hearing the ocean | merluccius, 85th quell
Jun 13, 2020 16:51:20 GMT -5
Post by fireflyz on Jun 13, 2020 16:51:20 GMT -5
Jonathan Merluccius's fist collided with wood, the metal legs of the table trembling from the impact. A porcelain mug overturned, trickling black coffee and steam over the side. The man across from him did not flinch, but the way he opened and closed his fists against the table indicated his annoyance.
"What do you mean my son already received a letter?" Jonathan bellowed. "I'm the only one in this damned district who would even bother!"
"Clearly you're not the only person," the man responded coolly, tipping the mug upright. He tossed his head over his shoulder and called out to his assistant. "Corrinne, can you get some towels please?" A tiny woman rose from her seat in the corner and nodded, casting a frightened glance at Jonathan as she scurried out the door.
Exasperated, Jonathan leaned forward and pressed both his hands against the edge of the table. "I'm going to ask again," he said slowly, mustache quivering with fury. "Why can't I send a letter to my son if the tributes are allowed to receive them?"
Corrinne reemerged from the back, red and white striped towels in hand. Jonathan straightened up and reached a hand towards her. "I'll take care of the mess. Thank you, miss." The girl shoved the wad of cloth into his hands with wide brown eyes and scurried away. The man sitting behind the table was no less tense.
"Tributes are only allowed to receive one letter that will be given to them in the Arena," the man said stuffily, his eyes lingering on Jonathan's hands as he dabbed at the dark puddle. "Dominic Merluccius is documented as having received a letter already. You should have received the rules in the notice we sent to your address."
Jonathan unfolded the towel, now blackened with coffee, while raising an eyebrow. "I never received a letter at my address," he answered. "I only found out about this through a business partner."
The man swept at the remnants of the liquid on his desk before picking up a soppy stack of papers. "I'm not sure why you wouldn't have seen it," he said, squinting through his narrow glasses. "Says here that the notice was sent to 42 Wentletrap Lane."
The sound made Jonathan stiffen, jaw tightening.
"Is there a problem, sir?"
"No," Jonathan responded, depositing the towels onto the table. "That's correct. My mistake."
He pinched the corner of the envelope he had left on the table, part of it having been subjected to his rage. "You have a nice day."