High Noon at the Golden Corral [Abel/Arthur]
Sept 30, 2021 23:54:51 GMT -5
Post by marguerite harvard d2a (zori) on Sept 30, 2021 23:54:51 GMT -5
a r t h u r .
"One foot in front of the other
All that we have is each other
One foot in front of the other"
If ever there was anything that made Arthur Rollei question his faith in bringing down the capitalist pigs that ran the world, it would have been the buffet in the training center.
Whole rack of rib that fell off the bone, macaroni and cheese drizzled with browned breadcrumbs, wagyu beef grilled to perfection, crisp, milky rich ice cream that floated like a cloud on top of his tongue – it’d be fifty-fifty whether he died by the blade or from a coronary at the rate he was going through the food. After the first morning he’d made sure to be the first through the doors and the last to leave. He’d already gotten to know the staff by name. Thelma that worked afternoons had given him a fresh slice of red velvet after he’d told her how much he missed his ma and pa back home.
He knew well enough that the cafeteria had its own fault lines, and in true Arthur fashion, had tried to avoid them at all costs. He hadn’t much of a reason to talk to the careers, even if one might’ve mistaken him for one based on his size. He had his brother’s friends back home to thank. All the hours hauling metal junk, skate boarding, and racing one another at least saved him from looking like another scrawny nerd from three.
“Hey dude, what’s up,” Arthur slid his tray along the table as he took a seat across from the boy from eleven. The lower districts felt like a safer bet, especially someone who had been related to a boy in the games last year. Either he’d have a slow burning fuse ready to go off or was ready to crumble under the weight of what the capitol intended to put him through.
“Love the hair you know? That like, the thing in Eleven?” Arthur picked up a spare rib and took a bite out of the middle. He spoke as he chewed, little bits of gristle flying out across his tray. “I heard you all are like, shadow careers. Like you secretly train your whole lives to fight. Though I can’t imagine how.”
He let out a belch and hit his fist against his chest.
“Plus, that little guy you all got, the one that I’ve seen on television before? No way careers would elect that weenie.”