super rusty muse, new pb

[deathtraps]

Trying this again? Because you did so well last time. [The desert isn't drier than his tone.] Let's say we put it on hold for a while.

You've got other things to do first.

Comments

[effective]

[Wrinkling her nose at him, because she is focussing on the important things here] What's wrong with your shirt. [It's not even a question]

[deathtraps]

[Oh my god, Katniss. Katniss. It's called a manly chest.] What?

[effective]

[Gesturing vaguely] Did you forget how buttons work?

[deathtraps]

[Snorts.] Does a slight lack of buttons offend you, Katniss?

[stillplaying]

[Gale. It's been what? Months? Days and weeks and months since she's last seen him. Talked to him. Had any interaction at all. Not since they last stood in the Capitol together. And he had tried to explain. The bombs. Prim. His deathtraps.

What had Greasy Sae said? That he was in District Two now? Some fancy job that got him on the television a lot. He's probably met someone else by now. Another pair of lips. Moved on.

And yet, here he is. Right in front of her. Putting up the same argument she's tried in the past. What can she say? What should she say? They might not have had each others backs like they should've. Back in the Capitol, when they went to assassinate Snow. She can't look at him without thinking of Prim's death. But he's still Gale. And she's still Katniss.

So finally, after what seems like an eternity of staring, words are whispered in a similarly sarcastic tone:] May the odds be ever in your favor.

[effective]

The buttons aren't the problem. You deciding that everyone within viewing distance needs to be able to see your chest is the problem. [pointedly looking anywhere except there]

[deathtraps]

Does that bother you? Everyone seeing my chest?

[effective]

[Opening her mouth and then abruptly going red because she walked right into that one.] That's not what I mean.

[deathtraps]

[Gale: 1. Katniss: 0.]

Sure.

[Okay, he'll take his victory and tone it down a bit.] Here. [Gale fastens a small tie at the top of his shirt, near the collar. To protect her sensibilities.]

[effective]

Thanks. [Except she sounds less grateful, and more like a sarcastic jackass] Jerk.

[deathtraps]

[He doesn't have to hear behind what she says to know exactly what she's talking about -- where's she coming from, the last time she saw him, and everything else in between. Because he can see it on her face, in her eyes; he was always good at that. And without another word, Gale's expression darkens, becomes steely and protected, more difficult to read than normally. His body language is nothing less.

He has these memories, too, but it's been a while since he found Katniss from the same time period, ready or willing or angry enough to confront him. Honestly, Gale is surprised she's here now if she knows what happens at the end of their war.]

Haven't heard that in a while.

[deathtraps]

Any time. [Sarcastic jackasses unite.] What have you been up to?

[effective]

[Her expression darkens] A mix of nothing, and being thrown around wherever this person decides she wants me. The usual, I guess.

[deathtraps]

Can't say it's been much different for me. Not since last time, in that city.

[effective]

Because apparently sending us somewhere not-terrible would have been just too hard.

[deathtraps]

They never go easy. [Not that people like Gale and Katniss aren't used to dealing with terrible things. Maybe more than most. But it doesn't meant they're prepared for it.] Are you being sent anywhere else?

[effective]

Not that I know of. Not that that means anything, but she seems pretty happy to just pull out whoever she wants whenever she wants to.

What about you?

[deathtraps]

She's got a few ideas. Nothing I'm thrilled for.

[Gale takes something out of the bag over his shoulder and tosses it toward Katniss -- a ripe, red apple.] Catch.

[effective]

[She's about to say something back when he throws the apple. Her hand jerks up on instinct to catch it, panic ricocheting through her. It takes a moment for her heart to settle, once she identifies the object, but once it does she gives him a smile] Thanks. {this time, it's genuine, although she's nudging him with her foot] Don't throw things at me like that, though. [Because it's annoying, okay, that's all]

[deathtraps]

Sorry. [Neither of them like surprises, but he thinks she won't mind as long as it's a good surprise.] I got it this morning. Right off the tree. Figured you'd want first pick.

[Also, food a happier Katniss makes.]

[effective]

It's... [Fine, she was going to say, but it's not really. She takes a bite of the apple, and smiles again] It's good. I guess you still know me pretty well. [It's meant to be a lighthearted, throwaway line, but it falls flat. They've grown so far apart now, and they both know it.

She sighs, frustrated. Even a simple conversation can't just be simple anymore.] Did you get one for you?

[deathtraps]

I guess. [The way she says that rubs him the wrong way, but Gale smothers his hurt, refusing to let it show. It's true, and maybe he doesn't even have a right to say anything about it; they're more distant than they've ever been.

Gale rolls his shoulder in a shrug.] Nah. I gave the rest to Rory and them.

[effective]

[She frowns at him for a moment, before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a knife. She always has some sort of weapon on her, these days. Flipping it open, she cuts the apple in half and wordlessly holds out the unbitten part to him.]

[deathtraps]

[He knows better than to refuse, reaching out for the other half.] Want to sit down? [Gale walks over to sit on the nearby grassy slope of a hill. It's almost like nothing's happened.]

[effective]

Sure. [She waists for him to turn around before sh licks the juice off the knife. It's the simple pleasures in life, okay? Wiping it on her pants, she snaps it shut again and wanders over to him, flopping to the ground. It's achingly familiar in a way she knows they can't go back to, but she's just going to ignore all that nostalgia for right now and enjoy it while she can]

It's...good. Being able to talk to you. I mean, you specifically. [Why are there so many versions of the same people around??]