thearena | [open] And think well, yes think as you are fighting

Entry tags:

[open] And think well, yes think as you are fighting

Who| Phillip Gray and open
What| Surviving and other errands, along with a Valentine's delivery
Where| All over the Arena
When| End of Week 3 (Valentine's) Twelve hours before Nick Sr. finds him
Warnings/Notes| Arena shenanigans and flashbacks of his home

Lasting this long in the Arena, almost three weeks surviving, Phil uncovered his mouth to let out a soft chuckle. He'd joked with Piers Nivans that he'd only last two weeks tops back at the Crowning, that he wasn't much to behold. Dandy called him fodder for killers, that there wasn't any other place for him in this world unless he was guilty of something. But Nivans was dead, and Gray had watched Mott die. It wasn't a natural transition for him, Gray admitted as he'd patched Venus up that day, to go from having basically no agency on whether he lived or died to making choices, good or bad. It felt...liberating. It felt so good that his chuckle became a full-on laughing fit that toppled him onto the ground. He was alone, with the cameras watching, so he uttered a thanks to the viewers, well aware that someone on the other side of the lens would hear him. He also said it to the people that helped him get this far: to Sandy, Milo, and every Sponsor Stephen sent. Phil owed them his life and come hell or high water, he'd stand by them.

A Sponsor packet drifted across the sky, almost dancing, prompting Gray to sit up. "Small one," he figured and got back to his feet. All he had of his original Cornucopia bounty was the bag it came in, he'd left the tent in Sandy's care to free up the carrying space. As Phil opened the package the moment it landed, the smell of flowers invaded his sense of smell, reminding him of his last Valentine's Day. It'd been the year of the first dead child and he still remembered how her eyes lit up at the sight. "Erm," he had an embarrassed look on his face, especially when the tag read his name, "Two dozen roses..." That was two bouquets to do as he pleased with. Checking his wares and confirming he had enough food and water to last him a day, Phillip decided to make a trip. He knew exactly who to give these to. As a professional thank you of course! Nothing else.

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Sigma heard the laugh long before he saw the sponsor drone, and the cyborg hits the meadow grass hard, hoping to conceal himself from the madman at a distance. He lays undignified in the dirt to eavesdrop on the other Tribute - he is not close and the words are indistinct, but he suddenly realizes that the Tribute is not threatening someone else, but is speaking cheerfully to the cameras. The laugh had been familiar, actually; not unlike how Sigma himself had reacted to the presence of puzzle rooms. The Doctor smirks to himself and decides hiding might be a waste of time.

Then from the sky the drone descends and Sigma kneels to observe. Phillip's bouquet is a red blot on the horizon and for a moment, Sigma wonders if the drone had somehow injured him. His sight is not what it once was, and it isn't until he zooms in with his mechanical eye that he notices the other Tribute had received a Valentine's Day gift. It's Sigma's turn to laugh; he will not be expecting any of those, himself.

His heartrate back to normal, Sigma rises slowly to his feet, backpack slung across his shoulder. He had pledged to make a kill this Arena, but the Tribute's good mood takes the wind out of that promise. Instead, Sigma begins to walk towards him, waving pleasantly before he can get close enough to speak. He attempts to be as nonthreatening as a man with a security camera for an eye can be. Just passing through.

It's not his business, but he'll break the ice with curiosity. He shouts across the gap between them: "A gift from someone special?"

The greeting was a surprise and Phillip immediately raised his hunting knife in case it was an actively aggressive Tribute. This was still an Arena after all and many of those Gray cared about were injured, lost, or dead. Thanks to the bouquets on his back though, he doesn't look as intimidating as he'd wanted to. Spotting the camera in the eye, the former guard blinked; was this strange man a cyborg like Jet and Albert? No, he looks much older than those two...probably more experienced and would likely kill Phil if he made a stupid decision.

Sigma's question is replied with a confused but honest answer, "I dunno, it's strange but...I'm gonna go out of a limb and say they wanted to spread some Valentine cheer. I-I'd be surprised if I had fans at all!" Seeing as this newcomer wasn't actively trying to kill or dupe him, Phil sheathed his weapon, and added, "Are you lost?"

Sigma stops abruptly as Phillip raises the knife, not so much alarmed as wary. He knew how a Tribute looked when they were at the end of their rope, when they were prepared to tear their opponent apart by their teeth, and this man did not fit that description. Sigma manages a courteous smile as Phillip answers his question nonetheless, pleased he had backed down. The cyborg had come to rely on his physical strength rather than a weapon these days, but getting stabbed at his age was... unpleasant.

"Are you a new Tribute? Perhaps it is a welcoming gift. And, no, I am not lost. I was hoping I could find something of a 'weapon' in the toxic flora," he points to the field of wildflowers, in the distance behind Phillip. "A few Arenas ago, I came across a book that went over toxic plants in great detail. It was quite useful. Regrettably, I did not have a bouquet drop from the sky." Sigma grinned. He did not mean to insinuate that Phillip's flowers were poisonous, only that there could be a number of creative applications with a Valentine's Day gift. "A long story made short: forgive me. I did not intend to startle you."

"Bouquets are still deadly, you know? Allergies, jam the thorns into the-" The guard hadn't noticed that and made a mental note not go near those flowers. They were pretty. Phil's expression didn't leave much down, "Is it that obvious?" Being one of the newer tributes probably made him easier picking once upon a time but hey, he was learning. Aside from the camera eye, Sigma looked like a scientist or a professor at some high-end college.

"It's all right, I spook easy," Phil admitted, knowing his nerves were shot even before the Arena reared its' cold head. "Sir." Somehow he figured that, along with the image of the scientist, it'd help to use formalities.

Sigma is flattered when he is spoken to with respect, and smiles politely back at Philip. Perhaps the other man knew who he was - or, conversely, it was because the man didn't know his identity that he was being treated kindly. No matter. He would take what he was given.

This Tribute was already getting the hang of thinking outside the box, it seemed. "Do not worry. It had nothing to do with your behavior per se - In fact, I would go so far as to say that you are already preforming much better than I did in my first Arena. You see, I have been in ten of them, now, so I have come to learn the faces of my competitors. With such a high turnover rate, one loses allies quickly..." He holds out his hand in greeting. It's still awkward to make physical contact with new acquaintances, but if he were to lower the chances of making a dangerous enemy, he'd have to make the effort to be charming. "My name is Sigma Klim. Welcome."

"Phillip Gray, and," the former guard hesitated before shaking the hand, understandably so, "Holy crap, ten arenas. Damn that's impressive. You've probably seen everything under the sun."

That same part of the brain that told Gray to be formal was now telling him that, even if it's for this one arena, Sigma was a good ally to have. "This place isn't safe out in the open. I, uh, got what I needed and whatever's happening, I don't want a part in."

Especially the possibility of murdering kids. That disgusted him to no end.

Sigma draws his hand away a little too quickly, but it isn't from disgust or from a dislike of Phillip. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Gray. It may sound impressive... until you consider that I'm still here," he laughs bitterly. "No victories in ten Arenas... I suppose my age is catching up to me. But, I can impart some advice, if you'd like to hear it." There was something Phillip needed to know if he was going to make a sweeping statement about the Games like that.

He agrees with finding some shelter, of course. "Let us find a place to hide, first. Assuming you are comfortable with me joining you for a short time." He is careful not to sound anxious or as if denying him would make him angry. It's all up to Phillip.

Working in a place where the high turnover rate was less to do with bad coworkers and more about murder, Phil didn't question the quick withdrawal. "If you say so sir." He still had his own doubts about Sigma's intentions but he won't say no to any advice, "I would like to, if you're, um, offering. More the merrier, unless you have an idea to stake out."

Knowing nothing about the cyborg's past was both a blessing and a curse. He could as what he wanted, a clean slate...but what if he was walking into his own death? Phillip chose the former and allowed his temporary companion the benefit of the doubt.

Sigma nods in satisfaction. "Wonderful. Then let us head towards the mountain," there was a small, mountainous area east of the lake, not too far a hike from their current location. Like the barrier to the west, it was not worth the energy to surmount, but its rocky terrain made for relatively safe overnight stays. Back to where it all began, he thought. "On my last visit, I found a rather comfortable den. If another beast has beaten us to it, well, at least I shall eat well for several days, again," he jokes. "...Please, do not worry. With two sets of eyes, we should be safe. Ready?"

"I'm ready," Gray responded with a nod and ready to follow as he needed. Though wary at first to climb anything after Nick's prank, he wasn't that much a sourpuss to let it stick.

As soon as they were close, his mind slips to Venus, and the eight arenas she'd experienced along with Sigma's. Hell, this was the reason he was delivering these roses in the first place: to at least give her something to that effect. This was his way of acknowledging his gratitude for not dumping his scrawny ass to the curb as others might have.

"You've killed some of these?" Now he's impressed.

Sigma hesitates before answering. "...In the first week, yes. My arms are not organic." He is certain, a metal eye decorating his face and all, he does not need to explain himself to Phillip. "My body is considerably stronger than it appears. Of course, even beasts believe an elderly man is an easy target; I suffered a bite or two for their mistake, but that will not kill me." He displays a rip in the side of his sleeve nonchalantly... before his face creases with concern. "...But the animals have changed, recently. I may still be able to take them down, but the marked shift in behavior is... alarming, to say the least."

As though the mutts were 'programmed' to become more aggressive as time marched on. What sort of creatures would they deal with as the Arena drew to a close? The thought is cut short as Sigma finds his cave, a hole dug downwards into the megalith by eons of some species' burrowing instinct. It was wide enough for two people, but it might be a bit of a tight squeeze. "Ah, vacancies. Excellent."

To think that Capitol could have that much control over the pieces in the Arena made Phil shudder, "...That sounds disturbing to say the least. I can believe your strength but everything has a limit."

As soon as the cave was spotted, the guard studied the opening and checked it out before letting Sigma lead the way. He wasn't that keen on closed spaces, but this is what they needed if he was going to live a little longer. "Snug but I'm good...and no bugs, better."

Sigma rather enjoyed that (if unintentional) pun, and laughs quietly to himself. After so many years in isolation, he still enjoyed the simple things. "Yes, I could do without those. In these Arenas, everything is a potential threat. That aside, there weren't many bugs where I was from, and I am not fond of them..."

Sigma pulls his backpack from his shoulders and places it between them to give the both of them the benefit of a boundary. It was not an uncrossable line, of course; more reassurance that Sigma had no intention of getting too close with the weapons he hid in his bag. "So. I am not certain if you are aware- and if you are not, I do not intend to start off our alliance with bad news-" he chooses the word "alliance" carefully, as he knew friendship was often too strong a word for the partnerships that occurred in the Arenas- "But, you should know that there are consequences to not participating in the fight."

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Unbeknownst to Venus, she's going to die today - but you wouldn't know it from looking at her. Far from the frail and shellshocked attack victim she was when Phil last saw her, she seems vivacious and full of energy again. Only the slight hollow of her eyes and the bulk of bandages around her waist speak to the close encounter she had only six days ago.

Each day, Phil comes to visit her, but this time she goes to him, seeking him out by the footprints he left leaving her tree with Albert and Jet last night. The night hasn't seen fit to undo them quite yet.

She knows better than to sneak up on anyone in the Arena, so she doesn't cover his eyes and ask "guess who?". Instead, she knocks on a tree behind him, face wide with a grin. "Guess what I got?"

Phillip immediately hid the flowers out of sheer reflex when he heard Venus from behind him. He didn't think she'd actually follow him after her recovery, and so soon! But to see her so full of life again was always a delight for the former night guard. He always made the trip over to check on her, climbing over and changing any bandages that needed it. Maybe try a few bad pun jokes to make her smile again, it was good for her health, you know?

"Did a secret admirer send you a love note?" Gray teased, trying to be a smooth player sort of man, and failing miserably at it. "Or chocolates? Those are always good Valentine's gifts."

He had no way of knowing they'd both die, and by varied means.

If he's slipping up on being smooth, she doesn't seem to notice. She's all the more interested in approaching him with a sort of high school giddiness.

"Better." Now that he knows it's her and isn't about to jump away from her, she doesn't mind surprising him, and so she pops an earbud right there into his ear and clicks 'play'. A familiar tune by O-Town starts to play.

"Huh?"

The way Phillip lit up at hearing something familiar, even if it was in passing, it was as if they weren't in the frozen wasteland the Capitol created. In his mind, they were on some park, listening to a shared cassette player. He could smell the cheap food and the swaths of color that were present in his timeline. The smile on Gray's lips seemed to take years away from his face as he closed his eyes to hear the long-forgotten boy band croon. This unconscious gesture alone demonstrated how much the man had grown to trust Venus.

"You got a walkman?" He completely dated himself in that moment then but the surprise came when it wasn't such an antique device. "Whoa, what is that?"

Looking at that smile brings one of Venus' own to her face, something relieved and happy to have created something good, even if it's just a flicker of true happiness across a friend's face.

"It's an iPod. Like a walkman, but it holds a few thousand songs." It's an iTouch, actually, which she isn't terribly familiar with but is getting the hang of rather quickly - it's pretty intuitive. "You got any requests?"

"A few thou-wow, I am so behind on everything," Phil said with a sense of wonder, he was completely fascinated by the device just as he'd been with the simulator back at the Training Center. Had he stayed in his world, he wouldn't have seen such convenience. "Okay, iPod, right."

"Uh, got any Toni Braxton? Or Sinead O'Connor?" he then smiled at her, "Or anything with Duran Duran or David Bowie?" No one could argue the value of having Ziggy Startdust in their iPod thingies.

A pinprick on his back reminded Gray of the delivery he was supposed to make, turning his face a soft sort of pink. It was even worse with the cold, and brighter by the second. "Uh, um...before that..."

Come on Phillip, you can do this. This is a completely professional giving of flowers...on Valentine's in a death arena, that was his self-motivation now as he carefully drew out one of the cumbersome bouquets out for Venus.

"F-For you," And he hoped to a God that probably didn't exist (or was far too amused to care) that he didn't trip on his words. "T-thanks for-uh, helping me." Uh huh.

"I don't know, I haven't really checked it out yet!" Venus takes an earbud from him and puts it in her own ear, scrolling through the old classic iPod with the little clicking wheel. Names, all names she recognizes and a few she met back in her Hollywood days, roll by.

She's used to taking proposals graciously, and so by instinct her mouth makes a surprised 'o', her eyebrows lift, and she takes the flowers. She looks down at them, sniffs them, closes her eyes as the genetically-modified scent from the Capitol, like roses but amplified to the point of heady richness, fills her nose.

"I think I'll just let my girl Alanis speak for me." She turns on 'Thank U' by Alanis Morrisette, letting the tinny beat fill his ears.

Venus would be treated to the sight of Phil smiling through the roses she held, and the way his face betrayed his joy and mortification of it all. Out of all the ordeals he'd experienced in the Arena, handing over the flowers was probably the most nervewrecking. To see her enjoy the gift, sparked something in him all over again. Was it the same feeling he'd had back in Milo's hideout, a little flame of something more than just companionship? He didn't dare answer the question then, but maybe he could consider it now.

"Alanis always did have a way with words," Phillip listened, losing his sense of location all over again. His throat was drier now, even with the recent drink he'd had before finding the flowers. "I suppose we have time for a few songs before we, uh, join the fray, right?"

"Sure. I can listen for trouble with one ear. We probably don't have much longer on this iPod before the battery runs out and, well." She gestures at the wilderness around them. "Not much we can do with that."

For a moment she pauses, and something in the air seems to hang heavy, heavy but not sorrowful. She sniffs her roses, stroking them like a cat almost. "Thanks for saving my life earlier."

She hadn't been sure she'd wanted him to.

Phil was about to agree with Venus and even play with the device, to figure out what made it work, until he heard her thank him for his help. The man blinked for a moment, almost uncertain of what had gone through his mind when he found her, or why was he going there in the first place. In fact, it went against everything he was supposed to do in the Games, at least according to what others had warned him.

"You're welcome," he did his best to hide the slight tinge again, "I-I couldn't just leave you like that. You're a good contender and, um..."

Yes, because this is totally the moment to be a professional, his mind recreated Jeremy in all his blood-soaked glory, to which Phil mentally hissed at him to be quiet. And made a note to go to a doctor because one shouldn't argue with dead coworkers who embodied everything wrong with their past.

"You're my friend," the Phone Guy finally admitted, hearing the song play on as a way to "As childish as that is. Oh God, I walk into messes, don't I? Professional acquaintances, yes, that's a better one."

Oh he was flustered all right.

She doesn't tease him when he says that she's his friend, because she's glad he said it before she did. He took the risk in defining their relationship into something she wanted anyway.

"Please," she says, soft and purring because that's how she's always related to men best, with a bit of enticing tint. "You would have saved me whether or not I was a contender, or whether or not I was your friend. That's just the kind of guy you are. You don't stand there and let people bleed out if they don't deserve it."

(Like Dandy did.)

"I bet someone back there in the Capitol is drawing pictures of us smooching right now." Or worse. Capitolite Hunger Games fans have intense imaginations.

That alluring voice made Phillip laugh along, "Maybe I'm just a bleeding heart, huh? I'm not gonna last very long, a-am I?" He then tried to be as suave as Clark Gable, "But frankly, my dear, I don't give a damn. It's the way I am, honor-bound and-"

The comment about the smooches would cause all that gallant posturing to collapse on its' own weight, and Phil cover his eyes with his hands. She always managed to get him in that vulnerable state as he babbled, "D-don't say that, I almost forgot this isn't a private listening experience." He did let Venus see his smile though: his usual but maybe laced with the curiosity of kissing anyone, let alone her, after going without such a touch for as long as he did. Gray shot that thought process down immediately, murder arena and such.

"They...actually do that? Like draw Tributes into soap opera couples or something?" he asked, "This is so weird, I don't think I-I'll ever get used to that."