Phillip Gray | Phone Guy [AU] (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
voiceinthephone) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
thearena2015-02-15 01:52 am
voiceinthephone) wrote in thearena2015-02-15 01:52 am
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.
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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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.
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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."
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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."
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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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Phillip was holding on that he wouldn't have to hurt anyone, or at least hold off the killing until there was no way out of it. And THEN he'd put up a good fight."What kind of consequences are you talking about though?" he swallowed for a moment, "Is this enough?" He had to admit, he was morbidly curious.
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In the actual Games however, he probably should've kept his mouth shut. "B-But I understand what you mean. Do the effort...no one gets in trouble."
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He lifts his eyes from his backpack and meets Phillip's gaze at last. "My first Arena, I decided not to kill, believing a pacifistic strategy might gain me allies. After my death, my son and his mother were selected as Tributes. They were both targeted by the Gamemakers and did not last long." The implication being that one of them had already passed before they arrived, but he does not go into detail. "Loved ones are not restricted to the Arena, either. After I decided to play the game as it was meant to be played, an old girlfriend of mine was brought here for a month. Afterwards, she..." He pretends to sound grateful. The Capitol paid no attention to subtlety, anyway. "...Was returned home safely." He smiles wryly. "Either way, it pays to be a real contender."
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"I-I see. They really do own us, don't they," he tried to keep a confident smile. But in the end, it was just like home. The Capitol was just more blatant in exerting its' control.
"Why are you telling me this? I appreciate it, sir, but...I'm the competition."
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Of course, he would say nothing about trying to evaluate the content of Phillip's character. If a Rebellion were going to rise and Tributes came and went, they would need to make sympathizers of the new players... "...As for why I have no desire to kill you, most Tributes despise me and nights are much easier to survive with a partner. Two can swap shifts between sleeping and playing watchmen - and I can bank on you being unable to slit my throat as I rest."
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The guard may have his own personal demons and, if pushed by those who hurt a child in his presence, a manipulative streak a mile wide. But aside from that, he was as honest and blue-collar as Sigma would ever find. It wasn't because this was his first Arena and had never taken a life before. He went in like this after the five-year stint that was the haunted pizzeria and facing the murderous robots head on every night. The man's resolve was both endearing and maddening to those who knew him.
"You can rest assured, I don't need much sleep, I can manage the first turn."
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Unsuccessful humour attempted and failed, Sigma is back to business. "I was prepared to offer the first watch, but if you would prefer it, it is a waste of energy to argue. Do be sure to get enough sleep when you are able, though. You may yet end up looking like me."
...Now he's flushed the sarcasm out of his system.
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The concept of a fanbase was...interesting for Phillip to say the least. "That's an actual thing? With Tributes?" he asked as he shifted towards the entrance of their makeshift hideout, "Even newbies?" He wasn't that confident about his own public persona, simply because he was used to being behind the scenes even as a manager.
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"Ah... I suppose that would be the case..." he mutters sheepishly. He's grateful for another question to answer. "Oh, yes. We are regular characters to these people. A handsome young man such as yourself is bound to have some immediate admirers..." Sigma smirks knowingly. "Who knows? You may get some valuable survival gifts out of it. Or, perhaps, you'll find your face plastered on the side of a cologne advertisement. Either way, prepare yourself for the attention." Sigma had always found the advertisements he'd been in as an overwhelming invasion of his privacy, and thought Phillip would want to be warned beforehand.
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Strangely enough, death was a more comfortable subject for the former phone guy than it was to be regarded as a celebrity. "I can accept th-the gifts just fine! The ads...don't they have their own for that? Stars, models, you know?! Thanks for the head's up, because I'm trying to figure things out here, the Capitol is a whole other can of worms. Especially...bidding."
That one terrified Phil to no end: whatever power of choice he had here? Taken again.
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"Sounds like stardom's going to be one hell of a journey, all things considered. Better than notoriety, I suppose," the former phone guy smirked right back.