Mr Manor: A victim to a teenage mugging (mattio)

[lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah]

MARLOWE

I had been watching Atticus Manor very closely, keeping my distance as sneaky fingers ducked in and out of unexpected pockets and bags. But I had not approached him yet, working up the courage to steal from district three's golden boy. But as the night began to start the shift to the day I began to feel more desperate, clammy fingers closing around the butter knife's handle as I began to close the distance between us.

He was a big fish in a sea of small stupid fish.

Not a very creative thought, but one that hit the mark.

Out of the corner of my eye, I notice the victor slip out of the building, escaping into the alley for what I assumed to simply be a breath of fresh. Taking a deep breath I count to three before I slip on my hood, hoping that the shows would cover most of my face. Out in the alley, I brandish my knife towards him, "Give-"

I pause, sniffing the air slightly, my eyes drawn to the lit cigarette caught between his lips. "Are you smoking pot my Manor?" I ask in disbelief, temporarily forgetting that I was about to rob the man.

[MATTIO]

atticus.

After his photoshoot with the Sparks boy, Atticus turns his direction to the neon-red exit sign. The party, along with its assortment of colors and flashes, spikes at his eyes and forces his head into the direction of any blank wall in the vicinity. He's never been good at parties, even when he was vigorously trained by escorts, stylists, and prep teams when he still had some of the spotlight. He slips his coat on, careful to make sure all his possessions are still intact, before heading outside into the winter's chill.

Making his way to the alley two streets down, Atticus already has his arms reaching for his inside pocket. On his left, a dark green pocket lighter, and on his right, a baggy of joints that he'd purchased yesterday for whenever he found himself anxious. Once Hunter informed Atticus that they'd be attending the Winter Solstice's party with all three of their kids, he realized that making a quick dash to Caspian's for a few.

Atticus's lips press up against the joint as his back crushes the brick building from behind. A moment of peace and quiet at last. His eyes open from their relaxed state for just a moment and there's already a pair of eyes watching him. "Give-" he's startled, and the person ahead of him is too, as their knife wobbles in disbelief. "Are you smoking pot, my Manor?"

He takes it out for a moment, letting the smoke blow. "Uh," he says, watching the knife close to his chest. Luck hasn't been on his side for the past decade. Three of his tributes have threatened to kill him, three children came to him by surprise, and now, he's finding himself at knifepoint for the one and only time he's attended an event this year. "Yes?"

Just get on with it!

elegant

[lionel estrada d5 ᥫ᭡ kiah]

MARLOWE

He see's the knife immediately, his eyes focusing on it tightly grasped in my hands and I almost have the urge to tuck it behind my back. It was at this moment I realised that the mugging washy going exactly to plan. Seasoned criminal I was, I always preferred the protection of my key board and brief meeting in the middle of the night where you would only mutter a word or two as goods were exchanged for money. This was so far out of my depth and I had a strong feeling it was going to end badly.

"Uh," he says after allowing a long puff of smoke to escape his lips, his eyes still focus on the knife. Which was good, right? It meant that he might not recognise my face, or recall details if he decided to report this incident to the peacekeepers. "Yes?" He says almost as though the whole situation bored him rather than causing him unease.

"Ah.. Ah- I didn't know the golden boy of district three smoked dope." My eyes drop to the butter knife, and I shake myself slightly, reminding myself why I was here. "Money- Mr. Manor I demand that you give me all your fucking money! Do it! Or- or I'll have to fucking stab you!" I step closer, the knife between us. "I'll do it!" I probably wouldn't. "I mean it, Mr Manor!"

[MATTIO]

atticus.

He's unsure whether backing away or not would be a good idea. Atticus remains unphased, the rubber from the bottom of his shoe bending gently as he begins to slouch against the knife. Maybe he could play it by chance and see what happens. A robber surely wouldn't stab a victor, the most current one of their district, and think it would go unnoticed and unquestioned. But on the same hand, his stomach has always done wonders keeping all sorts of food down. That might not be the case if this girl stabs him in it.

She's caught off guard by his response and lack of a shocked reaction. "Ah.. Uh.. I didn't know the golden boy of three smoked dope." Golden? Do people still call him that? Surely his gold has faded past bronze and closer to the dumpsters. Atticus keeps no intention of maintaining fame or fortune from winning the Games. It's simply a piece of him that he tries to avoid until Reaping time comes. That way, he can let it all out in one short burst of a month, deflecting it away for another forty-eight weeks. "Mr. Manor I demand that you give me all your fucking money! Do it! Or- or I'll have to fucking stab you!" Her knife wobbles closer as her guard rises again. She means business. A hardcore robbery!

Atticus drags his wallet out from his pants, digging his fingers deep to pull it out of the tight pocket. He pulls out a selection of bills, probably about a hundred dollars total, and sets it at his chest.

But he pauses before handing it over. Looking back toward his hand, Atticus reveals his lighter again. He flicks the flame up, centimeters away from the wad of cash in his hand. Spitting out his mostly-gone joint and letting it fall to the ground, he shrugs his shoulders. "Does money lit on fire work for you?"

He's toying now, seeing how far he can go before a knife ends up in his stomach. Living life on the edge, Mr. Manor hasn't done it in quite a long time.

elegant