Chapter Text
Duty: Orville
Orville Straud has tried his very best to make the first day in the Capitol run smoothly - it isn’t enough. He’d kept the lounge quiet, on Alara’s orders. Her new favorite toy had collapsed onto the sectional last night and fallen asleep before he’d made it upstairs with Coulomb - her deadly glare made it clear the girl was not to be disturbed. He’d brought the boy to his quarters and made him swear not to wake either Voltaea or Alara before bringing him a slice of cake and chamomile tea to help him sleep. The poor child has enough to worry about without getting wrapped up in… whatever is going on between those two.
As it turns out, Coulomb wasn’t much of a listener - he’d snuck off and woken Voltaea as soon as Claudius had arrived at the suite with their breakfast the next morning. The girl is a mess - still wearing the bodysuit Alara had chosen for her the night before - half-drenched in nightsweats - hair stuck every which way and tangled in knots - eyes bloodshot and glassy from the after-effects of whatever that woman had slipped her yesterday. She looks utterly lost as to how she had ended up here.
Coulomb seems unfazed by her state, or by Orville’s attempt at gesturing to please stop doing things that will make Vox despise you more. He just pipes up like it’s a completely normal morning - “Hey V, I thought you might want breakfast - they have so much fruit here!”
She nods at him - gives a brief, faint smile - but doesn’t speak. Her eyes are scanning the room like she’s on the hunt for something. Or someone. When she lands on Orville, she asks the question he was hoping she wouldn’t - “Where’s Alara?”
He straightens his back, stifles the urge to tell her to run away while she still can, and says “Ms. Vox has given me standing orders to not disturb her before noontime - if you’d like I can take you there after she wakes, but for now I think it might be best if you have some breakfast.”
“I think I’ll take my chances. I can eat later.” Voltaea pulls herself up from the sofa as she speaks. “Where’s her room?”
Don’t be stupid, don’t interfere. Orville ignores himself. “I truly cannot emphasize enough how much Alara dislikes being woken up before she’s ready. If you aren’t up for breakfast just yet I could bring you to your quarters so you -”
She cuts him off with a death glare and a snarl that he swears he’s seen Alara use with him before. “No - I told you, I have to see her.” By Snow’s grace, why are you so difficult?
He’s trying to find a more tactful way to phrase that thought when Coulomb pipes up again - grabbing the girl's hand lightly as he speaks. “I’ll show you where her room is if you’ll eat something first. I saw her walk down there last night.”
Then, to Orville’s surprise, she softens. “Okay.” she gives the boy another, faint smile. “You’re better at Orville’s job than he is.” Why you little shi… He takes a deep breath - reminds himself of reality for a moment. She’s a teenager with no etiquette training, don’t take it personally.
Orville follows behind the girl and Coulomb, shooting a glance at Claudius as they approach. The avox hasn’t moved from his position beside the serving cart. He gestures back at him using their code - the sign for girl, the sign for Alara, and the sign for danger. Orville frowns - throws up a shrug. What am I supposed to do if she won’t listen to reason?
The avox furnishes each tribute with a plate and a roll of silverware, stepping away so they can have free reign of the buffet atop the cart. He looks back to Orville - gesturing again. He picks up the sign for Alara - the rest is indecipherable. Orville fires back with a sign for I don’t understand.
Coulomb is chatting away to the girl about the different foods they should try - she flinches every time his voice raises in pitch like it hurts her to listen, but keeps nodding along, loading small portions onto her plate. Definitely a hangover - why Vox thinks this’ll help her is beyond me. Claudius signs to him again - whiteboard. He wants to write something to me.
Strictly speaking, they aren’t supposed to be communicating back and forth at all. At first, Orville had followed that rule - only speaking to the avox when he had something for him to do. It offended his sensibilities, however, to be so rude - he was trained to have manners , afterall. It’d taken Orville a full year to work up the courage to ask Claudius his name, even then. The handsome avox had written it in the dust atop a table before quickly wiping it away with his sleeve. Orville started bringing an erasable board around in his luggage after that - less unsightly than having to dirty a surface every time they needed to speak to one another. It’s how they’d started to develop their signing code.
He watches the tributes wander back to the sectional, Coulomb still chatting away to a nauseous-looking Voltaea who picks over her food. When he’s certain they’re occupied, he motions for Claudius to follow him down the hall to his quarters, shutting the door behind them as they enter. He rummages in his bag until he finds the whiteboard, and hands it to the avox. “Alright, my friend, what are you trying to tell me?”
Claudius takes the board, quickly scrawling across it with a marker - I think Vox has an interest in the girl beyond mentoring.
Orville tenses - tries to ignore the churning feeling in his stomach at the avox’s words. “I… look, between the two of us, I’ll admit I find the whole dynamic very strange… bordering on obsessive, even. But what are we to do about it?”
He erases the marker with his sleeve, scribbling across the board with a growing look of frustration on his face. He erases twice more before settling on what he wants to say - She’s a kid - she should have someone looking out for her. Trying to warn her at least! We could warn her.
Orville throws his hands up, flustered. “I HAVE been trying to warn her. I swear it’s as if everyone this year has earplugs in - not one of them, including you, seems to be hearing me.” Claudius looks… almost sad, resigned. He sighs and walks to the avox’s side, resting a hand on his shoulder. “Please, my friend, tell me why this has you so concerned? I’ve never seen you so worked up about a tribute before.”
Claudius erases the board once more, writing slowly this time - taking care to hide his work from Orville until he finishes. I have strong convictions against those in power who abuse it for their own ends. For your own safety, ask no more.
He’s about to say something in rebuttal - to ask what in Snow’s name he means by that - but can’t bring himself to - not when he sees the tears sliding down his dear friend’s face. His heart races, chest tightening at the sight of the handsome face now streaked with pain. Etiquette be damned - this man has been his closest confidant for nearly six years now. Orville pulls Claudius into a hug. “I’m sorry. I know it’s hard to watch. There’s only so much we can do, but I’ll try what I can.”
They pull away after a moment - Claudius has curtailed his crying once more. He nods to Orville, hands him the board, and signs thank you. Orville opens his luggage, hiding the whiteboard back near the bottom - just in case . They share a fleeting moment of silence, side by side, before returning to the lounge.
They find Coulomb alone on the sectional, watching cartoons, struggling to eat what appears to be his third plate of breakfast judging by the empty ones on the table. The girl is missing - her plate rests half-eaten next to where she was sitting. “Hey Mr. Orville. Did you get to have breakfast yet?”
He feels his heart drop into the pit of his stomach. The boy seems to do nothing but care for people. It’s going to be the death of him. But puts on a smile in spite of his worries. “I haven’t - why don’t you tell me what’s happened with your friend while I grab myself a plate?”
“She went to see Ms. Vox a minute ago - she said you were ‘too chirpy’ this morning and she needed the quiet.” He puts air quotes around the bit about being chirpy. Orville loads a plate with sausages, bacon, pancakes, and biscuits as the boy speaks. Claudius returns to his post by the entrance. “I tried to get her to eat breakfast, but I think she might feel sick.” the boy shifts uncomfortably for a moment - he looks like he’s holding back tears. “My dad used to get sick a lot - I can tell.”
Orville nearly starts crying himself - it’s been nothing but a torrent of emotions since they arrived last night. That would go against every ounce of his training of course, so he stifles the feeling. He walks to the couch and puts his plate down on the table, opening his mouth to say something in an attempt to distract the boy when the phone starts to ring. “A moment, I have to answer this.”
He clears his throat, straightens himself out, and pulls the phone to his ear. “Hello, this is Orville, can I direct your call?”
His veins turn to ice when he hears Alara’s voice on the other end of the line - I’m going to get an earful about this - “No, but you can bring me two coffees and an explanation as to why I’ve been woken up so early.”
So she’s still with her, then? That doesn’t bode well. “Oh! Alara, I apologize - I tried to explain to the girl that you don’t usually take guests until - “ he’s cut off before he can finish his explanation. Of course.
“Nevermind, just bring the coffee - quickly - before my patience slips again.” he hears the receiver click silent before he can even string a thought together.
He practically sprints to the breakfast cart, pouring two cups of coffee and scrambling to find all the creams, sugars, and flavorings he can to arrange into some presentable fashion. “Claudius - grab me a tray, please?” The avox glides to the bar counter and produces a silver serving tray from under it, handing it to Orville. He arranges the spread - for balance and beauty, as he was trained - and hoists the tray onto one hand to carry it down the hall. “I’ll be back” he turns to look over his shoulder at the boy as he speaks. “Try and enjoy the cartoons for a moment without your worries, alright?” Coulomb nods, but he still looks solemn when he turns back to the television.
Orville carries the arrangement down the hall to the very - end where Alara’s private quarters are - and tries to wipe the discomfort off his face before knocking. Alara opens the door - she hasn’t bothered to get herself ready for the day yet. No makeup, no styling, just a silk robe and a stinging stare. He can’t see the girl anywhere - but he hears the shower running in the background. I have never in all my years seen her behave like this. He keeps his composure. “Your coffees“ he hands her the tray, and she nods - no venom, no insult to his character, no implication that he’s done wrong by letting the girl wake her. Even stranger still.
He asks if she needs anything else - rambles a bit about the styling team as if it’ll distract him from the growing unease in his gut. She waves him away with a directive to call when the team arrives rather than knock, before shutting the door in his face. Orville makes his way back to the lounge to make an attempt at eating before the day’s preparations begin in earnest.
Coulomb has abandoned his place on the sofa, and is perched on a barstool chattering away to Claudius who looks on with something almost resembling a smile. They turn when he enters the room. “Mr. Orville! Look!” the boy throws up a sign with his hands - the one for Orville’s name. “I was asking about you guys’s secret code and your friend showed me how to say your name!”
Orville throws a finger up to his mouth and shushes him immediately . The boy looks hurt - he feels his heart sink in response. He walks over, leaning in close enough that they can whisper. “I have to ask you not to speak so loudly about this, my young friend. It’s secret for a reason.” The boy nods and furrows his brow like he’s deep in thought.
After a moment, he speaks again. “Okay” Coulomb drops his voice to a matching whisper. “But I want to learn how you do it.”
“But… why?” He’s utterly confused as to what use this could be to the boy - much as he’d like to be helpful to him. Claudius gestures with a stern look - listen.
The boy looks at his feet as he speaks again. “I’m… I’m not strong - and I’m not fast either.” Orville opens his mouth to say something in protest but Claudius holds up a hand - stop . “But I’m really good at making friends - and I learn quickly, my teachers have always said so. I think I can make myself look more useful to allies if I can teach us how to talk in secret, like you guys do.”
It’s not at all what he expected - and not the worst plan he could have come up with - Orville chases any remaining nerves to the side and nods affirmatively. “Alright, we’ll try and teach you what we can.” Claudius grins in his direction and signs - good choice .
They set to work immediately - Orville acting as the mouthpiece for Claudius’s frantic gesturing while Coulomb listens intently. Coulomb really is a quick study - by the end of the hour he can coherently sign several useful things back and forth with them. This includes - more cake please - which Orville gladly obliges.
As Coulomb digs into the cinnamon coffee cake he’s brought from the breakfast cart, Orville busies himself with setting up the lounge for the styling teams. He digs out adjustable chairs from the closets, lighting fixtures, mirrors, room dividers - all arranged for maximum efficiency. It’s a source of pride for him, at this point - how quickly he can transform the whole space for a new purpose.
As he’s setting up the last of the lights - he hears a knock at the door to the suite. What time is it? He looks at his watch - it’s already 11:30! He gestures to Claudius to retake his position, then turns to Coulomb. “I think the styling teams have arrived!” He signs to the boy - quiet, please. The boy nods, and Orville readies himself to answer the door.
He gasps when he opens it - It seems we’ve moved up in the world this year! The stylist assigned to them is a heavily glitter-coated man named Pontius - Orville recognizes him immediately. He’s been heavily promoted on the talk show circuits this past year as THE hot new thing in Hunger Games fashion after an explosive debut last year as the stylist for District One. Orville had expected he’d stay with the Career district - as any sensible person would - so to see him here… it was shocking, to say the least. The man reaches out a royal-purple gloved hand to shake his own.
“Orville Straud, District Five escort - I am so pleased to make your acquaintance!” he shakes the man’s hand - firm, assertive, just as he’d practiced. Pontius looks around the room with an unreadable expression.
“Pontius, I assume you are familiar with my work.” Orville nods. “Good. Then you know there is no time to waste -” He points to Coulomb. “I see the boy - where is the other one?”
“She’s…” he pauses, stopping himself from saying something that might find its way into the tabloids later. Alara doesn’t need any more attention for… whatever she’s trying to pull with the girl. He still can’t bring himself to think about it. “I’ll fetch her, just a moment.”
Pontius is already having his prep team drag their bags into the room, appraising Orville’s setup as he directs the two hapless helpers behind him with a snap of his fingers. He yells back to Orville, who’s still standing by the door reeling from the arrival. “Be quick about it - we have a vision to create!”