Countdown... // [NYE; open!]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

The thing is, if you want the truth of it all, Lauren Kinkade knew exactly who he was talking to. Which was not a given! Plenty of times over the years he'd found himself in the midst of a fundraiser or press pool or brunch and had absolutely no idea with whom he was speaking. But that was part of the Kinkade charm: he could make any feel as though they were besties.

In this case, he was working the opposite angle. He'd done his obligatory tour of the fair and bested the simulation. Now it was time to indulge in some questionably alcoholic peppermint hot chocolate and schmooze. The beanie he'd worn to meander incognito was gone; gel, hairspray and a bit of mascara had tamed his famous dark mane. His chin was nearly tucked into his black peacoat which was cut neatly at mid-thigh over his forest green velvet pants. The material alone stood out among the district three denizens, but no matter: it was late and they were mostly drunk.

The clock wound down. It was not totally dissimilar to the Games countdown, now that he thought about it. When it struck zero there would be a great burst of light and sound and people would delve into their very souls with rapture. Or at least, that's what he imagined the last moment on the podium to feel like.

What came after that... well he'd felt quite close enough in the simulation.

It was still some minutes to midnight and people milled making awkward conversation to fill the time. He could have spent some coin in the crafts tent or hunched near a fire. But good was a Gamemaker - even one so old and forgotten as himself - without a victor?

So though he played coy, Lauren could not have mistaken Victor Manor or his company if he'd tried. "Do y'all need another?" He asked, looking significantly at the game of dice being played atop the overturned wine barrel. "Or should I just grab a Peacekeeper for a partner?" He took a step back, playfully, as though he would ruin their gambling and then giggled.

[mat]

atticus manor

With a six-sided die in one hand and a cup of hot chocolate in the other, Atticus Manor played a classic with the locals. Left, Right, and Center. Everyone bet on the barrel, a dollar for each entry. He rolled the die once the game got back to him: left. Atticus slid the bill to the gentleman on his left. If you roll left, right, or center, that's where you move your bill. And the last person with a bill left in their hand would be declared the pot winner.

It was monotonous, and when it wasn't his turn, Atticus's gaze locked in with the clock. Not long until midnight, the one moment in the year when everyone would be cheering for a made-up chronological mechanic for as much of a reason as they would a turtle crawling to the shore. Normally, he'd spend it at home, his husband rushing in to wish him a Happy New Year with a kiss on the cheek. Even in his own home, Atticus felt out of place. Tonight's event forced him to socialize, and with his children wandering the floor and his husband out with other friends tonight, he welcomed the opportunity.

His New Year's Resolution? To avoid being a stick in the mud as much as possible. He already started. He sipped the hot chocolate, warm to start with the sweet taste of bourbon in it to last. The gentleman beside Atticus rolled his die: right. The dollar went his way.

"Look at you! Showing you've still got moves in the fighting department at forty-one, and now you're winning here, too! Luck's on your side. Hopefully, it doesn't run out by the new year!"

Atticus palmed the dollar bill and rolled up the sleeves of his white-collar shirt. His forest green coat was wrapped around a chair behind him. "The new year's in five minutes, so I certainly hope not."

Another minute went by, leaving only a few dollars left in circulation. Atticus didn't have any on hand, but no one was ever out in this game unless they walked away from the table. He leaned back against the wall, absorbing claps, cheers, and clanking of champagne glasses. He never asked for much, but if he had one wish in the New Year, it was that the luck would stay. A rebirth in his relationship, a real connection with any of his kids, or even a new District Three victor would suffice. Anything to lessen the load that undoubtedly pulled years out of his lifetime.

One of the man's dollar bills slid in his direction. "Jesus, Atticus. Don't luck know you're rich already?"

"Hardly," he replied, locking his thumb through his belt loop.

"Where's my four-leaf clover when I need it?"

A pair of velvet green legs snaked in their direction. If these people were so misfortune, why hadn't they learned not to speak too soon? "Do y'all need another?"

Atticus recognized Lauren Kinkade without much trouble. The mug of bourbon hot chocolate lost half its weight in one breath. Lauren approached the table without an answer to his question. "Or should I just grab a Peacekeeper for a partner?"

He was referencing the New Year's kiss, of course. Atticus shrugged, squeezing tighter to one side to let Lauren in. No use in arguing with someone who doesn't care about etiquette lest it's to their benefit.

His die rolled on the surface, but Atticus took no chances. He flubbed the roll with a kick to the barrel's side, and the game ended when the second-to-last dollar entered the jackpot. Everyone cheered for the winner.

"We can always do with one more to ring in the New Year," Atticus said with courtesy, pulling his suit coat back on.

"Two minutes until the light show, everyone!"

He kept close to Lauren and his acquaintances to ensure nobody got into trouble.

[kap]

I'd tell you that I flirted my way into this outrageous New Year's Eve party, but that would be a lie, and I'm not really one known to lie about things. Rather, I just walked in. No one stopped me from going where I was going, even as I approached a table of some wealthy-looking people. If you gave off enough of a vibe of confidence, it could get you pretty far. Try it sometime and thank me for the advice later.

The people at the table were rolling dice and sipping hot chocolate. I was wondering where they'd gotten the hot chocolate, but as midnight got closer and closer, I figured it'd be best to stay around people, rather than going on a hunt for a hot beverage and potentially getting lost. I didn't want to miss out on the fun.

Some dude joined the table while I was standing there watching, someone else scooching aside to let him have a seat. Maybe I could join them too, if there was enough room. The guy who'd moved over for the newest table addition did one last roll with his dice before he announced that there were two minutes until the light show, and I decided to finally go over to the table. I'd blend in just fine, right?

I mean, I certainly wasn't dressed anywhere near as nicely as them, but that wasn't something that had ever mattered to me before. My polo shirt and jeans had gotten me sufficiently far in life. What was the point of changing up something that had continued to work well for me for so long?

There was no room for me to sit at the table. I glanced at each of the people seated there. Some of them gave off hardcore Capitol energy, which is to say, robot-android-person energy— especially the guy who'd just squeezed in at the table. I really didn't like that, but again, there wasn't much time to go elsewhere. I looked to the guy who'd said something about the lightshow and the probably-robot who was next to him, casually acting like I'd been a part of the conversation the whole time.

"So, the dice guy and his android! That would make quite the New Year's kiss, right?" I laughed a little too hard at my own joke when I said it, but my eye contact continued to shift between the two of them. I probably shouldn't have said the android part out loud, honestly, since the dude could get me in trouble for that if I was right, which I most certainly had full evidence behind as a theory, but I didn't really have any sort of filter in the way that I spoke most of the time, and that'd been fine in my life so far.

Most people just wrote me off as crazy.

-

[conspiracy theorist Denny at your service!]
[471 words]