown out of the school simply for fighting somebody who was speaking negatively against the Capitol. Tyren doesn't know where his loyalty for the state comes from - nor will he, really. Of course it is because of his parents, both ex-Capitolites whom volunteered to stoop into the districts, but there are likely other factors. Also recently, he found himself in a conflict with a man called Mark Anthony. Mark decided it was a good idea to lure Tyren into the woods and have them hunt together. That was all well and good, Tyren was actually enjoying breaking the rules for once. Suddenly they got caught sneaking back in, a peacekeeper with a gun pointed right at them. Mark took the blame, apparently, but the next minute was a blur. Somehow Mark had the gun and the peacekeeper was being aimed at, whilst on the floor. So Tyren drew an arrow and aimed right for Anthony's head. Didn't shoot.

"Yes, I'd like to think so." He pauses. "But I wouldn't daresay-" He takes a required sip of his beer, quickly. "-that I have the best." A stray place-mat is on the bar counter and it finds its way into Tyren's left hand, beer in the right. He isn't sure why he is even holding it, maybe he's nervous. Or bored, could be either. Maybe both. Or maybe he's not. There's a lot of indecision about him. People may look at him and see an unassuming worker who would live a worker, die a worker. But those who talk to him, mostly about the Games, would see that he works, trains and lives the Capitol loyalty that he so stands by. During the day, he is training for the Games. During the night, he is working for after the Games. During anything in-between, he is thinking about the Games. As much as he likes to talk about the Games, he knows for definite that anybody who is anybody will not want to talk about it in the bar. He saves that conversation for the training center.

"Oh, and my name's Tyren Orca, you may know my brother Alex." She doesn't. He knows she doesn't, nobody really knows the Orca twins. The only chance of anybody knowing both is if they've talked to them at the training center or somehow, miraculously, there's a quell where both tributes are male, and it just so happens to be the two of them. Now that would be a formidable fight. Tyren and Alex both use the bow, they'd be unstoppable careers.

He lets the conversation hang for a moment; "Well, I doubt it. If you didn't know me you won't know him." He rolls his eyes to himself, thinking how silly it was to say that. He does this; says things that he doesn't actually intend. It is spur of the moment, and he can't really help it. Speaking before thinking wasn't his strong point but conversation demands it of him.

"So, decided what you're having?"