We met upon a hill, the night was cool and still

[molotov]

Who| Molotov and Black Tom
What| An alliance ends... sort of
Where| Only Bath Salts, obviously the most useful store in the mall
When| Week 4
Warnings/Notes| Lots of murder talk

After killing the kid in the alarm chaos, Molotov found the safest spot she could, and waited. When the mall opened and the noise faded away, she promptly fell asleep, ears still ringing, and woke up several hours later feeling amazing.

That hadn't faded away. She had needed the rest, and now her body is back to fighting condition. Which is important, because she has goals in mind, targets and missions and ideas. Molotov with ideas is a dangerous beast.

She goes to the department store for new clothes first -- hers are pretty much trash by now, covered in dried blood. When she leaves, hours later, she's (fairly) clean, thanks to the bathrooms, fully made up and dressed in white. The only indicators that she's recently been coated in blood multiple times are the red smears she's missed behind her ears and on the sides of her neck, and the places in her hair where blood has matted it down near her hairline, visible even when she's pulled it all up.

Now she tracks, following Tom until he's isolated and far from everyone, in a place where she can easily drop down from the kind of high-vantage perches she likes, so that she's right behind him, one thin arm reaching to snake around him.

"I've been counting cannons."

Comments

[molotov]

"I think you'd have to brush up on your obstetrics knowledge. That's the only way you're getting close enough to snatch a newborn, I would think." She laughs a little. "Do you really want to be that close to a birth, though? I've heard it's a messy business."

[pimpcanes]

"I could fake it." He laughs back. "Do you think I'd have become a mercenary if I weren't capable of handing messy business? It's hardly the life if you want to keep your clothing clean and your mind pure."

[molotov]

"I think there's a difference between blood splatter and placenta!" She pinches him, still laughing. "You can get a white coat, talk about disgusting things like dilation. Everyone will buy it, I'm sure."

[pimpcanes]

He squirms away from her pinch, a wide smile crossing his face. "I've gone undercover often enough that it can't be too difficult, can it?"

[molotov]

"Depends on how hard it is to get some woman who's never met you to let you help her push out a baby. I can't say I have experience, but I think you'll have to fake your credentials for about seven or eight months."

She smiles too, curls up against him, and taps her finger on his chest. "So I think I have to dare you to do it."

[pimpcanes]

"Who says I can't just feign being a nurse and slip in while the doctor's busy getting coffee and doing paperwork?"

Okay, he probably doesn't have the bedside manner to be a nurse, but still.

"In Panem, or if we're freed?" Once they're freed. Eventually.

[molotov]

"Oh, you'll be much too famous to pull it off here. They'll recognize you by your accent alone, forget about your face." Molotov is very suddenly struck with the realization that they are in the Arena, probably on camera, that they aren't alone and simply talking.

"I bet they're watching us now."

[pimpcanes]

"Of course they are." He glances up towards the ceiling, although he understands that to be stupid, actually. The media footage of Tributes is rarely from above.

"You have a lot of faith that they'll remember us in a few months."

[molotov]

"Because we don't stop being famous when the Arena is over." She shrugs. "Besides, you'll have to go back into the next Arena when you don't win. So get used to the spotlight, because you're stuck in it. Even Victors are celebrities here."

[pimpcanes]

"How many celebrities can they keep straight? There are already a hundred of us and God knows how many deceased has-beens." He snorts and shakes his head. "You know, I'm not accustomed to the public eye like this."

[molotov]

"You'd be surprised. Anyway, if you want to win, you have to stay in the public's good graces, or you won't get any sponsors."

Molotov laughs and tightens her arm around him for a moment. "Well, being famous isn't exactly conducive to working in the shadows."

[pimpcanes]

"I'll trust you as the expert on this." He smirks and drags his fingertip across her lower lip. "It can be conducive to certain influence, I'm guessing."

[molotov]

She kisses his finger as he moves it over her lip, and smiles. "Very conducive to that, and luckily, it's what we need in this place."