First Entrance

[real_or_notreal]

It only takes one step.

To know this is not his house in Victor's Village.
Not any place found in District 12.
Not Seam or Merchant or Hob.






Peeta's not one of the best people for random surprise locations.
Especially after The Capital & The Arena & Victor's Village.



[Tiny!Victor Tag: Peeta Mellark
Everyone's thread to take place after Gale's.]

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[setsthetrap]

By now, Gale has gotten a little uncomfortable with the fact that he can literally do nothing in his hallucination-dream-thing.

Which is starting to make him wonder whether or not it is a hallucination-dream-thing.

He's been sitting at a table by himself, in his hunting clothing, for a while - even after Katniss left.

He doesn't look particularly happy to be here.

And when he notices Peeta by the door, his brooding expression deepens.


But only barely.

(He's pretty good at schooling his face into one of bland sullenness.)

Because at the very least, he's another familiar face.



"Mellark," he calls.

[real_or_notreal]

Peeta's head turned, direct, with little of the rest of him moving. It's still like a punch in the stomach, the voice and that face, because of the other face it brings to mind instantly, that has to all be shoved down, but it doesn't show. And he tries not to hate that at least Gale counts as familiar, when none of the rest of this room or the people do.





He walked over rather collectedly, even as his eyes were taking everything in. "What is this?"

[setsthetrap]

"You're not going to believe this," he starts off. "I got here a few hours ago looking exactly like you do right now. Only, the door -" He jerks a thumb towards it "- showed up just as I was heading out."

To hunt.

With Katniss.

But he isn't sure that's a subject he wants to get into right now. Not when he'd seen her only moments ago.

(And here, of all places.)

"It's called Milliways. We're at the end of the universe."

[real_or_notreal]

Even if Peeta has to bite down the first reaction to heading out (on a Sunday, to that place, because everyone knows) and might not know Gale incredibly well, but he's definitely not someone Peeta would ever have marked down as a joker.

Too serious. Too down to earth. Unconcerned with the flighty girls and diversions of anyone they'd grown up with. And also more trustworthy than the crazily unknown room he's studying with the same clear, levelness he did most things -- from the cakes to the lay outs of the Arena.



The impossible was a little less than impossible given the last few months.
And he's pretty sure Gale doesn't really care where he walked in from.


"Is it safe?" Is far more economical sounding, than concerned.

[setsthetrap]

Gale gives him a curt nod of confirmation at that.

"Safer than District 12, in any case."

Which means a hell of a lot more to those who actually live there than anyone else who might be listening in on their conversation.

"Of course, some of it looks too good to be true, so it's not like I'll be putting my feet up or anything."

He still doesn't trust a sentient Bar to provide him with food, for example.

(And he'd feel way too guilty to eat it anyway, with his family starving back home.)

[real_or_notreal]

At least Gale doesn't sugar coat it. Peeta thinks he'd find that far more annoying. Having to sift through what are the lies in someone he didn't know telling him about this place. Gale doesn't have a reason.

They don't have reasons to be nice to each other. Especially not for her, or because of her. It's an odd thing to take comfort in. But he's taken comfort in so much worse lately.


"What things?"

[setsthetrap]

The thing about Gale ... he doesn't really sugarcoat anything.

That's Peeta's job.

He coats the cakes; he coats the game-plans.

Gale's seen the footage. He knows how the other boy survived when he wasn't with Katniss.

And if there was no ... Katniss between them, he'd probably even admire the guy for it.

"The food, the drink, the rooms," he starts, listing the items off a mental checklist in his head. It nearly resembles a report. "The 'magic'. The Bar."

[real_or_notreal]

Peeta's been to the Capital.

He's seen glitz and glamor and food.
He knows what hides under that facade.

It all comes down to one question only.




"Who's in charge?"

[setsthetrap]

"No one's given me an answer that makes sense," Gale says. "But someone must have an idea."

For a Baker's Boy, he certainly has a soldier's mind.

(Which doesn't exactly surprise him, considering the fact that he's a Hunger Games Victor.)

"It reeks of -"

Well.

You know.

[real_or_notreal]

There's a glance at the room before, "Do you mind if I sit?"
There's a motion with his hand to the seat across from Gale.

He's aware he's already invaded Gale's life more than he'd like.
It's not like he had many options in the turns of his last year.

But he doesn't force himself on people. It's not what he does.





Even if he can't help liking (and hating himself for liking) the tiny thought that the longer Gale is here telling him about this impossible place, the longer he's not somewhere else off with her.

[setsthetrap]

"Go ahead," says Gale with a shrug.

What's he going to do? Tell him no? He can go find his own seat somewhere?

Gale might not exactly be Peeta's biggest fan, given everything, but there's still no reason to be an asshole.

[real_or_notreal]

He sits, leaning back, taking as few seconds as her can manage to find a comfortable way to sit with his prosthetic leg, as his gaze swept back out across the room.

He hasn't left that topic.
Someone runs these places.

Someone always runs these places.

"There's no...security?" Peacekeepers.
He means Peacekeepers. "Or rules?"

[setsthetrap]

"Not in the traditional sense, no," he says - which is really the politest way he can think to say what he thinks of the Peacekeepers.

"I've been told there's a security team here but no one's given me too many specifics." He isn't sure he wants them anyway if it means a face-to-face meeting with them or anything.

[not_his_pa]

William went home after seeing his father in Bar and has just returned, he's tired.

His eye's bruising in fun colors and his lip is healing as he walks by Peeta on his way to the counter and nods to him.

[real_or_notreal]

Even if this is new and an odd he doesn't trust even slightly, it all still vanished on seeing the boy's face. His face knitted into a surprised concern.

"You alright?"

[not_his_pa]

He stops and manages something that's meant to be a smile, his lip still hurts,

"Yeah, should have seen the other fellow."

[real_or_notreal]

About the same age. At least roughly guessing. Especially when factoring the bruising. How wrong is it that makes him more sure. Peeta at least gave a faint nod.

"He deserve it?"

[not_his_pa]

"Yes, he was tellin' lies about my mother,"

And his father sort of but that was more indirectly, it felt good to punch him.

[real_or_notreal]

"Hopefully, he learned his lesson then. You want any ice?"


It's even a logical reasons to check out the kitchen!

[not_his_pa]

"Could do with some more, the dry keeps makin' it open up again. He was until we were pulled apart."

[real_or_notreal]

"I saw a kitchen that way. I'm sure they have some in it somewhere," he said, getting up and pushing his chair in. Starting to lead the boy that way, he said, "I'm Peeta."

[not_his_pa]

"William, yeah, think there's one behind the counter,"

He hasn't been back there yet and follows Peeta.

[real_or_notreal]

Peeta can't go skulking off by himself. But with a purpose. At least there's a multifaceted nature to it. He'd like to know everything. But getting into a kitchen isn't entirely about reconnaissance.





Even if he does stop a few feet inside the door.


"Huh." There's a lot of unfamiliar stuff on the counters.

[not_his_pa]

Its the cleanest kitchen William's ever seen and he stares,

"What's it all do?"

[real_or_notreal]

"Make something for eating, I assume."

Even as he's staring rather close at something on the counter with some twenty buttons on it and a glass contraption on top, there's some sense to his words.

"It might be best not to touch them." Yet.