Chapter Text
Bystander - Orville:
Orville Straud has been working since before dawn - today is the first day of training, and he’s determined to make sure everything is in perfect working order before the rest of the suite’s occupants even think to get out of bed. He’s picked up uniforms for Coulomb and Voltaea from the staff downstairs, had Claudius gather the things Alara left behind on the train, and arranged for a nutritious - and of course delicious - breakfast to be delivered. He’s even crafted a comprehensive itinerary of sponsor meetings that he’ll need to attend while Alara watches over training with her cohorts in the mentor’s lounge today. Nothing overlooked, nothing out of place - everything is going exactly to plan.
He wakes Coulomb first - less stressful that way. He’s grown fond of the small boy over the last several days - he’s personable, clever, and loves all manner of sweets - he reminds me of myself at that age. He tries not to think about the poor thing having to fight in just a few day’s time, all he can do is hope his cleverness carries him through.
When Orville knocks at his door, the boy answers within seconds - like he was already awake and waiting. His eyes are puffy, cheeks streaked with tears - “Is it time for breakfast?” Coulomb sniffles as he speaks. Oh dear. I’m terrible with tears.
“It will be soon -” Orville hands him a handkerchief from his pocket to dry his face. “- are you feeling alright this morning?”
Coulomb nods, wiping his cheeks - “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Orville. I just had some bad dreams is all.” The boy tries to give him a smile, it looks forced. “Can we practice more signing today? I wanna show V in training - it’ll be like our secret District Five code!”
The mention of Voltaea throws him off - his first instinct is to warn the boy to stay far away from her. Are you sure it’s wise to be relying on that girl? She’s very… influenced by Alara, that could be dangerous. He stops himself short of speaking that thought aloud - wouldn’t be the right approach . District unity is very popular with the audience, it could lose them sponsors if they don’t present a united front. He just ends up saying - “Of course, I think that’s a brilliant idea!”. Better to leave him with some new skills even if they end up benefitting her as well. The two walk down the hallway towards the lounge.
He walks Coulomb to the dining table, pulling out a chair with a practiced flourish “Breakfast will be here soon, I’ll be back in just a moment with your District partner.” The boy nods, smiling a bit more earnestly now. Orville takes off down the hallway, back towards the other tribute quarters.
He knocks at the door to the girl’s room - no answer. After half a minute’s wait, he knocks again - louder this time - and presses his ear to the door to see if he can hear her stirring. Nothing, not a sound. A knot forms in his chest - Oh dear… I hope she’s just a heavy sleeper. After the third knock with no response he decides to open the door and wake her a bit more aggressively. Oh, this isn’t good, this isn’t good AT ALL!
The room is untouched - the bed unused, the spare clothes he’d brought for her still folded in a neat pile on the coffee table, the lights off. It’s like she hasn’t been in here - perhaps she hasn’t been in here - oh gods, have I LOST A TRIBUTE?! His heart races so quickly it’s threatening to burst out of his chest - pure panic - he tries to calm himself with deep breaths and positive words - Alara is going to KILL ME!
Positive words seem to elude him as he races to the lounge to call Alara’s private suite in the hopes the distance of a call will be enough to keep her from strangling him when she finds out he’s failed to account for an entire teenager . Claudius is standing against the wall by the dining table when he storms in, pale faced and panic-laced - Coulomb tries to say something but he ignores him - too much to fix, too little time . He yanks the phone from its holder and dials the number from memory - Alara picks up on the fourth ring - “You’ve reached Alara, I hope this is good news.”
Orville’s blood runs cold when he hears the grogginess in her voice - Oh gods, I’ve woken her up! AND it is NOT good news at all - he stammers his response into the receiver “Yes, ah. Well, how to put this -”
Alara sighs loudly, frustration mounting - he can feel it even through the phone - “Spit it out, I have too much to do today.”
He ends up blurting it all out, without thinking of how to soften the blow - “The girl isn’t in her room, I think I’ve lost her! I don’t know where she could be, I didn’t see her leave the suite at all and I -”
Alara cuts him off, but her voice is calmer now - “She’s in here. With me.” Her words do nothing to calm the growing pit in his stomach - That might be worse than losing her, what is she thinking? What are they doing in - no - not my business - don’t make it my business.
Orville straightens himself out - the rest of their call is brief - just an exchange about bringing the girl’s training uniform to Alara’s suite and the technicalities of breakfast - where she is apparently living now, gods help her. He hangs up and turns back towards the table where Coulomb and Claudius are both staring at him expectantly. “What’s going on, Mr. Orville? You look really pale.”
“Nothing to worry about, it’s just… ah…” Orville scrambles to find an explanation that won’t betray what he really feels - “Your friend fell asleep during a strategy meeting with Alara, that’s all. If you’ll both excuse me, I have to bring the girl her uniform.” He looks to Claudius - the handsome avox is frowning at him, he shakes his head - “Claudius, would you mind grabbing the breakfast cart? And bringing Coulomb here his training gear as well?” The avox nods, but he gives him the sign for ‘Talk later’ as he directs Coulomb to stand up and head back to his room to change.
Orville sighs - the situation is out of my hands at this point. It doesn’t make him feel any less ill about it - not when he’s seen firsthand how Alara has manipulated the girl. He gathers Voltaea’s uniform and her notes from the train into a neat stack before taking off towards Alara’s private suite. When he arrives at the door, he hears muffled voices from inside - don’t be nosy, just knock - he raps softly on the door and hears Alara say something to the girl he can’t quite make out.
She answers a moment later, her usually coiffed curls tangled from sleep and looking very self-satisfied. He glances behind Alara - this is a new low for her - she has the girl in her bed , wearing that same black silk robe she was in the day prior and looking very hungover. His cheeks burn - he averts his eyes, trying to keep contact with Alara instead. Focus on the job, Orville. “I… ahem.” he clears his throat, there’s a lump growing in the back he can’t seem to shake - “I had Claudius bring the notes she left on the train, those are here as well.” Alara takes the stack of clothes from his hands. He doesn’t move.
He’s not sure what else he can say - if I say anything I’ll never work in this city again. Just leave, you can just turn and leave. His mind wanders back to his friend Claudius - of the concerns they’d shared for the girl - of the gnawing feeling of guilt in his stomach when he thinks about what’s happening. Just go to breakfast, don’t bother her. Alara glares at him, a look of anger flashes across her face - “Are you going to stand there all morning, or do you have something useful to be doing?”
Claudius would think less of me if I didn’t at least try - he shifts, steels himself, and speaks in the calmest voice he can muster - “Are you certain that this is an… appropriate sleeping arrangement for a tribute?” I shouldn’t have said that.
Alara’s rage is immediate - her voice is cold, sharp, and utterly terrifying - he flinches - “Are you paid to pass judgement on my mentoring methods?”. Orville attempts to apologize but Alara cuts him off - “No, you aren’t. Your job is to be personable with our sponsors and to do what I tell you.” I know… She leans close, a whispered threat in his ear that makes his whole body tremble - “I suggest you don’t overstep like this again - not if you value your position.” Not if I value my life, you mean. He nods, he understands exactly what the stakes are with this woman - and he doesn’t intend to make this mistake again. The girl is on her own.
Orville spins around and heads back for the lounge with a newfound resolve to stop sticking his nose in places that will get him fired - or worse, killed. It’s for the best if he focuses his efforts on keeping Coulomb safe for now - that, at least, is something he can control. He’ll tell the handsome avox that he tried, of course, but at this point - well, Alara and the girl both seem to have made up their minds .
He makes a beeline for the bar counter - Coulomb hasn’t returned from changing yet - and pours himself a shot of clear liquor, downing it before anyone sees. I haven’t had a daytime shot since University - but - desperate times and all. The burn of the shot shoots through him, calming his frayed nerves as it does. He pours another - just for good measure - and knocks it back. He stashes the glass as he hears Coulomb’s voice echo from down the hallway - “Is it almost time for breakfast?”
“Claudius should be back soon -” The boy skitters back down the hall to the dining area, nearly tripping over a rug by the door but catching himself just in time.
“I like the shoes, they’re easy to run in. Kinda springy too!” Coulomb bounces a few times to demonstrate. “I wish we had nice stuff back in Five -” the boy plops himself down in a dining chair. “Do you think if one of us wins they’ll let our families have some nicer things? My sister likes to run, but her shoes dig into her ankles pretty bad when she does. If I win, I want to get her a pair of these!”
Orville tries not to let his innards tie themselves into knots again at the boy’s question. There’s protocols about the sorts of things you should say to tributes - ‘It’s an honor to compete’ ‘Victory comes with fame, glory, and fortune’ ‘Try your hardest - even an underdog has a chance’. It all feels hollow in the face of the tiny boy before him - so earnestly excited about something as simple as a decent pair of sneakers. There’s something about this year’s tributes that seem so profoundly unfair to him. Neither of them really has a choice in their fates, not really. Perhaps none of them ever had. Perhaps none of this had ever been fair. Perhaps the Games aren’t the wonder we’ve been led to - no! He interrupts his own train of thought. That must be the liquor talking, or the stress - you can’t go around thinking like this, Orville. You’re an escort, not the president.
Instead of voicing the sorts of things that lead one to sedition charges, he simply tells the boy “I’m sure that if you win, they’ll let you bring her a thousand pairs - if that’s what you want to do.”
Claudius walks back through the doors to the suite before he has to justify anything else to himself - thank Snow for that. He wheels the breakfast cart to the end of the table and starts arranging the contents across it. “Can I eat now?” Coulomb asks, a note of excitement in his voice as he eyes a tray of tarts that Claudius puts right within his reach with a wink.
There’s still a while left before he’d told Alara to arrive for breakfast, but he can’t see a good reason to make the boy wait - they’ll catch up when they get here - “Go ahead, we may as well eat before it gets cold. Those tarts look delightful - perhaps I’ll have one myself!” He scoops up a lemon-and-raspberry flavored one from the tray as Coulomb fills his plate with an assortment of mostly sweet breakfast items. Claudius catches his eye and signs ‘follow me’, walking over to the window overlooking the city near the couch on the opposite side of the lounge.
Orville steals a glance back at Coulomb who seems more than happy to distract himself with food for the moment. He drops his voice to a low whisper - “Alright, my friend, what do you want to know?”
Claudius signs something that he interprets as ‘Girl, Alara, what is going on?’. Orville feels his stomach start to churn again - “I… I tried to ask - I said it wasn’t appropriate for them to be sharing a bed, at least.” his eyes widen in surprise when Orville mentions them sharing a bed. “It went nowhere - apart from Vox threatening my career and my life.”
The avox looks distraught - he signs ‘Drugs?’ Orville nods. “I think she’s been dosing her again, the girl looked like she’d been dragged through hell this morning.”
Claudius flashes a few more signs in quick succession - it takes him a moment to piece together what he’s trying to say but he eventually interprets it as ‘This city breaks people for its own entertainment - it makes monsters - we may end up with another if she wins under her influence.’ Orville repeats it back to him in a low whisper just to confirm he got the jist - the avox nods. This borders on seditious talk, drop the conversation.
Instead of listening to sense, Orville nods in agreement. “I dread what happens if she does - not just for us, but for her. Especially if anyone finds out about this. I doubt her home District would look kindly on that sort of relationship… and Alara will never let it go. She’ll drag that girl right into her drugs and her madness and keep her there until she burns herself out - and we’ll be left with the mess.” At least I can walk away without taking a knife to the back.
He watches as Claudius starts to sign something in return, but he’s distracted almost immediately by Alara’s voice booming out behind him - “Orville! Stop flirting with the help and come serve breakfast! I want to talk sponsorships this morning.” He spins around to see Alara pulling out a chair for the girl to sit in - arm wrapped possessively around her waist the whole time. At least she had the decency to let her get dressed today.
Orville straightens his tie and walks back to the table, Claudius in tow. He takes a seat next to Coulomb, who’s already asking the girl what their plans are for training today - blissfully unaware of the death-glare Alara is shooting in his direction. Voltaea sits across from him - she looks… twitchy. Like Alara does when she’s taken too many stims - tapping her fingertips incessantly against the edge of the table. It seems they’ve decided to share that vice as well. When she speaks, it's rapid - pressured - “First, tell me what you saw at the parade - I want to know what we’re up against.”