Panem PSL with leiche & weaintashes

[voiceinthephone]

Phil discovered there were a few perks to being a mentor in Panem: the main one currently being the bigger suite and the rather small but significant privacy measures. It was no secret that he remained close to friends and loved ones but these two were more than that. Maybe Celebrus was onto something when Gray began to allow Daryl and Jeremy come into his room. He claimed it was for counselling: neither had someone to talk to and they mutually knew each other. But they were getting closer than that, a sweet undercurrent of bonding. They were damaged, their worlds and their actions in Panem tore invisible scars onto their minds and bodies. Maybe Phil missed physical contact a lot more than he thought but he kept his own stirring feelings down for not one but both of his now-regular suitemates. Hell, the press had a field day today, Phil let the two stay as long as they wanted, and was that hand-holding? 

"My place is your place," Gray chirped up as soon as the door closed, "Thought I couldn't lose them. Are you guys okay?"
 

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[voiceinthephone]

Phil caught sight of Jeremy's gesture and stepped away from the kitchen to put his hands along the other man's temples. He motioned Daryl to help their friend settle down. They were in this together, press be damned.

"Have you been taking your medicines?" he asked, a tell that he had been in chats with Jeremy's District 1 mentor. The man had a competitive streak the size of Texas and it was no secret that neither Phil and Daryl dislike his ways of treating his Tributes. It took a bribe and a bid for Phil to even get access to Jeremy's medical files, well worth what he had to do for his two close roommates. No, they were more than that.

Was this was love felt? Phone Guy had only had flings and short-lived disasters in his past, but this was different. This felt like gravity, all-encompassing and drawing them all in.

[weaintashes]

All traces of his prior amusement die away as he watches both of them with a worried look, sliding off the counter and likewise reaching for Jeremy, touching his shoulder. At Phil's gesture he's at a loss for knowing what he can do that won't just aggravate the situation, and wonders if it wouldn't be better to take their pets and go to his District Nine suite for the night, ensuring Jeremy'll have complete quiet here. Maybe pick up dinner after all so Phil isn't tied up doing that. As he's thinking he slides his hand back up to the nape of Jeremy's neck, then a little higher, fingers slipping through his hair and he lightly massages his scalp.

"I got you," he says when it occurs to him there is something he can do, however small it may be. "Hold up a minute."

He heads back to the bedroom area to collect some pillows and blankets, carrying them out to the main room. Tossing off the throw pillows from the couch (to their pets' confusion, and they scamper over to investigate), he arranges the bedding into a more comfortable nest of sorts. It'll be easier to keep an eye on Jeremy out here. Kneeling to quickly put the final touches on the makeshift bed, he stays there on the floor once he's finished and looks back to Phil and Jeremy.

"Come lie down," he says as he pats the pillows, and catches Foxy in mid-leap before he can appropriate the nest for himself. He boops the fox's nose with his own in 'reprimand'. "What else would help? You sure it's a good idea to be takin' meds from the doctors here? Stuff they keep tryin' to feed me just makes me sick." It's difficult, knowing he's all but useless in these kinds of situations: taking care of people outside of wilderness survival, where his skills as a hunter and tracker serve no purpose. This is more Phil's area of expertise.

[leiche]

He's never been good at dealing with confrontations, even if the other person isn't being aggressive about it. His first instinct is always to just stay quiet and try to get away as soon as the opportunity presented itself, but as much as he wanted to do just that, he found it was very difficult to when also confronted with gentle, comforting touches. Phil's quick to check him over, knowing how much pressure to apply where, but bringing up the medications he's taking-- ... supposed to be taking, that throws him off.

Jeremy's not expecting Daryl to approach him as well, and once his hand's started running through his hair, he's at a loss and frozen in place. It's too much all at once, but he can't bring himself to pull away or ask them to stop. His eyes close, tense at first, and conflicted over whether he should tell them about about his medication, or just stay quiet, or push them away and not deal with it at all. All those thoughts run quickly through his head, but when he lifts a hand to start pushing away, he hesitates. The feeling of being crowded and cornered he was expecting isn't there, and instead there's a sense of comfort and care that he finds himself almost longing for. His headache doesn't seem so bad.

So it's understandable that he feels a little disappointed when it stops, looking around and wondering where Daryl went off to and why. He meets Phil's worried gaze for a moment, but ends up staring down at his feet after, still reluctant to say anything. They both worry about him enough, he didn't need to make that worse.

The blanket nest Daryl sets up is also completely unexpected, a surprise and a kind gesture that Jeremy feels wholly undeserving of. The two of them were so concerned about him, going out of their way to look after him and make sure he was okay and felt safe with them. The thought that they'd be much happier without him being such a burden crosses his mind, and he almost voices that thought, but he keeps it to himself as he makes his way over, a hand tugging on Phil's sleeve to bring him along. He only lets go after a long moment of staring at the pile of pillows and blankets set up for him, before crouching down and crawling in, tugging a blanket over his head and curling up as small as he could make himself. There's a miserable-sounding whimper that leaves him as he closes his eyes, before he quietly admits to it.

"... I s-stopped taking 'em. Couple w-weeks ago."

[voiceinthephone]

Stopped taking them a few weeks ago was a phrase Phillip both dreaded and understood clearly. A few weeks back was probably during the last arena and as much as Phil argued that Jeremy needed the medicine, there was an element of suspicion he shared with Daryl. The Capitol needed obedient tributes and what better way to keep the most vulnerable in line by dosing them without their knowledge? It made the mentor afraid that, much like his actions here in Panem, good intentions become gutted.

"They were meant to stop the seizures and deal with the hallucinations but..." he spoke as he let Foxy have a round or two with a destroyed plush. Fat load of good the medicine did when Jeremy was faced with survival. But whatever self loathing was about come around, Phil tapered it with a caring smile towards the hunter. "Thank you for knowing the signs over at the Arena..." Daryl could help Jeremy in ways that Phil couldn't, in ways that mattered for the former Phone Guy.

Did their mutual affection, spanning three districts, undermine the purpose of the Hunger Games? Of course. Did Phil believe himself to be above his friends because he was out? Not at all. He felt human when he was around these two, as seen by the way he ran his fingertips along Jeremy's hair and the way he looked at Daryl.

"We'll just move onto therapy, you know? Can't rely on outsiders to, uh, do regular drops..." Choice words to Jeremy's mentor and escort will be unleashed tonight if Phil had his way.