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[the_marshal]

Who| Wyatt and... you?
What| Planning his next step
When| The day after the Cornucopia
Where| Let's say S4
Warnings/Notes| None

He'd survived the Cornucopia, and the subsequent swim to the next island. The cut on his arm had been dealt with (hopefully the salt water had cleaned it well enough to keep infection at bay) and the long night, spent just inside the tree line, had been uneventful if restless.

Now, with the sun already on its ascent through the startlingly blue sky, Wyatt stood in the sand, looking out at the rolling waves. Hunger was a gentle itch, scratching at the back of his gut that he could ignore for awhile yet, but thirst, well, that was going to be problem. And soon.

Mustache quirking thoughtfully, he ran a hand over his hair and sighed.

Shoud he follow the beach? Or head deeper into the trees?

Comments

[the_marshal]

There were little skittering crabs racing across the sand, waving their mismatched claws menacingly as Wyatt passed.

He was just giving consideration as the best way to catch one when he spotted the figure - cast long and dark in the slant of the sun - in the distance.

Touching his belt, fingertips resting on the hard handle of his knife, he slowed, stopped, and waited, his eyes narrowed against the glare and watching the stranger's approach carefully.

He'd gotten lucky before, managing to come across a fellow tribute with no immediate interest in murder, but what were the odds he'd do so again?

[cowardfacinghappiness]

Momoko paused in her own movements as the man stopped and simply stared. What was he waiting for? He didn't look the type to believe her as a threat, so she doubted he was frightened. Although certainly some of the Tributes were more than they appeared, so maybe she could bluff her way through this encounter after all?

He had a knife--or something with a handle, anyway, looked short enough to be called a knife from this distance, but she took a chance and started forward again anyway, making sure not to show any fear. She could probably outrun him, at least for long enough to get to cover, if things went badly but at this point she needed to start either making allies again or at least a reputation.

If nothing else, death by stabbing was probably a better way to go than suffocation alone in the dark.

[the_marshal]

Without all the lace and fluff it took him a minute, but as she drew nearer - chin out, nose up - he finally placed her. The young woman from 7, the one with the parasol.

(Unbidden, Wyatt wondered if being without it made her feel anything like he did without his hat and the corner of his mustache quirked.)

While he didn't particularly think he had to worry about this one, not directly anyways, but he knew enough to recognize a woman workin' up a head of steam when he saw one. He was in her sights.

For what though - if not the obvious?

Obligingly, he waited, an eyebrow lifting once she was close enough to see it.

[cowardfacinghappiness]

She stopped at what she judged a careful distance, a few feet, and put her hands on her hips. "Well," she demanded, deciding to let him set the tone. If he made any threatening movements she could make for the trees or the water, whichever seemed safest.

[the_marshal]

His other eyebrow joined the first, jerking up toward his hairline in surprise.

"I'm sorry," he replied, blinking and amused. "Can I help you, Miss?"

He had a flash of Dodge, of working his rounds, and of patiently hearing out the stories of some imagined slight or other.

[cowardfacinghappiness]

"Are you going to attack or not?" she asked, deciding to get it out of the way. "I don't have all day." Not that she had any real pressing concerns other than finding food and a better hiding spot for the night.

[the_marshal]

All puffed up like a kicked cat, he half expected her to hiss and bare her teeth.

"Hadn't much planned on it," he replied, lips twitching, tone baiting. He couldn't help himself; her indignation just tickled him. "But I 'spose I could change my mind if yer really so keen."

[cowardfacinghappiness]

She crossed her arms, annoyed. Was there really so few people being picked to fight willing to actually fight? That seemed like poor casting. "What were you planning then?" she asked, ignoring his offer to attack anyway. "Long walks on the beach until you're eaten by a shark?" Or whatever other horrible things they had here. Momoko was avoiding the water as much as possible for a reason.

[the_marshal]

"As opposed to walkin' up to everybody askin' if they'd like to kill me?" He grinned. "Yes, yes, I reckon I like my plan better."

[cowardfacinghappiness]

"Not much of a plan, just waiting around." She carefully didn't mention how that was essentially her plan for the moment, except when she had brief bouts of potentially fatal restlessness. "Is that how you intend to win?" Not the most subtle of interrogations but it wasn't as though Momoko had a lot to work with.

[the_marshal]

"It's how I intend to go on, Miss," he replied simply.

He honestly hadn't given much thought to winning, per say. Just surviving. Coming out of this the man he'd walked in. No more, and certainly no less.

"But then, that is just me, and by all means, it's a big beach, don't let me stop your quest for excitement." Had he his hat, he might have tipped it, but, seeing as he didn't, he just gave her a polite nod, and moved to step around her.