[UNRECORDED]

[murphypendleton]

The mentor's suite is not exactly a room Murphy ever really gets excited about seeing. Sure, it's aesthetically pleasing in a way everything in the Capitol tends to be (and of course in all the ways he dislikes) but its design doesn't do much to hide its true function. Monitors everywhere. Stations for each mentor, made slightly personal over the years by the mentors that man them. He's going to be very glad when he doesn't have to see this place again.

He's not even the first mentor to make it there this morning. That dubious honor falls on the career Districts and the others blessed with lower numbered designations, Scotty and Keenser among them. He gives them a nod hello then goes to blow the proverbial dust off his station and get settled in. Sullivan's nowhere to be found yet but he's always the last, for so many reasons.

Heather's already at hers, because she can teleport or some shit, and she's fussing with the angle of the monitors while Murphy just tries to remember his goddamn password to log in.

He really hates computers.

Comments

[illdrinktothat]

Walter unceremoniously flops back into his chair and kicks his legs up. Data's move with the chair he... uh, dismissed gets a raised brow and a short laugh. "Yeah...welcome."

The monitors get the most of his attention after that, at least until all of a sudden Murphy's there and being... Murphy. Walter growls and smacks the man's hands away but that doesn't really stop him much. "Motherfucker, he's finally gone rabid."

[areyoukiddingme]

Basil is grumpy this morning. Hell, he's always grumpy during the Games. "And what girl would that be? Sherry? Brandy?" He scowls over at them from his station.

Basil's usually a morning person, but it's too goddamn early for bullshit. Well, any more bullshit. There's plenty already courtesy of the Capitol. It's just Basil's luck he's stuck mentoring this year. Otherwise he'd be at home in his restaurant. But no, he's here. Fan-fucking-tastic.

[illdrinktothat]

After a moment Walter does manage to free himself of 7's Victor's antics with a gruff and probably too-loud, "Fuck you, Pendleton."

He puts minimal amount of effort in to returning his hair into something at least not quite so insanely out of control. Just, you know, his normal level of general dishevelment. Of course, the Victor from 1's gotta put in his two cents. Walter doesn't even bother looking, instead just grumbling over his shoulder. "Don't you have pies to be baking or something, Momus?"

[areyoukiddingme]

Truth be told, Basil would be more than happy to be home baking pies. Or maybe decorating a cake. But unfortunately for him--and by proxy, everyone around him-- he's here instead. Goddamn Weyoun. Although really, Basil could have gotten worse for pissing off someone that important. He should probably be grateful he's just stuck mentoring for the foreseeable future.

It's hard to be grateful when you're stuck in a room with people like Sullivan at too fucking early for this o'clock.

"And don't you have a liver to pickle?" Okay Basil, that's enough of that. Might as well actually get ready to pay attention to his Tribute. What the fuck kind of name is Dobby anyway. He turns back to his station and fixes the monitor.