Cypher was running late--she had already dropped off her tributes in their apartment and now she was high-tailing it over to the empty District Four apartments for a meeting with the rest of the Escorts. Nearly losing her balance as she rounded a corner, skidding on heeled boots, the alternatively-shorn escort, with her new breakup haircut and edgy makeup choices, burst through the door, expecting a room filled with people.
Instead, she only saw Hospes Compleo, the escort to District One. Sliding her eyes to him, and then to each empty chair, she frowned. "Did I...miss the time?" she inquired, pulling out her holodeck, and scrolling through the programmed events that were stuffed into her calendar. Her index finger swiped right, past the reaping, past the parade, her face bathed in the blueish glow of technology.
Her engagement ring was missing, the pale flesh it once hid stood out glaringly against the rest of her skin. Cy frowned--wondering if her holodeck had been tampered with, but it was more likely she had forgotten the time or day of the meeting.
Hospes was always the first one to arrive and the last one to leave a meeting. It was instinct; having survived off of a strong work ethic for much of his life, he found it physically impossible to be anything else. It was just painful to not be early or to be not leave late, and he reproached himself thoroughly whenever he failed his own ethic. Thus, when the other escorts departed the meeting room, almost in unison, Hospes remained to gather up his things, organize them, re-organize them, check his notes, re-check them, et cetera. This process usually took five or so minutes.
The door burst abruptly, disrupting Hospes’s daily routine. Flinching, he looked back, and stared at Cyph3r with wide eyes. She was in her usual jet-black garb; she seemed a little less at grumpy peace than usual. “Did I...miss the time?” Cyph3r asked, and ducked her head to look down at her tablet. Her slender, white fingers went up; somehow, they were rather eye catching. Hospes couldn’t quite put his finger on it, especially in his socially awkward stupor, but he did notice something, like a blur rushing by - striking, yet too sudden to be understood.
Finally, Hospes settled back into himself, becoming comfortable enough to socialize. “You missed us by a few minutes.” He settled his various notepads and tablets on the desk, and leaned against it. “What happened?” he added, more for conversation than concern. People missed meetings all the time; it wasn’t something to be obsess over. Besides, Cyph3r could take care of herself. “Hello, by the way,” he chirped pleasantly.