[UNRECORDED]

[weyountrinket]

It's been... a fair amount of time since Weyoun's last seen District 12. He admittedly hadn'y paid all that much attention to the scenery on his way home, the morning after Caro's return and that dreadful 'celebration' the night of. And he couldn't say he was exactly sorry to see it go. 12 is generally miserable from what he could tell, filled with miserable people - and whiile he felt sympathetic to their plight, also finds he has a kneejerk hatred of what they've done to two certain Victors. He's madder on Caro's behalf than Walter's... but he's still actually mad for Sullivan, despite whatever problems he has with the man himself.

Returning to the Capitol and his normal life comes with its own set of problems, however. He quickly finds himself even more overwhelmed by his already-busy social schedule. Why, he was the escort for the winning District, of course he has to show up to three million parties he'd rather not. And laugh and network with three million people he'd rather never interact with, ever, and keep a close eye on every thing he says and does lest he let the wrong thing slip to the wrong person. It's really rather exhausting keeping up with the social politics of the Capitol. It's even moreso when one's close friend is Amber Sweet, and one gets stuck with occasionally tracking her down when she's in an alley scoring.

He's never sure how he really gets her back in the states she's always in, drugged out and generally either uncooperative or just out of it entirely. He never quite gets past the looming judgement of his father - but he's never quite sure if he's damning himself with this friendship or not. He simply knows his father is judging.

It doesn't take long for him to be entirely exhausted of his life, his family, and himself. But it's Amber that actually gives him the solution, even if she might not remember it.

It's after a night of particularly hard partying. Weyoun's already got her back to her apartment and sent those goddamn obnoxious bodyguards away to be obnoxious elsewhere. He slumps on the edge of her bed and rubs his hands over his face. It's time for 'keep Amber from doing things her father will regret'. It's weyoun's least favorite game.

"Weyouuunnn," Amber whines from somewhere behind him, in a tone of voice that he knows by now means 'still fairly high.'

"Whatever it is the answer is emphatically no." He removes his glasses to rub his eyes. What time is it, anyway? 3, 4 in the morning?

"You don't even know what I'm going to say!" He can hear the pout without ever having to see it. "Why aren't you any fun?"

"I don't need to." Which is true. Whatever it is she wants when she's like this, he's having none of it. "I'm tired, Amber. I can't do this anymore."

She sounds both petulant and maybe a little concerned, despite the fact she's still slurring quite a bit. "Can't do what?"

"Everything," He admits, flopping backwards to stare at the ceiling. He can't remember when the last time he actually slept was. "My life. This."

Of course she's got to roll over and mess with his hair. Weyoun rolls his eyes and she smacks him on the shoulder.

"So... Don't." She says it's like the easiest thing ever. He supposes for her, it is. Her escape just comes in a little glass vial.

"I have responsibilities. I have... things to do. I can't just check out." And it's then he realizes he sounds whiny and petulant now. Sigh. What would his father think.

She's mostly rolled against him and he knows what it is she's going after, so he hefts himself back up to sit on the edge of the bed again; he's having none of that right now. Of course, this just ends with her kind of leaning against and draped over his back. "Go and slum it in 12, or something." She mutters against his suit jacket then shifts so her head's mostly leaning on the back of his shoulder. He's fairly certain she sounds a bit like she's going to pass out soon. "Make some fucking thing up about your Escort bullshit and go back to 12 for a while."

"I -" Weyoun starts then just shuts his mouth again as realization hits him. That really is a very good idea, actually. He hadn't even really considered leaving the Capitol entirely for a while. "That might work."

"See!" She slurs brightly, hugging his back surprisingly tight. "I have good ideas. Now, could you may-"

"No."

Amber sighs theatrically, "You used to be fun."

He peers over his shoulder and quips right back, "You used to be sober." But that was many faces and hair colors ago.

"Jackass." She doesn't so much elbow him as attempt to sort of elbow him, which isn't really all that possible to successfully pull off given her current position. "Come back when you're done fucking with the peasants, though, alright?"

"Of course, Amber." He means it even if he wishes he didn't. He makes arrangements the very next morning.

A couple days later, and he's disembarking the the train to 12. He supposes there might be something here for Capitol visitors - not just officials, but tourists, though he's fairly certain this district gets very little in the way of tourists. He greets the mayor and leaves his things for the moment in the relative safety of the Justice building before he embarks on his stroll to the Victor's Village.

Sullivan's house gets a quick look as he passes, but of course that's not his intended destination. That would happen to be Caro's. He approaches her front door with a surprising amount of awkwardness and politely knocks. Hopefully she's home.

Comments

[caroflower]

Caro is home, and is just starting to peruse her kitchen when she hears someone at the door. Huh. It's too early in the day for it to be Walter, probably, and she hasn't seen that Peacekeeper since he dropped by to be helpful. Her hand edges toward her knife as she approaches her front door. It's too polite a knock to be her parents again. Now who...? She opens the door.

"Weyoun!" she blurts out. "What are you doing here so early?" She winces at that. Nice one, Caro. "Uh, I mean..."