Out Loud // [Fitz +Cadence]

On one rare, sunny day off, Fitz realized it was probably in everyone’s best interest if he invested in some new essentials. He was loathe to leave his comfortable perch in the far corner of the Capitol, running the Avox Pits. Normally even when he had accrued enough vacation hours to take leave, he invested the time in a staycation, lounging around with the less dangerous fighters, eating in the mess hall, reading by the washing pond. In short, he spent his free time like he did his work time.

The only thing the pit didn’t provide was fresh clothes and a varied diet. Once a quarter or so, he would venture into the center of the Capitol. He couldn’t have picked a better day. The sun was full in a blue sky, the breeze cool and caressing. He’d let down his mane of hair from the required top knot. It crawled over the shoulders of his black nylon jacket, got tangled around the color of his pale plaid shirt. His clothing didn’t identify him; not even the boxy body beneath would have given any clear hint. He was too tall, too lanky, and much too relaxed to be a Peacekeeper.

For today, he indulged in the disguise of a regular citizen. He just had to be careful not to dally too long in the costume, lest he forget himself. As he turned down the style street, he ends of his fingertips came to life with adrenaline. They pulsed, itched, yearned. He had time. He could stop for a moment, just a small little investment; no one would have to know. His breaths came more quickly, heartbeat in his throat as he paused at the blinking betting board.

Only twelve tributes left.

He licked his lower lip and stepped forward, into a tea shop. It wasn’t a place he would ever have considered frequenting, if not for the immediate distraction it presented. He scanned the tables, looking for a familiar face. He came up empty. He knew that if he turned back to the street, his resolve would fail. So lacking a friend, he chose a distraction.

“Excuse me. Is this seat taken, Ms. Fortissimo?” He asked, his voice as smooth as the polite words. Lucky for him, Cadence was the epitome of practical; he would have recognized her trim appearance anywhere. With her leave, he seated himself, one ankle coming on top of the opposite knee. He studied her, just for a moment, before extending his hand. "Innocent FitzTucker, Peacekeeper of the Pits. My friends call me Fitz."