As I Whisper In Your Ear // [Glamour+Poria]
Jun 18, 2015 16:05:03 GMT -5
Post by Gamemaker Lauren Kinkade on Jun 18, 2015 16:05:03 GMT -5
Glamour Kinkade
your compliments look good on me
Normally, Glamour would have paid no mind to the current Games. Of course he would have attended the mandatory viewing luncheons, made small talk with his fellow Gamemakers about the current crop, and then steered them to more important topics, like the latest gossip. If he wasn't one of the Head Gamemakers, there really wasn't any point. He hadn't even been asked to advise for the Quell Games, other than signing off on the authorization to use one of his muttations. The lack of attention he'd been paid sat sourly in his stomach. He barely ate any of his strawberry and kale salad while the Bloodbath played out.
He did his best to suppress a gleeful laugh when it was announced that the 70th Games had already won a distinction: the last amount of deaths in the Bloodbath in living memory. His best ended up being a half-swallowed cackle as he stood. He took the scenic root out of the luncheon, sweeping by the Head Gamemaker table. "Well that was something, wasn't it?" He asked Warren Whip, all pink cheeks and pinched smile. "Congratulations."
Back in his office, Glamour sorted through his correspondence. He hadn't quite perfected his weekly letter to President Snow, requesting an audience to discuss future Games. He had summoned one of his lackeys, seeing no harm in a glass of champagne before dinner. When it arrived, it came with a note. Glamour lifted an glittered eyebrow at his youngest intern. He had barely finished scanning it when he demanded his car be brought around. In the limo with his intern and two plainsclothes Peacekeepers, he flipped to the latest news.
It was mostly about the traditional Day One scattering. As the coverage transitioned into the various funerals, Glamour almost lost his nerve. He tipped his flute at his intern. "You better have been right."
It was almost as if Caesar Flickerman heard him. Right on cue, an information box popped up with each tribute's inventory. And even though he never actually saw it, there it was listed amongst Nat Krigel's items: Glamour plushie.
There could only be one person to blame for this insult, only one person who dared to sell such a tawdry item. Glamour refilled his flute with the champagne that was always stocked in the car, and then stepped out of the limo and onto Style Street. He took his time, dawdling at other shops, making sure he was seen enjoying himself. He laughed at his plainsclothes, pretending like they mattered more than their function as bodyguards.
When he stepped into Poria Rain's shop, he was laughing shrilly until the door shut. One plainsclothes inside, one outside. He cut the laugh sharply, lips pressing into a thin line. He tapped the side of the glass with a sharpened nail as he slowly stalked down the main aisle to the checkout counter. "How's business, Miss Rain? Booming?" He paused, flicking the head of a Dom Copperview bauble head. It was impressive, if only because it relayed more emotion than the person who inspired it. "I wonder if you couldn't stand to have a little less inventory. It's quite crowded in here."
He stopped when his hips hit the counter. With more grace than he'd managed all morning, he set his champagne flute down. "I've come to negotiate a rather large purchase."
He did his best to suppress a gleeful laugh when it was announced that the 70th Games had already won a distinction: the last amount of deaths in the Bloodbath in living memory. His best ended up being a half-swallowed cackle as he stood. He took the scenic root out of the luncheon, sweeping by the Head Gamemaker table. "Well that was something, wasn't it?" He asked Warren Whip, all pink cheeks and pinched smile. "Congratulations."
Back in his office, Glamour sorted through his correspondence. He hadn't quite perfected his weekly letter to President Snow, requesting an audience to discuss future Games. He had summoned one of his lackeys, seeing no harm in a glass of champagne before dinner. When it arrived, it came with a note. Glamour lifted an glittered eyebrow at his youngest intern. He had barely finished scanning it when he demanded his car be brought around. In the limo with his intern and two plainsclothes Peacekeepers, he flipped to the latest news.
It was mostly about the traditional Day One scattering. As the coverage transitioned into the various funerals, Glamour almost lost his nerve. He tipped his flute at his intern. "You better have been right."
It was almost as if Caesar Flickerman heard him. Right on cue, an information box popped up with each tribute's inventory. And even though he never actually saw it, there it was listed amongst Nat Krigel's items: Glamour plushie.
There could only be one person to blame for this insult, only one person who dared to sell such a tawdry item. Glamour refilled his flute with the champagne that was always stocked in the car, and then stepped out of the limo and onto Style Street. He took his time, dawdling at other shops, making sure he was seen enjoying himself. He laughed at his plainsclothes, pretending like they mattered more than their function as bodyguards.
When he stepped into Poria Rain's shop, he was laughing shrilly until the door shut. One plainsclothes inside, one outside. He cut the laugh sharply, lips pressing into a thin line. He tapped the side of the glass with a sharpened nail as he slowly stalked down the main aisle to the checkout counter. "How's business, Miss Rain? Booming?" He paused, flicking the head of a Dom Copperview bauble head. It was impressive, if only because it relayed more emotion than the person who inspired it. "I wonder if you couldn't stand to have a little less inventory. It's quite crowded in here."
He stopped when his hips hit the counter. With more grace than he'd managed all morning, he set his champagne flute down. "I've come to negotiate a rather large purchase."
