beginner's luck // ridley!

For the length of their own humility, Sampson could not keep their hands dry. Oily fingertips staining the rooftop mannequins before Ridley even had the chance to see them full glory. Never had they ever been this damn nervous. Each job had it's down sides, sure, but they never expected the most terrifying part to be the beginning. 

Mr. Fenwick's letters would find themselves tucked into Sampson's suitcase and it was just a list of instructions. Hell, orders even. Sardonyx was a hard working mother and they had grown up adoring that ethic in every way, but it didn't settle in their mind until they were officially her replacement. Between meeting Opal and Topaz and- god, Justice, he was less intimidating and more... anyways, Sampson was surprised to realize how many victors drank. 

Or how much they drank, really. It made Sampson ever the bit more nervous to meet Ridley, to confront every expectation media had nailed into that name. She was the meticulous reaper, the clean cut daughter from district one and she just so happened to be brand new to the damn crown. New to Sampson's impressions, and they all knew how the victors adjusted on their year. They pulled their suit jacket tight and straight, pushed braids back behind their jawline. 

Could she kill me?

That's not allowed, right? Sampson couldn't help but think, to be shake their leg a little faster as they waited for Ridley's arrival. Measuring tape draped around their shoulders and the anticipation was killing them. Now, more than ever, Sampson tried to keep focused on their path through this; it's just another meeting. Just another client, just another victor, lord. 

"Ahh," they had to break their focus on the gowns as they heard the rooftop door open. A sheepish grin growing with each second, Ridley Le Roux, in the flesh. Every bit as gorgeous as it is intensely terrifying. Part of them wished they could coward out and blend into the sky behind them, baby blue suit and Sampson's just part of it. Behind the clouds, nervously chewing the needle and thread between their teeth. 

"Miss Ridley! It's it-
it's is...," oh what is happening, "it is such a pleasure to meet you, my reaper!"

Hmm. They regained that Crowe composure in their spine, everything their mother would want from them. Perhaps it's too soon for the capitol nicknames, Sampson can't help but kick themself for it as they meet Ridley under the lattice entrance. Tucking the needle into their pocket, Sampson reaches a hand out. 

Just be formal. Comfortable. 

Oh dear, oh my, "I'm sure you've gotten my letter- I wasn't too sure if the petal bomb was a bit too much, but you know-" a slight chuckle, more out of nerves than the rest. "First impressions and all that!" It's a pair of pearly whites and clutching their clipboard into their hip, Ridley is everything Sampson dreams of representing. The mystique, the elegance, the ferocity, 

good lord, there isn't a pore on her face. 

Sampson turns on their heels and almost begin guiding her to the teapots with her name on it, the row of gowns with Sampson's entire career stitched into it. "Oh," they say over their shoulder, "you did agree to walk for me, right? That Le Roux face was meant for spring, not autumn, you know."