Not the Last of My Kind // [Katelyn/Glamour]

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

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Glamour Kinkade

your compliments look good on me

[attr="class","Glamscroll"]

It was late afternoon, which meant that Katelyn would have at least one date after him.

Which meant he wasn't the favorite.

Glamour could feel his stomach crawling up into his throat. Somewhere in the haze of the last few days, he had come to the conclusion that he mustn't simply do well in this competition; he had to win to secure his freedom in the Capitolite society. Nothing had driven that home so fully as the setting for his date with Katelyn. His styling team ferried him into the back of the mansion (he noted with displeasure that they hadn't allowed him to be photographed on the iconic front steps - he was still not forgiven) and set to work. When they were done, Glamour stood in front of the full length mirror and cocked his head, nearly losing the hat they'd affixed to his skull.

"I wouldn't wear this to the gym!"

"That is the point," his stylist said acidly. Glamour understood. He couldn't look too much like his authentic self and actually make Panem believed that he loved Katelyn. He had to look rougher, manlier, straighter - nevermind that once upon a time he'd made Anarcha scream on a nightly basis.

When the stylists were replaced with Peacekeepers, guiding him to the foyer, Glamour reached behind his neck and popped the leather collar. To his surprise - and very minor relief - there were a few other Capitolite luminaries milling around, waiting for photos with them. No sign of President Snow and for the moment, no opportunity to be alone with Katelyn. He needed to be, to level with her and to find out if there was anything in the world he could offer her, but he dreaded it equally. After years of being an outcast, he had become acutely familiar with the crushing disappointment of having nothing to offer. It tasted like bile on the back of his tongue.

He introduced Katelyn to Cygnus the writer, Innocent the Peacekeeper and very nearly introduced her to Maverick Miles, before remembering that she would know him from his marriage to Topaz Ross. They stood for photos before a Peacekeeper arrived to escort them to the garden for light appetizers and drinks. Not dinner. More proof that he was one the first date of the night, the most likely to be eliminated.

When they passed the fragrant white roses, he thought about opening his palm on a thorn and painting it red with his own blood.

The garden had been decorated in whites and golds. A canopy had been erected and beneath, a buffet of small bites and a chilled bottle of champagne. He poured them each a glass, glanced at the food, and then inclined his head towards a nearby bench. "If you'd like," he said politely, and then realized he hadn't actually talked to her during the entire walk from the foyer to garden. He always had something to say, always filled up space with conversation. But his thoughts were a whirlpool of Leon, freedom, Katelyn, freedom.

The mansion was well guarded and the President's eyes an omnipresent force. Still, he couldn't see any Peacekeepers or the glint of a camera. This was as alone as he'd been with Katelyn since that very first night when he had 'kissed' her. He didn't think he'd won any favors from her for that performance, like he'd hoped. If anything she seemed to prefer him as he was in the Statue Garden, a little more subdued. He drummed his fingers once along the side of his flute, deciding between the two paths.

In the end, he decided on the mantra: fortune favors the bold.

He slid his free hand along Katelyn's back, resting his hand just above her far hip. With the lip of his champagne flute, his tapped the brim of his hat, sending it tumbling down his spine. He hoped his hair looked rugged and mussed, instead of flat hat hair, but that was a risk he was just going to take in order to see Katelyn more clearly. "So, Katelyn Persimmon, what are you thinking?"

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

All in all, it was not as bad as Katelyn had expected. She had thought that the size of the party would be on par with the crowning ceremonies, but it was a lot better. Not that many people, most of who were just looking for a photo op. Glamour introduced her to a few people and then they were led out to a garden that held a few refreshments. They were more alone then they had been for most of the competition. Even Tinselton didn’t seem to be hounding them. She supposed he didn’t really need to. This was President’s Snow’s mansion. Everything around them probably hid a camera. Whatever. Let them edit out whatever they wanted to for the show.

The outfit they had her in was very formal. Perhaps it’d even be considered business wear in some circles. Was there something she was missing here? At least it was comfortable. She sat on the bench that he’d offered and set down her flute on the side of it untouched. Glamour used his to touch his outfit, roguishly letting the hat fall off his head as he pulled her in and asked her what she was thinking.

Katelyn glanced down at his arm with a look that said she’d rather have Kanzutan coiled around her waist, but she let it be. “I'm thinking, Mr Kincade. That I don't understand how this constitutes a party." She replied dryly. Glamour seemed taken aback. "Are parties in Eleven really so very different? "Katelyn shrugged. "Well, in eleven it’s more about the food. Family. Friends. Remembering fond memories and making new ones. The conversations are genuine. Doesn't leave much room for posturing or backstabbing." She raised an eyebrow as someone passed them with a flick of the wrist wave.

"People are nice because they are. Not because they have to be."

Glamour blinked at her, messing with his jacket and sticking out his tongue as he set his champagne flute down. "There. Now, I can propose and we can begin our life in Eleven, just as it was meant to be." He grinned for a moment and then sobered. She wondered briefly if he’d heard a single word she’d said or if he was just pandering to the cameras. "If you think these parties are merely about posturing, I am not the only one who has something to learn from this contest, Katelyn. Maverick's love for Topaz is no more or less genuine than Harbinger's love for his wife, or... well, my love for you, of course." Katelyn turned her head slowly and affixed him with a piercing gaze. His face was red for some reason, but all she could think about was how his face would be that color if she was strangling him.

Katelyn could have said any number of things to throw him under the bus, but she relented in favor of better explaining herself. “I’m not saying people here can’t be genuine. But come on. You can’t tell me these things aren’t the perfect place to climb the social ladder.” She rolled her eyes. “I’ve had a hard time figuring you out, Mr. Kincade.” It was largely the only reason he’d lasted this far into the competition.

“Last I knew, you were chasing after a different victor.” Who was probably watching the show, so please forgive me she thought silently. “I don’t know what you see in me, but I’m inclined to think it’s not a romantic partner.” He didn’t strike her as a victor chaser, if he was there would have been more. She leaned in close and put her lips by his ear with a hiss. “So tell me. What do you see?”

"Don't put my story back on it's shelf
I was choked up but my tongue untied itself."

table coding (c) ghosty

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

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Glamour Kinkade

your compliments look good on me

[attr="class","Glamscroll"]

"But come on. You can’t tell me these things aren’t the perfect place to climb the social ladder."

"Better to climb the social ladder than end up on your ass at the bottom of it," he said. The words flew from his lips before he had properly reviewed them. It was the most honest thing he'd said to Katelyn Persimmon - perhaps the most honest thing he'd said to anyone in a long time. His gaze slide to the fountain, where he was such a camera was hidden. How would that play out? Had he sounded remorseful? Bitter? He'd seen the underbelly of social climbing and it was ugly. It made him want to forget it even more, to return the good graces of Capitolite society.

“I’ve had a hard time figuring you out, Mr. Kincade.”

By design, Glamour thought loudly before Katelyn lit a match. He was afraid to breathe, terrified that the air he expelled from his lungs had been laced with gasoline. She could immolate him right there, end his chance at redemption. It would be the perfect setting: the Capitolites at home, their screens split between the waning 73rd and the Bachelorette, holding their breaths as a tribute and Gamemaker fell to silence forever.

He was going to haunt the absolute shit out of Charles Tinselton.

But then Katelyn, in her signature style, moved from one difficult topic to another. He remembered to breathe and if he gasped a little, he prayed the commentator would think it was because he was so enamored with her. He chuckled, offered a playful, "oh, Katelyn" at the suggestion that he was not genuinely interested in being her husband.

"So tell me. What do you see?"

He muted the rest of the chuckle and slowly brought his gaze up to hers. He hoped she understood the goddamnit Katelyn written beneath the intensity of his full gaze. "You know exactly why I'm here, my dear. You're wrong about me. I do desperately want a partner - an equal partnership. I can see that with you. You are strong and beautiful and far more clever than you give yourself credit for. It is a wonder to me - and I'm sure all of Panem - that you've made it so long without a significant other. Snow knows I've had my share."

He winked to the fountain camera and finally let his hand fall from her hip. He angled his knees more sharply towards her, and opened both of his palms to her, resting them on his knees. "But we aren't - unfortunately - here to find out what I see. In this contest, you are the only beholder."

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

Unsurprisingly, he dodged the question with a chuckle as and a wave as if she had just made some kind of grand jest, before going on about her qualities at length. But she caught the harried look in his eyes. The one that begged her to read between the lines. There was something in his wording. A partnership? It wasn’t exactly romantic. The compliments he paid her were laid on a little thick, and she couldn’t shake what he had told her earlier in the competition. He knew how to play the game. Wanted to. She just didn’t know exactly why. And why her of all people? He continued being cagey, playing up the role to the cameras, saying that it didn’t matter what he saw, it only mattered what she did.

“You’re avoiding the question Mr.Kincade. Is it because of..?” she paused, crossing her arms and leaning back a little on the bench. After the debacle with Harbinger she was hesitant to bring another victor into the limelight. It was bad enough that Mace and Opal had been brought up at the start of the show; not to mention the emotion written on his face. She gave him a look but decided not to press the issue of his relationships. “Fine.” She said a little sharply. “We’ll talk about what I see.” Katelyn curved an eyebrow. “A former gamemaker who is still playing games. I should count myself lucky that you didn’t have a hand in my he-“ she cleared her throat and glanced in the direction of a camera.

“You, should count yourself lucky that I sent Harbinger home before he realized that you were among the architects of his arena.” she said, neatly biting her lower lip. What did Glamour want from her? Was she a ladder then? A means to an end? The problem with declaring that he wanted a partnership was that it implied that they would both get something out of it. Katelyn could guess at what he was looking for, but she was hard pressed to see what he was offering her beyond honeyed words. There was no substance.

“Look, I just don’t understand what you think makes you stand out from the pack. You’re not the only one who’s paid me in compliments, you know.” She hoped she didn’t sound haughty, but she had a sinking feeling that she did. Hopefully, she was speaking his language. If the man wanted to talk without cutting straight to the heart of things, she could humor him for a little while. If he was as good as he said he was, he'd be able to read between the lines as well and respond accordingly.  However, as late in the completion as it was, he really wasn’t giving her any reason to keep him around any longer. She could only take so much posturing. Especially when she was having to do it herself.  

"Don't put my story back on it's shelf
I was choked up but my tongue untied itself."

table coding (c) ghosty

[Baby Wessex d9b [earthling]]

[googlefont="Maven Pro:400"][newclass=.Glamscroll]background:none;[/newclass][newclass=.Glamscroll ::-webkit-scrollbar-thumb]border-radius: 5px; background-color:transparent!important;[/newclass][newclass=.Glamscroll ::-webkit-scrollbar]width: 2px;[/newclass][newclass=.Glamscroll ::-webkit-scrollbar-track] background-color: #3e375f;[/newclass]

Glamour Kinkade

your compliments look good on me

[attr="class","Glamscroll"]

“You’re avoiding the question Mr.Kincade. Is it because of..?”

He couldn't say honestly that he'd never thought of strangling someone before. A few dirty tributes, Dick Tucker, Caeser Flickerman (when he insisted on pushing his own agenda ahead of Glamour's dignity). Still, he hadn't thought of lunging at Katelyn before as he did now. Not that he would. The fantasy was enough comfort. She stopped just short of executing him, which was ironic, given his train of thought. He couldn't find any relief or gratitude; she had walked him onto the podium, demanded he kneel, and put his head on the block. That she also raised the weapon was entirely unsporting.

He stared at her flatly until she changed tactic.

A former Gamemaker who still played Games? You don't say. He sighed at the mention of Harbinger Rhodes. At least one of his tributes had realized the darkest truth: without a victor, he wasn't a Gamemaker, either. He had no desire for Harbinger to die or to suffer - given the chance, he'd plead with him to live, as he'd done with Peridot. It would be easier if I were his enemy, he thought, but couldn't quite say in the stream of her words.

He was still chewing on a way to convey that very thought without getting himself expelled to Twelve when she came to the conclusion of her thoughts.

And for the first time, he listened.

"You want to know why I want to win this competition?" He asked, each word enunciated. He tapped his lips to keep himself from laughing and straightened his back. He sheathed the daggers in his eyes, let himself smile his characteristically cheeky smile. "You want someone to win. My my. For a minute there you had me fooled. Hard to do, Miss Persimmon. I thought you the spine of the victors, the dissenter, the judge of our Games shenanigans. Seems it just wasn't the right type of game for you, but the President always finds his mark. No matter. No need to waste a rose on me," he said, bending forward to tease the petals of a nearby white rose. "I've plenty of my own."

He stood, took two steps, and twirled in his usual fashion, coming to a stop in a half-bow to her. "And when do you marry the Capitolite of your dreams in your designer dress, flanked by your styling team, do look for me in the audience. I've always loved a happy ending."

[charade]

KATELYN PERSIMMON

Katelyn blinked, at a loss for words.

She had only wanted him to be honest about something, about the way he intended to use her, because it was clear he had an agenda. And here he was making her sound like some sort of airheaded tart. She was furious. It should have been evident from the look in her eyes, the way her back had straightened out and how her nostrils were flaring with each breath. Oh, he thought he had her over a barrel, and maybe he did. The term social assassination came to mind.

But the people watching wouldn’t take his word for it now would they? Or perhaps he was right. Maybe the show was meant to portray her as some pansy socialite who was looking for a fairy tale ending. She seethed internally. Glamour personified everything she hated about the Capitol. And to save face from what he just said, she’d have to play just as hard. It was the only language he appeared to understand. She stared at him coolly before looking down at the floor.

Then, without warning, she leapt out of her seat and pounced on him.

The force knocked him to the ground and she kept him there, pinning his hips with her knees and putting her right forearm across his throat. Her other hand she raised as if she was going to slap him, but let it drop slowly instead and gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him off the floor a little. “Why Glamour dear, it’s not even the finale. It’d be a shame to come so close only to finish second.” She said with a coo, enunciating each syllable like he had a moment ago. Katelyn shook her head coyly and gave him a smile that would have frozen blood.

“But I guess your lovers would know all about that disappointment, now wouldn’t they?” She let go of his shirt roughly, making him slam against the floor and put a hand to her mouth. “I think you like me, but you’re afraid of me. Or the idea of me.” She said that to the camera as much as the former gamemaker in front of her. She knew it was a lie. Glamour wasn't on the show for her. But what was the phrase Tinselton had used? Belligerent sexual tension? Let them think it was that. Fine by her. The hell with the Capitol, the hell with Tinselton, the hell with Glamour Kincade. Let the mask slip further, let them be reminded of why they were making her do the show in the first place.

“Maybe I’m just out of your league.”

Katelyn pulled a flower out of her purse and tossed the rose at his face.

“See you at the finale loverboy. Try to keep up.” she said huskily before she got to her feet and stomped away from the bench, off camera and away from the room. Katelyn regretted the action almost immediately, knowing that she’d have to send someone home in his stead, but she just couldn’t let his last moment on the show be like that, couldn’t let it be known that she had eliminated him because he had gotten to her. It would have made her look weak. Clearly, he had wanted to be eliminated, but the way he had gone about it meant that she simply had to keep him around for one more day, even if what she had just done made her feel filthy.

And now, she’d make sure to keep her guard up.

As far as she was concerned, Glamour was the enemy.

"Don't put my story back on it's shelf
I was choked up but my tongue untied itself."

table coding (c) ghosty