(Untitled)

[askwhatsreal]

[oom: Sometime after this, Annie tries to escape. She opens a door.]

There is a girl huddled on the floor, bound hand and foot in iron chains. She is barefoot, wearing a purple hospital shift and bruises up and down her body. Most noticeably, three tight rings mottle her upper arms in blue and green (the color of her eyes, if you care to make the

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[v_accidentprone]

Oh, god. Alex drops everything the minute he sees her and rushes over to her with only a quick stop at the bar for a basic aid kit.

He drops down to his knees a little ways away from her, because if it was him on the ground, he wouldn't want to be crowded or touched. He'll try talking, first. "You're going to be okay," he says, quietly. "This place is safe."

[askwhatsreal]

"Compared to where?" she asks, low and anguished.

"It's all inside my head. All the same."

[v_accidentprone]

He's not really sure how to answer that - after all, it's not as if he can guarantee her safety, and she sounds a bit... well, drugged. (Though god knows he can try.) Instead, he decides that acknowledgement is unspoken permission to come closer and look over her chains for some lock or way to remove them.

"This isn't where you came from," he says, carefully. "My name's Alex. I'm going to try to help you."

[askwhatsreal]

They've been calling her 'Finnick's girl' or just 'crazy' since she arrived in the Capitol.

"Annie."

It feels good to say her name, her real name, out loud.

[v_accidentprone]

He smiles at her reassuringly. "Hello, Annie." In Basic Aid, he was taught to say the names (and the rank, actually, but) of the injured person as much as possible to keep them focused. It seems like a good idea now. "May I see the locks on your chains? I'd like to get them off, if I can."

[askwhatsreal]

He's right - it's been a while since anyone cared to speak her name, instead of referring to her by her relationships or her patient number.

"Good luck," she says, softly.

"They're Capitol-made - resilient."

[v_accidentprone]

He eyes them for a minute, and then has an idea. "Annie, I'm going to leave for a moment, and then I'm going to come right back. Okay?"

[ooc: >> is it okay if he gets a key from the bar?]

[askwhatsreal]

[ooc: that would work! it would be very intricate, technologically speaking, and probably have some kind of electrical circuit.]

"I'll be here," she says, with a trace of wryness.

She sits back, exhaling quietly. The door to this place - whatever it is - has stayed closed, with the uniformed Peacekeepers (including the one she'd infuriated) on the other side.

Her eyes alight on different parts of the room while she waits for Alex: strange people in strange clothing, huddled over their beer or engaged in earnest conversation. The room is full of a generalised buzz that floats over her in waves of sound.

It's comforting, somehow.

[v_accidentprone]

He returns within a couple minutes with what he hopes is the key to her shackles, a glass of water (it's always useful, and she might want painkillers), and a few ice packs. He smiles at her again when he gets back.

"Well, Annie, I've got this," he says, holding up the key somewhat dubious. "Maybe it'll work."

Interestingly, it does.

[askwhatsreal]

The last thing she wants is painkillers - she's had enough drugs to last her a lifetime.

Annie rubs some life into her arms. The places metal encircled her hands and feet are pale (almost as white as the hospital halls).

She looks up at him with a face full of hope - this isn't a nightmare.

"Thank you."

[v_accidentprone]

He smiles back down at her. "Not a problem, Annie. Um, I brought some water and ice packs and aspirin - " He offers them up, somewhat awkwardly. "It's all right if you don't want the aspirin, but I thought I'd offer."

[askwhatsreal]

She cups her hands for the gifts.

"Pills - no." She shudders. (this won't hurt a bit)

"But thank you. For the water."

She takes a sip of it, looking at him with ocean-green eyes over her glass.

[v_accidentprone]

"It's all right," he says. "I've been drugged before, too. I probably wouldn't want any, either."

Beat.

"Do you think anything's broken?"

[askwhatsreal]

Lots of things, she thinks. But more prosaically:

"My wrist, maybe. Sprained."

Beat.

"I broke someone's knee with these." She points to the cuffs, not wanting to touch them.

[v_accidentprone]

He offers out one of the ice packs for her wrist and eyes the cuffs thoughtfully. "I'm guessing they deserved it."

[askwhatsreal]

She laughs, softly, with a grateful nod for the ice.

"Not him, necessarily. He was just another soldier in uniform."

She thinks about this, sometimes (Finnick's family, cut down for being related to a pretty Victor) - and she knows it's not fair.

"But the uniform was enough."