Log:Seeking Truth from the Capitalist
After her chat with the Penitent (and yet another spat with the Creepshow), the Hunter returned to her room. Since the murder (/assisted suicide), it's been like this. She's hidden out there or in the Capitalist's room, surfacing only to grab meals or more cigarettes. Taking inventory of what she has. Dragging out the mats to work out. Wholly in her own head save when she surfaces to spend time with the one person that she seems to really be able to find calm and center around.
When she enters the room this time, the door is slammed behind her; loud enough to be heard, likely, by the neighboring rooms. Almost as soon as she's inside, she sheds the hoodie and throws it aside towards the closet. Underneath is just a thin, white tee. The sneakers go next, kicked towards that same pass-through wardrobe. A few easy strides take her to sit on the bed, which is where she can be found whatever length of time later: staring off into space, in thought.
The Capitalist, himself, has yet to fully recover from what happened to the Creepshow, but on top of that one issue, there were still other things that continued to bother him. Today, he spent most of his waking hours in bed, just staring up at the ceiling as his mind ponders everything that he knows and everything that's he's experienced, memories, mostly, but there are also things which he just recently learned. He also found himself alone here now, something which had begun to bother him since the first time it happened. The Creepshow's death, however, did do one thing, he believed and that was to cement his relationship with the Hunter. If anything, perhaps, he had Esme to thank, if only he could shake everything that happened in that one moment, to appreciate the woman's efforts more.
The loud slam is heard coming from somewhere in the hallway. It's not too unsual anymore, not with everyone's anger rising with accusations flying and just a heavy dose of what happens to a group of people when trapped in a place that makes no sense to any of them. At first, he simply looks out across the room to his own closed door, making no further moves for a good couple of minutes. Eventually, there is that need for coffee or something stronger and he pulls himself up from his bed, making his way to his walk-in to pick out something to wear.
Feeling lazy as it is, when the Capitalist leaves his room, he's wearing a simple grey long-sleeved sweater, though it probably cost more than what most people would pay for a similar item, and a pair of jeans and the more comfortable loafers. The first door that he looks at is the door leading to the Creepshow's room, but he's not willing to venture any further with that thought. Instead, he proceeds to the Hunter's door, a hand lifting to trail fingers along the picture engraved in the wood there. He looks thoughtfully at it, before giving the door a light knock.
The kneejerk response that almost leaves her lips is to demand whoever it is to go away. How long has passed? Minutes? Hours? But lest she shout off someone innocent, the Hunter finally pushes herself to her feet from the bed and crosses to the door. It opens only marginally at first, then wider once she sees who is outside. "Conrad," she says softly, features shifting once she does. They soften, tension easing visibly in places. She reaches out towards him, grabbing at the sweater he wears to pull him into the room so she can close the door behind him and simply wrap her arms around him.
The embrace is more for herself than him, at least initially. She lets out a sigh. "She lives and she's just as... whatever she is as ever." Creepshow. There's another slow release of breath. "I tried to talk to Madison, but..." But what? The words become lost and she just leans into him for the moment.
The Capitalist did not realize that the most recently slammed door was the Hunter's, so once it's opened to him, he's not expecting her to be in distress or anxious in any way, outside of the fact that they both helped kill another woman together, that is. When he's pulled inside, he's not completely sure if this is a heated and passionate gesture or something different, but he obliges to her demands, his own arms enveloping around her tightly to pull her firmly into the soft fabric to press against his chest. His eyes scan the room now to see if anything were out of place or to see whether there are any signs of what she may have been up to during his absence.
Though the news given him brings some relief. This means that they had nothing to worry about, the freak was alive, so no one should be asking any questions about the incident. He doesn't comment on Esme's ressurection not changing her any, it's not something he had expected to happen. However, it's the last part that makes him curious. "What did you talk to Madison about? The fact that we think she's going crazy?" This is said rather casually, though the Hunter knows that the topic of Madison has always brought him some form of emotional anguish since the first day the woke up here.
The room is in a fairly standard state. There's signs of her having thrown parts of her outfit into the closet. The exercise mats are out. Everything else, however, is in order and put away. The Hunter is quiet for a long moment, taking what comfort she can from his embrace. She leans into him, pressing her face against his collarbone; enjoying the softness of the sweater as opposed to the usual button-down shirt or suit jacket. When she finally leans away, it's not to disengage entirely. She only leverages back far enough to meet his gaze with her own.
"I don't think Maddy is coming back. I think she hurts too much and... this is how she's chosen to deal with it." The Hunter moves her hands to his arms, sliding them along his biceps. "She's upset over the island. She's... upset about her actions. And... seeing us hurts her, too, Conrad. She said there were times she needed you that you were with me. And I think she resents us both for that."
His gaze lowers to meet with hers when he senses her drawing back slowly, though the very first thing that the Hunter says leaves him cold, something which makes his jaw set tightly as he listens to the rest of it. She can see it in his eyes that he is fighting to control his emotions right now and that he's in disbelief by this news, despite the comfort which her touch might bring. "When she needed me? We were working around the clock for most of that time and have been ever since our comms blew. In fact, we barely found time for each other." His words directed at the Hunter now. "We spent an entire night trying to figure out how to best approach the lost tribe situation on our hands with hardly any rest in between." He knows that there was a point where both Conrad and Maata tried to give into their desires, but even that was cut short, when she was called out to assist in the rescue operation. "I.. I just don't know how to fit all of that into the timeline that was forced on us." Though even he knows that all of these are just excuses that he's making, "If I had known that she needed me, but it was hard to determine, through all of our staff meetings, speech writing, everything. There was no time."
"I know." The words leave the Hunter in a rush. She lifts her hands from his arms to his cheeks, fingertips brushing over them lightly. "I know, Conrad, I know." She leans up, drawing him into a kiss. It's meant as a light, soothing one at first, but becomes something a bit more frenetic quickly enough. "I know. We know. Other than that one night, any time we got was... interrupted or working or..." She swallows, leaning back onto her heels. "But that's not how anyone else sees it. They saw us together. They saw us together and they saw a plan and a place that fell to pieces. This is how the blame falls. It's... it's not some big explosion of anger and- and judgement. That'd be too easy, I guess. It's, it's exactly this. She said she hated all of your girlfriends. Because they came and went. So she disliked me, too. And I guess it was just... past informing present."
The Hunter takes a step back, drawing him towards the bed so they can sit. She swallows. "She told me... about your father. And how she had to fund everything you did. Maybe it's.... maybe she just felt like after having to be there for you so much, that- that you weren't there for her when she needed you. And part of running away now is because she also knows you didn't do it on purpose. I don't think she wants to be mad at you or resent you, but if she kept being Madison, she would."
The Capitalist is too consumed by his emotions at this moment to properly respond to the kisses in a way that the Hunter may desire. The fact that Madison felt abandoned or neglected by him is not something that had ever crossed his mind, always believing that they were on the same page for most everything. Still, even when his mind tries to sift through all the memories of the island, everything that he's been working towards to ensure, first, the festivals longevity and then the preparation against these undead forces, the kisses given him does mollify him slightly, keeping him somewhat distracted as he tries to focus on their island past. The kisses themselves are returned, but the Hunter can quickly tell where his mind is at.
"I'll talk to her," He starts, but here is when she brings up his father and it makes him wonder what else Madison had said. Though, when she continues, it sets him at ease somewhat. "Yeah. She's right about that. It was Madison who helped to fund Wyred Fest, my father wasn't having anything to do with it, believing it to to be a stupid idea." Or that's as much as he can remember from that conversation, seeing the snapshots of that day in their father's office, remembering some of the insults slung at him. That wasn't important right now, Madison was. "I'll see if I can work something out, explain my... our side of the story. See if she will understand."
"Just be careful," the Hunter says quietly, watching him. There's an extra studious look in her gaze at the moment. Looking for tells, perhaps. "She truly does believe that since she secured the island, everything that happened was her fault. She won't... understand that it was Akala's. Bribe or no. He was- I mean, you know. He probably would have given it to you without the bribe. He was a bastard, the bribe was just the icing on the fucking cake." She sighs, lifting a hand to rub at her cheek a bit.
Falling quiet and settling on the edge of her bed, she lies back to stare at the ceiling and think. To consider. The next question is allowed to knock around in her head for a few moments or more. When it finally comes, there's a few false starts. Intakes of breath before the words are voiced. Then, finally: "Conrad... did you-" A pause, a hitch. "Did you lie to me?" She tilts her head to look at him. "To get me to like you? To... to be with you? Madison said that's... that's something you do with your girlfriends."
"I know she does. When things began to fall apart, I had noticed that she was falling apart as well." The Capitalist says with a sigh, his gaze lowered, and if he didn't look like a man who had a million things on his mind currently, one could mistake him for looking down at her neck or even lower than that. "I was working effortless throughout all of that just so that she didn't have to worry about any of it."
He remains standing when the Hunter takes her position on the bed as he continues to work things out in his mind on how he would approach the-woman-who-was-his-sister next, but then a curve ball is thrown at him. Not a question he had expected to hear ever or not in this place at least. "What?" Is his person response, but when she goes on, he shakes his head quickly. "What did I need to lie about? There was this chemistry, this energy from day one." Or at least that's how he perceived their initial meeting in the kitchen, "And things just snowballed from there." And then Madison's name is brought up and he has to blink. "I... I'm not sure if she knows what she's talking about. Anyone can say nice things to someone if they want to attract that person's attention. That's not lying, not in this case. I was being truthful."
"All right," the Hunter says, softly. She looks relieved and even lets out a sigh that releases some tension in her frame. She closes her eyes. "I told her that we... understood each other and she said you were good at... pretending that. At making it seem like you 'got' someone and girls often felt that way about you." She opens her eyes again, pushing herself up onto her elbows to look up at him. There's something in her eyes that edges close to fear. "I love you, Conrad. I don't want that to be based on a lie. Sometimes I feel like we're all we have. Especially here."
She looks off, towards one of the racks containing replica weapons. "I don't even know what to try next. I don't think there is a way out of this place. And it seems like everyone is ready to just let themselves go. It's terrifying, to me. How so many people are willing to just... abandon the only things they know."
The Capitalist, or at least Conrad, is good at putting people at ease, especially those who are already attracted to him. So was there really a need to lie about anything? Though something does come to mind suddenly, it's a mere flicker of a thought which he easily enough pushes away. Though it does make him take some pause in that simple, fleeting moment, when he's listening to her speak now. However, when she brings up more of what Madison may have said, he will agree to part of that. "I'm... not going to lie. I have done that in the past. Hooking up with a rival company's CEO to gain information from here? I've done it, to help out our family company and name. Am I proud of it?" Well, Conrad was... "It was a job to be done. But ours was a different story, there was no need for any of that." And to this, he looks at her directly.
Being told that she loved him slowly brings a smile to his lips, even when she mentions the others who are willing to abandon who they truly are. "I just think everyone's in shock right now. We still don't know where we are or what really happened to us. So they'll grasp at anything that they can."
"I still wonder how it would have been if we'd met under other circumstances. Would I have just thought you some spoiled elite? Would you have overlooked me because I was just part of the working class? Would we have even met?" the Hunter pulls at the front of his sweater a bit, playfully. "How often did you slum it up in dive bars, anyway?" A small smile pulls at her lips. "I think, had the festival taken its course, yes... I would have ended up in your bed." Even with Vanessa. Surely he'd have gotten bored of her. Security would have had much less to occupy them save the rare animal from the jungle, high kid venturing past the fence, or drunk altercation. She'd have had more free time. So would he.
Perhaps they'd have shared a drink or five together and seen one thing lead to another.
Tilting her head into his touch, the Hunter exhales in a small sigh. "So would I," she admits softly. "Some days I feel I still am. Caged up here like rats. Can't even go for a good run to get it out of your system. And the one person I want to wake up next to... I can't. Because somehow, we end up separated each night once we fall asleep."
"The... working class?" The Capitalist has to laugh a little at this, "We're not living in medieval times where that mattered. I mean, of course, families like mine say that it matters who you married, but it doesn't mean that people of money don't hook up with bartenders, their make-up artists and what have you." A pause, "Now marrying one of the so-called working class might prove more difficult." He even considers if that would have been possible if they survived. What would his family say? That was all moot now and though they didn't survive, something happened to them. This place happened to them. That smile slowly fades a little, but a ghost of one lingers on his lips at the rest of what she says. "I think you're right, even without the fear of death. Somehow."
When she brings up their waking up in separate beds, the Capitalist looks thoughtful, his brow furrowing. "I don't know what we can do to keep it from happening. I mean, aside from tying ourselves up together." He just blinks once that suggestion is even made.
When he laughs, the Hunter swats at the Capitalist's arm. "You were on magazine covers. One of the richest family's in the world. My family were fishermen. I spent my nights in bars. I'd never even left the islands. We'd have never met if it weren't for that festival, Conrad. You'd have never set foot in my country if not for that festival." Still, she smiles to some extent, watching him. "A month is plenty of time to have at least one night together. Then two. Then a few more. Then you extracting a promise from me to come to the States so you can show me around New York." She's grinning a bit more broadly, at that.
When he brings up tying themselves together, she lofts a brow. "Kinky." It's a bit of a tease. "Didn't know you had it in you." But she lies back, looking towards one of her shelves where there is climbing gear and yes, plenty of rope. "It is worth a shot, though. I would... really prefer waking up with you."
"We weren't though." The Capitalist says, that faint grin never leaving his lips. "I mean, don't get me wrong, we were wealthy. Really wealthy. But nowhere near the Wellingtons or the Valehs of the world. That's why Madison and I worked so hard on this festival, to build up our brand and to further our family's prestige. Sure, it would benefit us, but that means it benefits our family even more." When he says the word family again, it reminds him of what Madison had said, something which makes him fall quiet, hearing all about the Hunter's... no Maata's life before Wyred hit. "Yeah. And who do we have to thank for our meeting?" Certainly not Akala! "It was my plan initially, I chose the island. Maybe it was fate."
The smile broadens when she calls his idea kinky, making him lean forward as she leans herself back to view everything on her wall. Hovering over her now, while it starts as a tentative action, his moving forward to brush his lips against hers, he knows what he wants to do, even if the sickening memories of the Creepshow falters his momentum at times. Though after the first kiss is given, his eyes now lift to view the shelves, where he comments, "We'll just have to make this all happen then."
"You know, it's really bad taste to try to make yourself seem less wealthy around someone who legitimately grew up poor." Though Maata is chiding him gently, she's grinning. None of that matters now. They're all on even footing here. Money has no place. They're all provided for. "And if it was because of you, well. Thank you for bringing us together." Another little smirk.
When he leans in over her, she's ready; arms lifting to slide around his shoulders as she draws him against her to meet that kiss; hesitant as it may be at first. When it breaks and he looks towards the shelves, she makes a thoughtful sound and starts to sit up. The Hunter's momentum is stalled only by the fact that she draws him into another kiss. "Let's see what I've got," she offers finally once on her feet. "And what we can rig up, yeah?" Shortly after, a few things are tossed onto the bed. Rope, of course. Carabiners. And a few other elements of climbing gear: straps, some rappel devices.
After he's given the Hunter a good laugh about his own privilege and when he is drawn into this embrace, he finds it terribly comforting. In fact, he fels so comfortable with her, but of course he did, he had Conrad's memories. Even still, Conrad only knew the woman for a little over a week's time. Nearly two tops. With just that thought alone, he does have to agree with something Wellson had once said: Maata was special.
He shifts lightly when he senses that she is about to rise, but is caught in that one up in that one kiss as she does so in a quick fluid motion and this time, he more eagerly returns it in kind. But now that they are working together once more, brainstorming over ideas, which is something they were used to doing on the island, he rolls over to his side and simply watches as she goes through her gear. "Carabiners..? Rappel devices.. It really does sound like we're going to have a great time."
"You know what they are. That's... kind of hot, actually." The Hunter grins, standing by the bed. She looks from the gear, to the Capitalist, then back. "Well, I figured... this may not be so easy as just tying ourselves together. A simple bit of rope around our, what, ankles or something? All it'd take is one of us squirming out of it in our sleep." She grins, just a little, at the idea.
"No, no, we need to... rig something that we can secure ourselves in that won't be easy to slip out of in our sleep." She stares at the gear for a moment before biting her lip and looking over to him, eyelids lowered just a bit. "But, I mean, there's plenty of other uses, too."
"Just as long as we can get ourselves out of it." The Capitalist has to comment, still viewing the items from he's laying atop her bed, even if his attention on them is a mere idle curiosity. It's the Hunter who he is watching, rather enjoying seeing her as she concentrates and thinks where she lingers near the bed. "It would be mortifying if we needed someone else to get us unraveled, but that also would mean that our trick worked if that's the case. Otherwise, you know, I don't have an otherwise. I cannot possibly see a way that one of us could be taken from our bindings, especially if they are well placed."
Only briefly does his attention return to some of the things on her shelves, though he sees more than just rope and binding material there. When his gaze returns to observing her once more, however, he realizes that she's looking down at him now with ideas of her own. "I'm sure that we can come up with a few things." A pause, "Normally, I would say that I wouldn't have expected anything like that from you, but thinking further on it..." He lets his words linger some.
"Hence the carabiners," the Hunter says, nodding towards the pile. "I figure we can... setup some sort of rig on the bed itself. Some underlying structure. Then we'd be tied to the bed and each other." She's studying him as much as he is her, really. The distraction is building as her thoughts begin to slide elsewhere. "The... rappel devices would let us move around in our sleep still, so we'd be less likely to wake up and give us room enough to untie everything in the morning..." As she talks through it, she takes a few steps closer to him and where he lies on the bed, reaching for the hem of the t-shirt she's wearing.
It comes off in a fluid movement, tossed to the floor. She leans over him, then; planting a knee on the bed and then a hand by his shoulder as she does so. "But a few... tests and some playing around with ideas might not be remiss."