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.
no subject
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."
no subject
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."
no subject
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.
no subject
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.
no subject
"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.
no subject
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.
no subject
no subject
"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.