IC contact post

[capitolprivilege]

"Hi, you've reached Stephen Reagan -- almost. This is his phone. Leave a message and I'll get back to you when I can. Okay?"

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[capitolprivilege]

[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.

[currupted]

[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?

[capitolprivilege]

[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.]

[currupted]

[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?

[capitolprivilege]

[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.

1/2

[currupted]

[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.]

2/2

[currupted]

[--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.]

[capitolprivilege]

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.

[currupted]

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.]

[capitolprivilege]

[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.

[currupted]

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.

[capitolprivilege]

[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.]

[currupted]

[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.]

[capitolprivilege]

Yeah.

[The tone is a work of art: not too casual to sound sincere, not so heavy it looks like he's exaggerating. He's brightening up, picking himself up, accepting the scolding and forgiveness and moving on.]

Yeah, I'll be careful. I let people down, and I'm going to try to make sure that doesn't happen again.

[currupted]

Good.

[It's the same cycle. It's always the same cycle. Disapproval; rebellion; control; shame; normalcy. This is the way it's supposed to be.

So long as it fits the pattern so perfectly, Cyrus has no reason to suspect anything Stephen's saying of being insincere. Stephen has never broken the pattern before; why should he now?]

And-- I know I said this already, okay. But be careful around Tributes. And if you're ever confused, if you're not sure what's appropriate or isn't - come to me. Okay?

[capitolprivilege]

[At least he's got that permission. Cyrus left fraternization very, very vague, and Stephen knows Cyrus is too smart to have done that by accident. But Stephen decides not to comment on it or ask for clarification. Better to give the impression that he's not thought about it that hard.]

Thanks. If the Capitol wants a more hands-off approach from its Escorts, I can do that.

[currupted]

I know you can.

[A smile.]

--Well. Thanks for talking with me, Stephen. I've got to go; plenty of people with questions, as expected. But I'll catch you later.

[He'll wait a moment, to see if Stephen has anything else to say-- and then he'll cut the feed.]