capitolprivilege | IC contact post

Okay, I'm here, I'm here.

Cyrus, what the hell. You just outlawed sex. You just made fucking a punishable offense. Do you hate fun or something?

Don't be melodramatic. My office did not outlaw sex. This is about professionalism and trust - neither of which can exist when Tributes find themselves competing for their Escorts' favors.

[With a level look at Stephen--]

Do you understand that, or should I explain it again?

[Stephen sucks in a breath, then lets it out with a frustrated sigh.]

I didn't think it was that much of a problem.

No? You didn't think about how that might be misconstrued? What it might suggest to people, an Escort sleeping with the Tributes whose performance in the Games depends so heavily on their goodwill?

[This is a habit of his - asking questions of Stephen whose answers he knew before he ever asked.]

...Well. Obviously you didn't think about it.

...jeez.

[He looks more put out than anything else, and more than a little chastised. He knows that's not how it is, knows Cyrus is making the Tributes sound like a pack of wild dogs desperate for scraps, but arguing for Tributes now is something he cannot advisably do.

Still -- he finds himself wanting Cyrus to not misunderstand. He doesn't care about Jason, but despite all the mistrust and dull fear he feels when he thinks of Cyrus's political loyalties, Stephen doesn't want Cyrus to think he's preying on Tributes.]

It wasn't like that.

It doesn't matter how it was. Not half so much as what it looks like.

[Whether Tributes are being preyed on or not, what the intent of the Escorts is, is really secondary to Cyrus. Stephen is more important - Stephen, who stands to lose so much more than his reputation now.

Cyrus pauses, and when he speaks again, it's less short - still firm, but gentle, I know you're not a bad person but this is for your own good.]

...Look. However it was, whatever it looked like-- it has to stop. The consequences for this are very real, Stephen, and you're not exempt from them.

Edited (html!) 2015-04-05 23:09 (UTC)

[He wonders, for a second, if this is another shot at getting him to leave his job.

...but that's crazy. Cyrus wouldn't pass a law so that he would have an excuse to take Stephen away from the Tributes. Besides, no one was being penalized retroactively, and Stephen hadn't been the only one doing it. The law wasn't directed at him, not exclusively.

He sighs.]

I know. If the alternative is losing my job, I can keep things professional from now on. It won't be a problem.

[Of course Cyrus wouldn't pass a law to control Stephen's behavior. ...Just, if a law he passes tends to help him do just that-- if it's not hard to make sure a law does just that-- well.]

You're sure?

[I want to trust you, his tone says, but regrettably...]

It seems to me professionalism's been... something of a problem for you lately.

[He drags a hand over his face.]

....not you, too. Why is everyone so convinced I have a problem? I don't. It's like everywhere I turn, Tributes and Mentors and other Escorts are trying to stage individual interventions when I am just fine.

Which should go to show you just how many people have noticed. Between the clothes, and the picking fights, and coming back to the Center after hours with god knows who on your arm, and then that stunt you pulled onstage with Flickerman--

[He could go on. He's choosing not to.]

--Are you seriously surprised that people are wondering if it's affecting your job performance?

[Implied, as it has been before: Are you seriously surprised that I'm wondering if you're cut out for this job?]

[He squirms. It's honestly unclear to Stephen himself how much of it is genuine discomfort and how much is an attempt to appear as reluctantly chastised as he wants Cyrus to see.]

--okay, but the Flickerman thing wasn't my fault. And my clothes are fine. Come on, Cyrus, it's not that bad.

You look ridiculous. I don't suppose you thought about how that might reflect on the family.

[Because of their ages and relative positions, Stephen's often simply known as Cyrus Reagan's brother to those who only have reason to know him for his family's position - which is what they call him in the tabloids where they report on all his antics.]

...But even ignoring that - it doesn't exactly give an impression of professionalism, Stephen. Dragging Tributes with you to strip clubs? Really?

Forget professionalisn. At this point I'd say competence is a stretch.

[He swallows, looking -- more than chastised. He looks nervous, actually. A little frightened, a little hurt, like he's only just now realizing the scope of the consequences of his actions.

(He isn't. He's known for a while and been willing to take the risk. But Cyrus doesn't need to know how calculated his breakdown was. Or that Stephen is thinking, even now, about how much resistance he needs to put up to be believable.)]

....oh, god. You're serious.

[Now it's Cyrus' turn to look hurt.]

Of course I'm serious, Stephen.

[His disapproval is still there-- but it's less angry now. Just a little wounded, and a little disappointed.]

This is about you. This is about you, and your job, and your reputation, and-- and your well-being.

Why wouldn't I be serious about that?

[Can I stop, now? Stephen wonders. Have I convinced everyone I'm an idiot enough to let my brother clean me up? He thinks it might work: if everyone knows Cyrus Reagan brought his brother to heel, it'll look like Stephen can barely take care of himself. That he just does what Cyrus Reagan says.

And, honestly, Stephen thinks, Cyrus can probably be relied on to do everything he can to make Stephen look less like a traitor. Taking cues from Cyrus is probably going to be the best thing, here.

...he's glad he's stopping. He doesn't particularly like waking up sick most mornings, and his vanity has taken a terrible beating.]

...but it's you who it's caused the most trouble for. You didn't need me making your life harder, especially when you'd been working so hard on that Tribute legislation.

[He sounds defeated, repentant, and more than a little ashamed.]

I'm really sorry. I hadn't thought it was that bad.

[That last isn't defensive anymore. It's an apology. It's an if I had known, I wouldn't have.]

[This has been Cyrus' job, or at least what he considers his job, for years: To clean up after Stephen, to keep him from blithely bringing whatever mild disgrace on the family name, from having to face the consequences of his actions, his little scandals and his indiscretions. And Cyrus really believes he's doing it for Stephen - if Stephen thinks he's doing it for Cyrus, if that's what keeps him on the straight and narrow, then fine, but Cyrus has always believed, as he does now, that this is all for Stephen's good.

Hearing that note of repentance, of shame, in Stephen's voice, his expression softens.]

Do you get it now, though? Do you see why it has to stop?

I'd really hate to see you suffer for this, Stephen. To throw away your job-- over what? A Tribute? [A couple of Tributes, from what he's heard, but the disgust in his voice is enough to cover all of the implied others.] Forget about me. Is that what you want for yourself?

Edited 2015-04-07 19:41 (UTC)

[Wow, Cyrus. Stephen's gaze is down and to the side, but, in a reaction too small to see, his teeth press together at the way Cyrus says Tribute.

That's what Cyrus thinks. That Stephen -- that Cyrus -- that all of them are so much more important than the Tributes. That Tributes don't matter. That Avoxes don't matter, either.]

...if I had known my job was at stake, I would have stopped weeks ago. It's just that after the party-blacklist was lifted, I felt like I'd lost a lot of casual friends, so I thought if I was as fun to be around as possible -- if I got as much attention as I could -- then maybe I could go back to how things were. And...I got mad when people didn't get that.

[He's not even trying to defend himself. He's just trying to explain.

There's a beat, and then Stephen drops something he's pretty sure will get Cyrus's guard down.]

I wish I'd come to you about it instead. If I'd talked with you about it in the first place -- but I knew you were busy, so I didn't.

[Cyrus listens. Stephen is looking away, but Cyrus is looking directly at him-- steady, attentive, his head still but his gaze sweeping slow and imperceptible over Stephen's face.

He listens to that explanation, that confession, and there's something in the set of his mouth not unlike satisfaction.]

[--Though when Stephen drops that last sentence, he moves-- blinks, leans forward in his seat, his expression dropping swiftly into a frown.]

Stephen, I've told you before-- you can always come to me. No matter how busy I am. Okay? Always.

[It's not chiding. If anything, it's too earnest. ...almost a little guilty.]

I know, but that doesn't mean I should. You're always busy with something important, Cyrus. It's not right to ask you to drop it just to listen to whatever's going on with me.

You are more important to me than my work.

[He's looking at Stephen levelly-- this isn't his smug, smooth politician's face, or his I'm indulging you face, or even his I'm telling you exactly how you're going to behave face.]

Whatever's going on with you-- I want to hear about it. Anything.

I mean-- I'm your brother. If you can't come to me, then who can you come to?

[There is no one, no one he wants Stephen confiding in other than him.]

[Stephen wishes he could tell Cyrus the truth. Barring that, he wishes he would stop feeling like he could. He wishes this curling guilt would go away every time Cyrus acts open with him. Even though he knows Cyrus has lied to him -- even though he knows that Cyrus genuinely thinks he's stupid -- Stephen still feels guilty every time he lies.

He keeps coming back to this. He wishes it would stop.]

Maybe this wouldn't have blown up so bad if I had talked to someone about it.

Maybe. [Oh, Stephen, he doesn't blame you. This isn't the voice of someone who blames you.]

Now you know, don't you? Remember this. [He is so, so gentle.] Next time, Stephen, come to me first.

[He still can't look at Cyrus. He gives a small, small nod, one of chastised acquiescence.

He considers saying something here -- I'm glad I can come to you -- but it would come off as insincere, he thinks. Too much. Better to leave it how it is and let Cyrus make the next move.]

[Hear that? That's the quiet, satisfying sound of the world clicking back into its proper place.]

I'm glad we were able to talk about this.

You'll be more careful from now on, right?

[Tell me you're going to be more careful, is what he's really demanding. He wants to hear it.]

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