out late// [Lance]

CALEM DUNBAR

He'd left the house well before high noon.

He'd known the Bloodbath was that day, and had braced himself for another day of his father, glued to the TV set and spouting profanities until long after the bloody maelstrom had passed. It was a longtime habit of the elder Dunbar, and a mixed blessing at that. On the one hand, his attention was drawn completely from the younger for days at a time, a luxury that the latter rarely experienced nowadays. On the other, it became virtually impossible to get a wink of sleep or even the tiniest bit of relaxation during the day, between the too-loud blare of the TV and the too-loud shouting of his father reacting to whatever bloodshed was taking place that day.

But this year was worse, no thanks to the male representative from his own district.

The boy had quickly became a favorite of his father, in no part due to his seemingly unwavering devotion to Ripred and his local roots. He'd developed a strong resentment for the Todd boy, a total stranger, as he found himself being compared to him with every other sentence that emerged from his dear old dad's mouth.

That dislike had only heightened as the day that the actual Games began drew nearer, as the Todd boy had managed an eight in his private training and only furthered his father's admiration of him.

Then, that morning, the boy himself had fought like a fully trained Career in the Bloodbath, sinking knives into targets with deadly accuracy, much to his father's delight and to his own disgust.

By the time someone had finally gathered the nerve to strike back, Calem had had enough. Slamming the door behind him, it nevertheless did little to drown his father's angry roar, telling the District Eleven male to commit an act too explicit for children's ears and ordering him to leave the son he wish he had fathered alone.

Even outside, even in the heart of the town square, he could not escape the graphic footage of the Games, as the heads of the girls from Four and Nine were crushed in the fists of Careers, as the girl from Eight was quite literally butchered into pieces, as the District Eleven boy lost a leg to the Twelve girl and nevertheless fought to the bitter end.

Alas, for both that boy and himself, his final hail mary had fallen short, the knife tearing itself through the Todd boy's cheek instead of sinking itself into his eye.

He never thought he'd be so disappointed at one of his district's representatives evading an early grave.

For hours he trudged through town, occasionally stopping at a shop to sit or running into an acquaintance to chat with, but for the most part he was simply walking, gazing up at the live broadcasts and replays of that day's Games events. Over and over again, until images of the Eleven boy's death and the girl from Three losing her entire leg were burned into his mind, until video snapshots of two skulls splitting open with nothing more than the power of someone's fists were replaying through his brain, until the clip of the bizarre girl from Six talking to a very obviously dead skull had him questioning how any of the victors had escaped from their own respective hells with the majority of their wits.

The summer sun had descended behind the clouds during one of his many laps around the streets of the inner town, yet even then he had not begun to worry until the justice building had come into view, revealing to him just exactly how late it was.

"Shit."

The feminine voice that echoed his thoughts was far too realistic to have merely been a figment of his imagination, and a quick glance to the right revealed a dark-haired girl, standing with her hands on her hips and her chest heaving with noticeable exertion.

He let out a huff of amusement, before deciding to make his way over to where the girl - a stranger - was standing.

"You too, huh?" he asked, trademark grin on face and tone light and airy.

But even they could not chase away the growing feeling of unease forming in his gut. He had never been out after curfew, a side effect of his overly strict father, and had often heard stories of the unnecessary brutality of the Peacekeepers.

And the last thing that he wanted right now, even moreso than the death of the Todd boy, was to find out whether the stories were true or not.

CALEM DUNBAR

"Yeah." The girl's response is airy, rushed, betraying her fear. "I don't know what to do."

She was the physical embodiment of the unease building in his gut, but at least she was someone real, and, more importantly, someone that lacked the white cloth of the Peacekeeping force.

And yet, her panic was perfectly justified. His smile slowly faded as the weight of the situation and just how much danger they were in sank in.

"I don't know- what do we do?"

The girl gives voice to the question resting on his mind, the question of just exactly what they should do. The question who's answer he was as privy to as the girl standing across from him - that is, to say, he had no idea.

He doesn't respond for a moment, a million different ideas storming through his head with no clear solution popping from mind.

They stood there, scared boy and scared girl, both clearly novices to the notion of the terrible, heinous crime of breaking curfew, with no clear idea of how to proceed.

Finally, one thought did pop to the surface, and he spoke. "Honestly, I'm not quite sure." he admitted. "We should probably get moving, though. Be a bit harder for the keepers to find us if we're moving instead of standing around."

He didn't know any of the few shopowners still awake well enough to attempt seeking refuge for the night, which left him and the girl with precious few options.

He wouldn't leave her, though, no matter what her thoughts on the matter were.

"That sound good to you?" he asked, tilting his head ever so slightly.

For better or for worse, their fates had intertwined for the night.

CALEM DUNBAR

"Wait!"

The girl's exclamation is so loud, so sudden, that he starts in retaliation.

"What's your name?" she asks, a wariness in her eyes that he hadn't noticed before.

Well, shit.

In his barely veiled desperation to find another person, under the facade of his calm, it appeared that he had completely forgot to provide his identity to the unknown girl standing across from him.

"I need to know I can trust you." she continued.

Fair. he thought. If he was in the same situation, where he had been alone in the dark and some stranger had approached him, he would probably be wondering the same thing.

Would he have found him trustworthy? He had certainly found the girl worthy of his trust, in any case.

It was probably a good thing that at least one of them hadn't lost their common sense, in any case.

But before he can respond, her next words causes his blood to chill.

"What if you're a Peacekeeper?!"

For a second, he glances at her, shock and disbelief flashing across his own gaze, as he tried processing exactly what the strange girl had asked.

After deciding that she wasn't pulling his leg, he straightened, face breaking out into a smile fueled by adrenaline and panic mixed into one.

"Well, if I am a Peacekeeper, that would be bad, seeing as I'm practically scared to death of them." he joked, attempting to lighten the mood.

But just as quickly, the smile faded a second time, replaced by an expression that could no longer conceal the worry building inside of him. The girl was obviously just as frightened by the circumstances as he was, so he found no reason to be dishonest.

"My name is Calem." he said simply. "Calem Dunbar."

He glances up at the clock for a second, before returning it to the girl. "I assure you, I am as much a Keeper as the Justice Building is, so you don't have to worry about me."

He almost asks the girl her own name in turn, but at the last second decides against it. Unless she is the world's best actor, the chances of her being a Peacekeeper are as slim as his own, and he can see no reason to press it out of her.

If she wants to, then she can share it when she's ready.

CALEM DUNBAR

"I trust you."

Just like that, in three simple words, one wave of tension melts away, disappearing into the air like puddles on a hot summer day.

But in the end, one less wave of many does little to chase away the growing unease building in his chest.

"We don't have much time." The girl echoes his thoughts, and he swears he hears a growing note of panic in her voice. "Do you know somewhere we could go?"

The answer to that question, he quickly realizes, is no.

His mind briefly flashes to his own home, on the outskirts of the town and nowhere near the square. It was why he had journeyed here in the first place - it was about as far away from the jeers and shouts of his father that he could get.

Besides, even if he did live closer, something tells him that he would be less than pleased with the presence of the girl that had become his companion for the night purely by chance.

He shakes his head, knowing exactly what that entails. "I live on the far side of town," he offers as an explanation.

He takes a breath. "And...I don't exactly get out much."

That much is true, no thanks to his dear old dad.

"Sorry about that," he mutters, softer.

He takes another deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart. So far, he's been able to keep his panic levels low, but with each passing moment, the likelihood of a Peacekeeper squad happening upon them grows.

And he wasn't lying. He really knows no other place to go.

But still, he refrains from panicking. Barely.

The last thing that he and this unknown girl need right now is a full-blown panic attack.