Fourth Dispatch: It's Not What You Think. Voice.

[trinkett]

Dear Fellow Residents of Luceti,

Wouldn't it be entertaining to put on some Games here in Luceti? Not that the Cultural Fair wasn't amusing, or any of the other activities going on here -- but true gladiatorial games. The pitting of one creature against another! Think of the thrill and drama and the release that goes along with that sort of entertainment! And here in Luceti we are ideally suited for a very exciting Games indeed.

Who would you sponsor or volunteer for this entertainment? Or would it all be...

[There is a pause here.]

Pokey-mans? I find human beings MUCH more interesting to watch, personally.

Comments

[greenjacketed]

...He coughed. Almost spluttered, maybe. Because he hadn't expected it to rise to the conversation's surface quite so easily. "And so one good thing might come of them," he answered -- entirely content not to hide his dislike for the young man. "Either way, the suggestion was hardly a popular one."

[trinkett]

"Do YOU plan on becoming very popular here?" she asked bitterly. Effie began pacing the room, putting things in order without really paying attention to what she was doing.

[greenjacketed]

He still stood stiffly on the threshold.

"Not really. I don't see how it could possibly benefit." Popularity came with pressure. No, Sharpe craved a different kind of recognition. But he didn't crave it here. "But if you want it, you won't get it by failing so miserably at gauging what everyone else wants, Miss Trinket."

[trinkett]

"I never said I wanted it!" Have an Effie death-glare, Sharpe.

[greenjacketed]

A harsh huff of air -- almost a laugh, but soundless.

"You don't got to say it, do you? It's bloody obvious. You want to work for the bastards keepin' us here. You want to put yourself in their good books. You want to be popular, aye, but not with the rest of us. You want in with the damned Malnosso."

[trinkett]

"So what if I do?! I work hard for what I get, Sharpe." She whirls to face him. "I never expect anything to be handed to me!"

He might be getting a bit of the raw, real Effie here. The one she generally hides.

[greenjacketed]

"Work hard?" He smirked -- clearly not too perturbed by her reaction. "Aye. I'll give you that much. It's only that you're working hard at all the wrong things. The world don't run on hard work alone, ma'am."

[inyourfavor]

"Oh, and I suppose YOU know the right things, Mister Eagle!"

[greenjacketed]

"...I know enough to know what everyone else in this town will deem right and what they'll deem wrong. This ain't your Capitol; your Games won't be well-received. Bloody hell, half of'em turn their nose up at hunting food."

Let alone each other.

[happyhungergames]

"So I'm guessing you're not ready to volunteer anyone for the spectacle," comes the dry reply.

[greenjacketed]

"I only fight when I'm paid," he stressed the word -- knowing even as he said it that it was a damned bloody lie. Money might been one motivation but it was not the be all and end all of his violence. The honest truth was that he was good at it. A seasoned, successful killer -- legitimized by war. And although he claimed all soldiers feared battle, he couldn't deny that his blood sang every time he entered the field.

[happyhungergames]

"How much are you worth?" It is actually an honest question. Effie wants to know.

[greenjacketed]

"...Fourteen shillings and one pence, ma'am. Per day."

[trinkett]

"I see.




What is that in REAL currency, I wonder?"

[greenjacketed]

...Damn. Well, he couldn't tell her what it was in guineas, as it wasn't worth a full one. However: "Listen, you. A private's paid one shilling a day -- not accounting for stoppages, of course. It's about as little as you can be paid, in the army. A Major gets fourteen times that."

And it still wasn't enough to properly kit oneself out as an officer, but he wasn't about to tell her that.

[trinkett]

She smiled a bit wickedly at listen, you. Ha. A sensitive spot.

"I'll pay you fourteen times more than that to participate in my Games."

[greenjacketed]

A sensitive spot indeed. It was difficult to be an officer when your officer's pay was your sole source of income -- bloody hell, the mandatory mess fee ate into your profit. All the other expected trappings. Swords -- and sword maintenance. Decent lodgings. No, officers were meant to be wealthy in their own right long before they received their pay.

"You and what coffers, eh?"

[happyhungergames]

"If we can charge admission? THOSE coffers!" Though Effie had no idea what people would pay with. Maybe valuable personal items; perhaps treasures dug up from the land. "Though I'm fairly certain the Malnosso have taken a liking to me. Perhaps they'll finance it."

[greenjacketed]

"...How is it, I wonder, that a woman like you is so damned daft?"

Honestly. It confused him. There were some moments, around the house, where Effie's certainties shone. And she could make a decent roast, Sharpe decided. But he wondered how, even now, she could cling to the notion that anyone would be financing anything. Of course, if he only thought about it a moment longer, he would have remembered all the officers he'd met who were so daft about some things while being good at others.

He sighed. "Your audience has nothing to pay with, ma'am. And your Malnosso bastards don't need to bankroll anything if they care to see us fight. They only have to ship us off. And even if these things weren't true, the local population doesn't stomach violence well. You'd be better off doing what any other twisted entrepreneur does and get yerself some dogs..."

As a young boy, Sharpe had worked the dog fighting pits. It hadn't been a kind scene.

[trinkett]

"Oh. I am! Getting a dog, I mean." It seemed necessary for self-protection, at this point. "A big one."

[greenjacketed]

"You're getting a dog..." Dry. God, he missed the days when the only people he shared quarters with were those to whom he could issue orders. "Bloody hell."

[trinkett]

"You don't LIKE dogs, I gather." Also dry.

[greenjacketed]

"I don't dislike dogs..."

But no -- he didn't like them, either. Animals in general found little sympathy from the rifleman, though he nurtured a private preference for stray cats. Prim's goat -- named for his own India -- was endured because it brought milk and cheese to their pantry and a smile to Prim's face.

[trinkett]

Effie hated Prim's goat. It smelled so bad. Why didn't they just get their milk at the store like everyone else? Ugh.

"This dog would stay in my room. With me," she was quick to tell him. "I want a big, loyal one."

[greenjacketed]

"Stay in your room. With you."

How unlikely that sounded. His hackles rose. "Tell me, ma'am, have you ever lived with a dog?"