I know this title does resemble a key-board smash, however, there's a hidden meaning behind it that pertains to this chapter, and I didn't want to be too obvious about it. Can you find it? Hint: It's not English.

Thanks to my new beta for all their help!

I'm looking for a new face claim, and I'm going to adjust the weight of the character because 13-year-old me did not know what an appropriate weight was for that height and body type. So please leave some face claim suggestions!

Also check out this manip that was made for me on tumblr! If you want to make a manip for this story I'll post it with credit!

And as always leave any suggestions down below or in my PM box!

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I groggily open my eyes. That was definitely the best sleep I've had in weeks. I turn to look at Finnick, who is still asleep. He looks so peaceful; there's no smug grin or fake smile anywhere in sight. It's just him.

Sometimes I can't even believe that he loves me. The girl born and bred a monster --from District 2 of all places-- is the same girl that this kind-hearted beautiful soul from the ocean is in love with.

If only he knew the deal I made with Snow. Or maybe I should say deals because there are so many conditions I have to meet. Saying that he wouldn't be happy is an understatement, judging by his distaste for me trying to win his nights back. He wouldn't like that I made a deal to get into the Capitol. He would hate that I didn't tell him about any of this. And worst of all, he would despise me for dealing with Snow.

Before I can dwell any longer, his eyes flutter open. He carefully reaches out to touch my arm. "It's actually you. I thought I dreamt it all again."

I chuckle. "Glad to know that your standards are low: girlfriend must not only be real in dreams."

His face drops into an un-amused glare, and point's his finger at me. "Whatever mood was just going on, you just killed it. Now I know this isn't a dream because usually in my dreams this is the part where--"

I shove him lightly. "For my own sanity, please don't finish that sentence." We both laugh at our antics and get out of bed, preparing for the day. I shower first and then go over to pick out my clothes for my meeting with Snow. I want something that screams 'power'.

I pick out a couple of outfits and lay them out on the bed, trying to decide what to wear. Then I see, in the back of the closet is a white power suit. Snow's signature colour. It would be a subtle nod to him that I think he would appreciate.

I pick it up and examine it. It's everything I want. I want to be like him. Snow. Untouchable.

I'm scared out of my thoughts when the bathroom door open's up and steam floods into the room. Finnick, a man with a constant flare for the dramatics, steps out in nothing but a towel. I try to not let my eyes ogle at him too much, even though he's my boyfriend, I know I don't want to feed his ego.

"Hey, hey, hey. Stop staring at my chest, my eyes are up here," he says sarcastically.

I roll my eyes. Yup, I am dating a man with seaweed for brains, just like Johanna suggested.

________________________________

I stepped out of the car in front of President Snow's mansion, wearing the white power suit and with a white flower brooch. I wanted to show President Snow that I was loyal to him, even in the subtlest of ways. It was especially important this year because of Cato going into the games. If I messed up this year, then Cato won't make it through the first night of the games.

But this year I've been good. I posed and lied when I needed to, I was a model district citizen and deposited millions for his personal bank account from the casino. I just hoped that he didn't find out that I wasn't telling him things about Johanna, or thought that I was too risky with my appearances with Finnick.

Although over the years, I feel like I've come to an understanding with Snow. We both want things; we've both killed to get it. That used to scare me, but now I've gotten used to the idea.

But that doesn't matter now, because the only thing that matters is not messing up this meeting.

I'm escorted into his office where he greets me with his usual handshake. I notice his eyes briefly glint in approval over my outfit choice. He lingers, looking at my brooch. "A white rose. What a lovely flower."

"Thank you sir."

"Now, to get on with our usual meeting," he says, opening his notebook, which I assume are all spy observations of me. "I've been delighted with your responses in the press lately. Plutarch says that you're even writing your own material in interviews these days, correct?"

"Yes, he taught me a bit about how to structure my answers and I've been improvising a bit here and there."

"Excellent," he says, ticking something off of a list. "And I'm very satisfied with your earnings this month. Although, you should be aware that when it comes to bidding for your lover's time, you've lost the bid too many times this year. I'm afraid if you're not careful, my hands will be tied, and then you're going to have to negotiate for your own time."

I try to not let this make me too upset. I wouldn't be able to save Finnick until after the next games at least. While I know Finnick will be mad at me either way, he'd be much angrier if he found out that I was the reason that I end up being 'rented out'.

"I understand," I said solemnly.

Snow makes a note his book and quickly moves on to the next subject. "Now for the rest of our little deal. You're brother, he's still planning on entering the games this year, correct?" I nod. "Good, I hear his training is progressing quite well."

"Has there been any news about replacing Seneca?" I interject. Seneca is known for being... less political when it comes to the games. He rose through the ranks of the entertainment world and sees the games as nothing more than a television program. He doesn't quite realize the complicated things going on behind the scenes or the significance of specific outcomes of the games.

"He's proven to be... difficult to remove. As you know, it would be much preferred to have someone else in that spot this year, but I've been assured that Seneca will at least cooperate this year. But I wouldn't worry, your brother doesn't need the assistance."

I try not to huff too loud. "He might be safe when it comes to other tributes, but I need assurance that he's not going to be taken out by some fireball or dam burst. Are you sure there's no dirt on him or anything that you can use? Heck, I'll go looking for it if I have to."

Snow smiles. "You know, I always like initiative. It would take a large incident to take Seneca out, but if you can find something worthy, I wouldn't be opposed to hearing it."

I try not to smirk. "And you wouldn't happen to know where he might be for the next few days?"

Snow gives me a knowing glance. "I'll have some papers delivered to your residence later today."

And with that, I bow and leave.

___________________________

My car took me directly to my next meeting, a meeting with Plutarch. I step out of the car and see Plutarch with outstretched arms waiting for me near the porte-cochere of his office, where many of the Capitol's elites in entertainment work.

I smile and give him a look as I exit the limo.

"Uncle Plutarch."

"Well, isn't it the million-dollar kiddo herself," he greets. He lends his arm for me to link with.

I laugh. "Hey, you can't call me that anymore. I'm 23 now."

"Like I said, kid."

I shake my head at him as we make our way in the door, with guards closely behind.

Once we make it to his office, he shuts the door and we finally have some privacy from prying eyes and ears.

I flop down onto my usual couch as he takes his spot in his chair across from me. I take off my high heels and throw my bare feet onto the coffee table, but not before grabbing a magazine and flipping it open.

"How many times have I said no feet on the table?"

"As many times as I've done it," I say, not looking up from my magazine. I continue to read for a few moments, before coming across a page with a model on it and turning the magazine dramatically to show him. Usually, I just waste away the hour in here talking with Plutarch, people have to think that he's actually asking me questions, right? "Do you think I'd look good with this haircut? Because I—"

"Octavia, we need to talk about something serious," he says. I look up from my reading and see the timid expression he'd been giving me this whole time.

"Okay, shoot."

"I've heard from my sources that Snow's people went out to District 7 again."

My heart drops. Johanna. Her circle of family and friends had been slowly shrinking since her games, and it wasn't due to natural causes. It's weird to think that the old man that I just met with has a part in this. I try and push those dark thoughts out of my mind though, it's the same person, but it's not the same person, right?

I look to Plutarch for a bit of hope.

He shakes his head. "There's nothing we can do. If the people sent out don't succeed then more will just be sent in their place."

I contemplate this for a moment. There's nothing I can do to save one of my closest friends from heartbreak.

"This has all come full circle, hasn't it? Snow made you meet with me to get me to trust you enough to tell you about Jo, and here you are giving me the info about her."

Plutarch was sent to gain my friendship and trust to make sure that I wasn't lying about anything in my reports. I had left out many of Johanna's anti-Capitol outbursts, not wanting to be the reason people came after her loved ones. I knew what was going on pretty quickly. The only thing Snow didn't count on was me gaining Plutarch's trust and respect; it's a two-way street. Ever since then, I've been feeding him information from the casino and other places he can't reach, and he's kept tabs on my friends for me.

"And Finnick?" I ask. Like me, I know that Finnick is "managed" by Plutarch when it comes to Capitol appearances, him being the Head of Propaganda for the Capitol.

"Finnick is in a good spot for now. Snow hasn't been offering him as much as in the past, and I've paid off some people to pay for the nights and no show, as far as Snow knows I've done it to keep your trust so no worries there. Should be clear until after the next games. But I have heard that you kid, need to be more careful."

"Me?"

"Yes, you. No one cares if you go out with Finnick and there's tabloids, but I recently came across this story," he says, flinging a testimony across the table.

I pick it up and begin to read. It's the woman who I 'stole' Finnick from last night. "She went to a reporter and claimed that you paid her to have a night with her boyfriend."

"Well that's ridiculous!" I yell.

"I know it is. We blackmailed her with the receipts of her 'purchase' and made her sign an NDA, but if this kind of story got out, other people wouldn't know that it's not true."

I roll my eyes. "Oh c'mon, that's only one person."

Plutarch is not having any of my sass right now. "Svenca, Trenti, Heff, Granger, James, all complained to a Snow or a reporter about you. And that's just since the last games, shall I go on?"

Feeling defeated, I shake my head.

"Good. Now onto Seneca."

I look at him questioningly, how does he know that already?

"Don't go for it. My people haven't been able to dig up anything, and he knows that I'm your manager. Seneca may be dumb when it comes to politics, but he's smart when it comes to the entertainment world. Your brother will put on a good show, and that's all those people care about. Seneca will want your brother to win because he's got entertainment value. Especially once he figures out who he is."

Plutarch is aware of my idea to not announce Cato's lineage until he's in the games to make sure there's not a big target on his back. But that's not where my focus is. It's on the fact that Plutarch, lover of all information, is telling me not to pursue it.

Don't go after someone for information? Since when has he ever told me to not go after a lead? "So you're telling me to not go after him? Snow wouldn't give me that type of information if—"

"How many times do I have to let you know that you're expendable to him, kid? He wants something from Seneca, and it has nothing to do with you or your brother. He's using you."

I get defensive. "I might be getting used right now, but he knows I'm useful, he respects me I—"

Plutarch throws his fist down on the coffee table in anger. "Respect isn't going to stop your body from ending up in a ditch if he decides you're a liability. You understand?"

His voice gets quieter, he's not yelling anymore. "I think you've forgotten things over time. He threatened you. He threatened Finnick. And if I were anyone else, hiding what you knew about Johanna would've caused Snow to strike at you with no mercy. You always say that you don't like him but I don't think that's what you believe anymore."

I go to interrupt, but he stops me. "Stop thinking like a career. Remember who the real enemy is," he says in a hushed tone.

_______________________________________

I'd been repeating Plutarch's words in my head like a mantra since I saw him: remember who the real enemy is. My car pulls up in front of the building where my actual apartment was, a nice spot in between the tribute training centre and the casino.

I walk in the door that an Avox footman is holding for me, happily surprised at the lack of paparazzi outside of my door. I make my way into the elevator and see the tribute centre come into view as the elevator climbs.

I walk in the door of my apartment and notice something is off. I slowly creep into the family room of my apartment, cautiously looking around. I hear some noises coming from the kitchen and I grab the knife that I'd hidden above my fireplace. Knife at the ready, I make my way towards the kitchen.

I peek my head in the room, looking to see who was there and immediately sigh in relief.

"Hey there--" says Finnick before his eyes widen at the knife in my hand. "Oh, Woah Woah Woah, put the knife down there missy, wouldn't want to damage the pretty face."

I roll my eyes and put the knife on the counter where he had been cutting up veggies for a salad. I make my way over to him. "You. Scared. The. Living. Shit. Out. Of. Me." I say, hitting him lightly with each word.

He playfully tries to fight me off. "I was just trying to make you a salad!" he laughs, pointing at the vegetables he'd chopped.

"I didn't think I'd see you until tonight," I reason.

"Well, after my meeting with Plutarch this morning I was told that I could have lunch off," he answers. How generous. A whole lunch to himself.

I quirk my eyebrow. I hadn't known that he also met with Plutarch today, he'd failed to mention that when I met with him.

"Relax, we didn't talk about you. Much," he tries to assure me.

I look at him.

Finnick breaks. "Don't worry about it; we were just talking about how we need to keep an eye on you, that's all. Nothing different than what you two talked about me I'm sure," he assures. I'm not sure that Finnick's given me the whole truth, but I don't press the matter. All I want to do is spend time with him, not talking about stuff like politics.

I move on from the subject and look at the salad. "Need help?"

He nods. "I assume they taught you how to use a knife normally, and not just how to throw it at people, right?"

I give him a playful shove and get to chopping some peppers while he washes some of the lettuce in the sink.

It doesn't take him long and soon he's behind me, looking over my shoulder to watch how I'm chopping the peppers.

"Why are you cutting them like that? What did those peppers ever do to you? Is that what they taught you in the academy? To chop everything like your life depended on it?"

I give him an un-amused look.

"Here," he says. His hands lightly grab mine and begin to guide them, showing me how to gently chop the peppers. "See that wasn't so hard."

I'm suddenly very aware of his body pressed up against my back now that I'm not focused on chopping. I turn around to face him and smile up at him mischievously, his hands still holding onto mine.

"What?"

"I love you," I say.

He winks at me. "I love you too. " We stare at each other for a moment. "So are we gonna keep making the salad or...?," he asks.

"The salad can wait," I reply slyly.

"You know I was hoping you would say that," he replies in a husky voice. He leans down to kiss me, and suddenly we're locked in a passionate embrace. His arms wrap around my waist to pull me tighter into him. Last night we decompressed watching TV and caught up. But now we were making up for it. Oh boy, were we making up for it.

_____________________

The biggest problem with Finnick or I going anywhere is that we have to be very cognizant of our surroundings. In my own world, I'd like to avoid the club scene. But every time any Victor comes to the Capitol they're required to make an outing like this, to make things look less suspicious. Naturally, Finnick and I like to take our outings together. But even the slightest glance could be photographed and documented as evidence of our relationship, not something that I particularly mind, but something Snow did not like. Mostly because Finnick needed to be on the market to be able to be "lent" out. Can't have a fan-favourite Victor spotted "cheating" on his girlfriend all the time right?

Honestly I try not to think about what Finnick has to do unless I'm actively trying to get him out of doing it. He's talked to me about it all before, I've held him as he cried. Been by his side when he wakes up, scared of where he may be. But once this deal comes through I know I can get him out of that life, right?

My car arrives at the nightclub, the most exclusive in Panem, at least that's what I'm told. After Finnick left my apartment he said he would meet me at the club after some more meetings, so I'm not sure if he's here yet or not.

Lights of cameras flash outside of the club, and I hear several reporters calling my name. I make my way over to a couple of reporters. "Miss Jones, Mr. Odair just came through here and responded to the comment you made about him yesterday when you called him 'not that good looking', would you like to hear it and give your two-cents?"

I smirk. "I would love to hear it."

The reporter excitedly flips his notebook to make sure he's reciting an exact quote. "I would date Octavia, except I'm pretty sure anyone she dated would come second to her knife collection."

I let out a laugh. "Well, my official response, and you can quote me on this, is that he's correct. I love my knife collection more than any man."

The reporters thank me for my time and I make my way inside.

I instantly scan the area. Finnick was by the VIP bar in the upper area, being bombarded by women. But perhaps the more interesting thing was that Seneca Crane was staring me down from the balcony of the upper level.

I give him the fiercest smile I could manage. Never let anyone see your weaknesses.

I walk up the stairs, making sure that I put an ere of danger into every step. Seneca is waiting for me at the top of the steps. My eyes briefly look to Finnick for help, but he's still occupied and hasn't even noticed that I was here. I then flick my eyes up to Seneca, hoping he didn't see my look for help.

"Miss Octavia Jones," greets Seneca. "Fancy meeting you here." Not really. I knew he would be here. I found that information in the information that Snow sent me. The problem was that Plutarch told me not to go after Seneca. But I'd already told Finnick that I wanted to go to this particular club by the time I decided to heed Plutarch's advice, so I couldn't get out of it without explaining a lot of things I didn't want to. Truth be told, I was hoping to avoid him all night.

"Mr. Crane," I greet.

"Please, call me Seneca. Please, join my friends and I at our table. We're all big fans of you," he says politely. Of course, it's not really something I can say no to. If I were to say no to sitting with the head game maker, it could lead to problems that I don't want. When someone with that much power over the games invites you to something, you say yes.

I let my eyes quickly glance at Finnick again, but he's still trying to get out of his conversations. "I would love to," I say, trying to give my best devious smile. He's an entertainment man and I need to make sure that I keep up the character that the Capitol thinks I am.

He extends a hand to me, which I lightly grab onto, and he leads me to a set of couches and armchairs where some other men are sitting.

"Everyone, this is Octavia Jones, but I'm sure you all knew that already," he says. He introduces me to everyone at the table. There's a mix of sponsors, game makers, and other TV and magazine men.

"I can't stay long though boys," I say. "I planned for a night out with a friend." I point to Finnick.

One of the men laughs. "I think he may be busy for a while." I try not to roll my eyes. Very funny, how original.

Seneca pulls out a chair for me to sit in and then sits in one directly across from me.

"We're all such big fans of you my dear. We think that your games were one of the most entertaining in Panem's history, if not the most entertaining," says one of the sponsors.

"It's one that I like to re-watch constantly," says another. "I mean, you have the highest number kills out of any Victor."

Great. How many people I've killed is not something I wanted to talk about.

There are so many choice words I wish I could use, but I don't. "Thank you. That's what the games are for anyways, right? If it's not a good show, then what's the point?" I can feel the career half in me and even Snow, approving of my answer. The other half just feels sick.

Seneca raises his glass in agreement. "That's exactly what I say." Now I've got his attention. I can see him staring at me as I make small talk with those around me.

"Miss Jones, would you like to join me for some air on the balcony?" asks Seneca.

I feel my smile falter and immediately try and put it back on. "Yes, I would love to."

On the balcony I try to not let my nerves show. Octavia the career from 2 would never show weakness.

Seneca breaks the silence. "I hear you have a twist up your sleeves for the upcoming games."

I instantly know what he's talking about. Cato. How Seneca found out, however, is a different story.

I decide to act coy. " I haven't the slightest idea as to what you're talking about."

He laughs. "Oh, c'mon. You aren't going to share with the Head Game Maker?"

"It's going to be a surprise," I say slyly. "And by the definition of a surprise, I need people to not know about it before it happens. Trust me, it'll be much more exciting for the viewers that way."

He seems to like my answer. But he still wants more. He reaches for my arm, which makes me feel very uncomfortable. "You can tell me. I'll keep it a surprise for everyone else. I just want to know."

I try not to let the discomfort of his touch show on my face. "I'll tell you..." I say, a wicked grin on my face. "When I tell everyone else." For a split second, he looks pleased. But then I finish my sentence, and his face seems stunned.

Another presence on the balcony makes itself known at the same time: Finnick. I leave a stunned Seneca and make my way over to Finnick.

I can tell just by the way he's looking at me that he's dispirited, but to anyone else he looks like regular cocky, flirty Finnick. I give him a glance, letting him know that I'm okay.

I link arms with Finnick and finally feel like I'm out of the woods with my conversation. "Seneca, I'm sure you know of my friend Finnick here," I say, introducing the two.

Seneca extends his hand to shake. "Pleased to officially meet you, Mr. Odair."

Finnick accepts his handshake, his other arm still linked with mine. "Please just call me Finnick; all my friends do."

Despite Finnick's friendly words, his handshake must be rather firm because of the brief discomfort on Seneca's face. I see Seneca's eyes flit to mine and then back to Finnick as if he's questioning something.

Seneca breaks the handshake and clears his throat. "Well, it's been nice meeting the both of you. I suppose I'll see you when you're back here for the games."

Finnick and I go to walk away, but I hear Seneca call my name. "I'll be waiting for that surprise," says Seneca, holding his glass up in cheers.

I give him a head nod and turn back around. I try not to smirk. Maybe having Seneca as a game maker wouldn't be so bad.