Fifth Dispatch. Practice Makes Perfect, And Perfect is Me. Action.
[It's a hot afternoon, and Effie Trinket has sneaked into the Barracks -- first checking to make sure no one else is in there.
No one is.
It's far too hot and dusty and anyone in her right mind would choose the techy comforts of the Battle Dome over this place.
This is a good thing. Effie doesn't WANT to meet anyone today. For one thing, she feels very awkwardly dressed: running shorts and a bright yellow T-shirt (yellow is a Power Color); white athletic socks with that 1970s-era striping at the top; sneakers. No heels, no shoulder pads, no wig, no makeup.
She is here -- VERY GRUDGINGLY, MIND -- to train for warfare. Her last announcement to the village brought on plenty of warnings, and even a subtle death threat or two, and at least a few people giving well-meaning advice. She can hardly believe any of the doubters who'd said the Malnosso would sacrifice her in a battle, but better safe than sorry. One never knows when the higher-ups might make a clerical error or shifting error and accidentally send a valued subject into dire straits.
The second reason she doesn't particularly want to meet anyone is because she knows none of the Luceti peons like her very much. That's fine with Effie. Eventually the Malnosso will take her into the inner workings of the organization and place her right where she belongs. Until then? Well. She can and has been staying indoors a great deal, being a bored journal stalker.
Unfortunately, this lonesome round in the Barracks confirms that Ms. Trinket is not cut out for warfare at all. It turns into hesitant prods at practice dummies with wooden swords, a lot of staring out the windows, and a frustrating turn at a punching bag.
Fighting is horrible and she's horrible at it and consequently is in a horrible mood.]
No one is.
It's far too hot and dusty and anyone in her right mind would choose the techy comforts of the Battle Dome over this place.
This is a good thing. Effie doesn't WANT to meet anyone today. For one thing, she feels very awkwardly dressed: running shorts and a bright yellow T-shirt (yellow is a Power Color); white athletic socks with that 1970s-era striping at the top; sneakers. No heels, no shoulder pads, no wig, no makeup.
She is here -- VERY GRUDGINGLY, MIND -- to train for warfare. Her last announcement to the village brought on plenty of warnings, and even a subtle death threat or two, and at least a few people giving well-meaning advice. She can hardly believe any of the doubters who'd said the Malnosso would sacrifice her in a battle, but better safe than sorry. One never knows when the higher-ups might make a clerical error or shifting error and accidentally send a valued subject into dire straits.
The second reason she doesn't particularly want to meet anyone is because she knows none of the Luceti peons like her very much. That's fine with Effie. Eventually the Malnosso will take her into the inner workings of the organization and place her right where she belongs. Until then? Well. She can and has been staying indoors a great deal, being a bored journal stalker.
Unfortunately, this lonesome round in the Barracks confirms that Ms. Trinket is not cut out for warfare at all. It turns into hesitant prods at practice dummies with wooden swords, a lot of staring out the windows, and a frustrating turn at a punching bag.
Fighting is horrible and she's horrible at it and consequently is in a horrible mood.]
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"We don't. I generally travel by train, where I'm from."
What a safe, comfortable conversation with the only man -- the only ONE -- to whom she truly mattered, here. To whom she wasn't some problem to be fixed.
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"Trains are for slow people. Though I did once travel on an intradimensional train. Here, step inside."
He had opened the teleporter door with a single hand, which would be impressive if she had realized it usually took two to do so. He was ready to lead her by the hand into a dark metal chamber that in ordinary circumstances would seem incredibly suspicious.
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"We CAN be a little old-fashioned in Panem on long-distance journeys!" she laughed in return, standing as close as possible to him in the metal space. It was a little dank in here, considering the humid Luceti weather.
"I'd much rather travel a shorter distance.....with you."
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Commitment. It was enough to make any warm-blooded man shudder.
"Speaking of. Here we are."
They were inside a fort along the beach and while it wasn't anything special to look at, the air was much different inside with a distinct cool saltiness to it. Waves could be heard in the distance.
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Well...this was still kind of dank and wet-stone-smelling, but beyond, she could tell, were good things.
Effie laughed. She was finally beginning to relax. "What would I do without you?"
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Jack felt comfortable making light of her ridiculous makeup now that she was no longer in the habit of wearing it around him. He led the two of them outside the fort where the beach awaited them, ocean stretched as far as the eye could see.
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"Oh..."
But she couldn't argue with him about how she preferred to look and be. In fact, the sight of this beautiful sea was near enough to convince Effie to dress and look exactly how Jack asked her to.
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Jack had forgotten entirely what that was like and for a moment, he was jealous of her. He didn't like being jealous and so selfishness took over and he tugged on her hand as he continued forward.
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Jack Horner: taking her from her sweat and misery and aches and pains and violence into a place of serenity and bliss.
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It's much worse than Prince Charming, Jack.
"There's a scene....in the shower."
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"Showers can be very exciting," Jack agreed.
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"I happen to know that there's a very acceptable shower at my place..."
Though that wouldn't be convenient; too many people in and out.
Carefree, Effie let go of his hand to rip her sneakers and socks off. It was time to run into the surf.
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He saw a flaw in her suggestion. "I wouldn't call a shower used by Major Dick to be acceptable."
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I've been thinking. You know...about us."
And, you know -- her own personal comfort and safety.
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"... you want to go for a threesome?"
He knew she wouldn't want a threesome. He stepped into the water and paid no attention to it.
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He lived on the first floor, sure. But it had an elevator and the other buildings didn't.
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Why was she having so much trouble getting the words out?
"You see, I've come to the conclusion that none of them are good enough for me."
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But then as he was trying to sort out this odd sensation of deciding if he really cared about her, he suddenly had a realization. Something that would be an absolute conclusion to this hideous affair or Clementine and that one armed loser. A full apartment would mean there was no place for him. Ever.
"What about Clementine?"
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".....Oh. I.......I don't know."
This was certainly a wrench in the works.
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