Just an FYI, writing parts of this chapter broke my heart into a million pieces. I can't believe we're halfway through the first book/movie and, therefore, Act II of our story. This is the longest chapter by far at 7.5k words. Enjoy!

The song for the chapter is from the Hunger Games soundtrack itself, and one of my favourites "Tenuous Winners/Returning Home". It's a great song to put you into the vibes of the chapter if you like to read with music as it's all instrumental. 

The morning air at the President's house is crisp. Snow always likes to get a head start on the day and wake up early. "An 11?" questions President Snow as he cuts the thorns off of a white rose from his bush. He remains seated on a bench while Seneca Crane, who he summoned, stands in front of him.

"She earned it."

Snow looks up from his rose pruning, unamused. "She shot an arrow at your head."

"Well, at an apple," corrects Seneca.

"Near your head." Seneca nods, understanding not to push things too far. "Sit down." The Headgamemaker obliges and sits next to Snow on the bench. "Seneca, why do you think we have a winner?"

Seneca looks around for a moment, confused by the question. "What do you mean?"

Snow doesn't concede and presses his question even further, not letting Seneca escape answering. "I mean, why do we have a winner?" Seneca remains silent with no answer. Yet, Snow wants Seneca to answer for himself. "I mean, if we just wanted to intimidate the districts, why not round 24 of them at random and execute them all at once? Be a lot faster." Still, Seneca doesn't seem to get where this is going at all. "Hope."

If Seneca wasn't thoroughly thrown off before, he is now. "Hope?"

"It is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective." Snow picks some leaves off of the rose he is holding. "A lot of hope is dangerous. A spark is fine as long as it's contained."

After all of the explaining and hand-holding, Seneca still doesn't understand. "So...?"

"So contain it."

"Right."

Seneca is ushered out, leaving President Snow on his own. Although, he is only left alone for a few moments because a pair of footsteps can be heard echoing throughout the garden. "Sir," greets Plutarch. He gives a small polite bow of the head when Snow looks up from his rose pruning.

"Plutarch, to what do I owe the pleasure? I've been dealing with the girl from 12's crisis all morning. I trust you bring some more interesting news."

Plutarch considers his words for a moment. "Possibly. Octavia Jones has asked me to relay a message to you."

"Has she now?" In amusement, Snow drops the rose and turns his full attention to Plutarch.

"Yes, sir, she has," says Plutarch, mild discomfort in his voice.

"Well then, let's hear it."

Plutarch looks up, trying to make sure that he recites the quote exactly. "She said, and I quote, 'the white rose brooch wants to know how the pretty rose got so many thorns'."

Suddenly, Snow starts to chuckle, a deep, hearty chuckle, which some might describe as unsettling for a man of his demeanour. "Oh, I bet she did say that."

However, Plutarch is behind. He still doesn't understand what it means. He's worked out a few possible answers, but he isn't sure about anything. "And what do you think it means, sir?"

Snow stops chuckling and turns to his Propaganda Minister. "I think it's best for you that you don't know. Willful ignorance is much easier to act out than feigning it." Still, Plutarch can't work out what's going on.

Why Octavia, someone he's fostered, saved from Snow on multiple occasions, is now sending communications to Snow that he isn't privy to. It doesn't sit right with him. Especially considering the plans that have been put into motion. "Right then, sir, I'll leave you to it." He turns to exit the garden but is stopped by the President calling his name.

"Plutarch. She's clever and cunning. Right now she's contained. But she needs to stay that way."

"Sir?"

"Don't let her pull the wool over your eyes," Snow answered simply. Plutarch nods and turns back around, with a lot on his mind to think about.

Octavia's POV

I take the sleeping mask off of my face. Fallon gave me a special one with a cold compress in it and some sort of oil that was supposed to help me stay calm. Last night was rough, and it wasn't due to alcohol. It was due to that stupid girl from 12. But today, I need to focus on Cato and Clove.

Before the scoring fiasco, I promised that I would take them down to the training facilities. The trainers are no longer down there since training is over, and now it's open to any Mentors and tributes who want to use the facilities. Finnick also agreed to come down with me previously, so I hope he's remembered and woken himself up in time to make it.

I can't hide the fact that I actually get a little bit excited for this day each time during the games. It's the first real day where you can do whatever you want. I open up my wardrobe and pull out a uniform that they had made for the mentors. They're nearly identical to the training uniforms that the tributes have, but instead of the district number on the back and sleeves is the number of the games each Mentor won; therefore, mine has three big 68's on it. Luckily Mags isn't here, or else she would be 11, which might cause some confusion for people.

I tie up the laces of my toes, making sure that they're secure enough not to come undone and then do my hair in the same fashion. By the time I reach the apartment's main room, it seems Cato and Clove have been waiting there for quite a while since they're sitting on the couch and chatting. "Alrighty, we ready to go?"

Both of them spring up from the couch; this is what they're used to, training. During my games, I found the most comforting thing not to be the food but the ability to train; it reminds me of home. I imagine it's a similar feeling for them.

As the elevator descends, we can see that there's no one else in the training centre, though I imagine District 1 can't be too far behind and hopefully Finnick as well. We do some dynamic stretching to warm up and a little bit of light jogging just to get them moving. They both sit down to catch their breath, and I stand-up in-front of them to explain the rules. "So, as you both know, neither of you can spar with one another because of the rules, but, as your Mentor, you are allowed to with me." Both of them nod in understanding. "But, before that, why don't we do some weapons warm-up, just specialties though today guys, we don't want any sore muscles going in. Got it? Good." I clap, letting them know to go to their stations, and I feel like I'm back at the academy teaching.

I stand with my arms crossed over my chest and watch them both from afar. "Good, Cato, now try your backhand." He nods and flips his sword so that he's holding it in a reverse grip. "Clove, make sure you get a few long-range shots in as well." Clove pushes a few buttons on the tablet which pushes the dummies close to the back of the range. Naturally, she lands every shot.

After a while, Cato decides he's satisfied and puts his sword away and makes his way to watch Clove. She's on a roll, hitting some magnificent shots from a good distance away. After throwing her knives, Clove turns to me and holds out the knife set as the mechanical dummies reset on their course. "C'mon, Octavia. You know you want to..."

I do want to. I don't want any of the other Mentors to see me doing it though because I would never hear the end of the teasing. My brother begins to chant my name, "Octavia, Octavia!"

I give in to the peer pressure and grab the knives, causing Cato and Clove to cheer. I place the knives down at the table and move over to the tablet. Difficulty? Hard. Targets moving? Check. Range? Farthest. I press start and take a deep breath. No pressure.

The first dummy lights up and I make sure to hit it square in the chest bullseye. Then out of the corner of my eye, I see another in the back row light up and I whip my knife as fast as I can at it. Taking a move out of Clove's book from earlier in training as I go to pick up my third knife I whip back around and shoot the third dummy. The next one is rather close, so I decide not to put as much spin on it and more force; it lodges itself so deep into the dummy that even part of the handle gets buried. Finally, two targets near the back light up at the same time as I hold one knife in each hand. Split seconds apart, I throw one and then the other with as much force as I can, hoping to lodge them similar to how I did with the last one. Luckily for me, or perhaps not, since I doubt luck has much to do with it, they both lodge deep into the targets' heads.

I hear a slow clap behind me, which startles me a little. I spin around to see that Finnick is there with his '65' uniform on. "Not bad. I think I could've done a bit better, but not much."

I roll my eyes even though I'm secretly happy he's in a joking mood. "Be careful, or else I'm going to have to challenge you to a duel. Which, of course, I would win."

"Finnick, why don't you show us your trident skills?" asks Cato.

Clove nods her head enthusiastically. "Oh, yes, please!"

To my surprise, Finnick agrees. "You don't have to ask me twice to show off." We all walk over to the sword area that Cato was training at before. Finnick grabs a spear from one of the weapons racks and holds it in his hands for a moment, getting a feel for the object's weight. Impressively, he swings it in a figure-eight motion around his body and then falls into a ready stance. He moves in a flurry of motion, stabbing all of the dummies with force. More impressively, the trident never seems to become stuck as he pulls the trident out with such strength that it hardly gives him pause.

Cato starts to cheer. "That was wicked!"

I try and hold back the laugh caused by my brother being a total dork. Finnick claps a hand on my shoulder as he passes by me to my brother. "Why, thank you. It's nice that someone around here appreciates my talents."

Clove's eyes light up like a light blub. "We should do a competition. Both of you take your preferred weapons to the spear-throwing range and see who gets the best shot."

Now this, I can get behind. "You're going down, Odair," I say as I walk by to grab a single throwing knife.

He picks up the trident he was using and walks over to the spear-throwing range. "I wouldn't be too sure about that."

I steady myself at the line and so does Finnick, who is shaking out his arms. Neither of our weapons are meant to be thrown at this type of distance, yet I know I can make the shot since I've done it in practice before. "On your marks...get set...throw!"

Thwick.

I release my knife and give it a hard whip, using a lot of my body's mass in the throw. It seems Finnick has done similarly. Both of our weapons land in the dead centre of the targets, although Finnick's trident arrives a few lengths sooner than my knife because of the weight difference.

Somehow, I'm surprised. I know Finnick is a Victor, and he very clearly keeps in shape, but I never considered that he would be practicing at home in District 4. Seeing Finnick, the man I see as a happy-go-lucky goofball, just threw a shot that would kill anyone who hit it. Yet, on the other hand, I feel immensely comforted by the fact that he is ready to take on anyone if need be.

Finnick gloating takes me out of my thoughts. "Mine totally got there first, so I win."

Cato taps Clove on the shoulder. "Let's go see if we can judge whose is closer." They both run down the range towards the targets.

I walk up to Finnick with my arms crossed in amusement. "Well, mine is clearly in the pin of the centre, so I win."

"Well, that's because mine is bigger," retorts Finnick.

I make a disgusted face. "Ugh, let's not go there." Finnick smirks, seeing that he's gotten under my skin.

"It's a tie!" calls Clove from the end of the range.

I roll my eyes at Finnick. "Great."

"Don't worry. Next time I won't let you tie with me."

"Shut up."

~~~~

"No, repeat after me," I say to Cato. We're in one of the conference rooms that runs off of the training centre, sitting across a table from one another. "I'm prepared. I'm vicious. I'm ready to go."

I can feel Cato's frustration growing with me. "I'm prepared, I'm vicious, I'm ready to go."

I sigh. "You didn't say it right."

Cato sits up a little out of his seat and points to me. "I said it exactly like you said it!"

I run my hands over my face. And stand up from my chair. Maybe I should have asked Brutus to do this part. "Let me go get us some water."

"And a protein bar, please," calls Cato from over my shoulder. I make my way to one of the craft services tables and grab two water bottles and a protein bar. On my way back, I see that Finnick is leaning on the wall outside the door that leads into the room Cato is in.

"How's he doing?"

I slump my shoulders over. "Not good. He's too...arrogant--even though that's the angle he's going for. He's trying way too hard." Finnick nod sympathetically, and it gives me an idea. "Can you go talk to him? Ple-e-e-ase."

"Fine. But only because I like Cato, not anything to do with you." Despite the sarcasm, I appreciate it.

I hand him Cato's water bottle and his protein bar. "Thank you." Finnick disappears into the room to hopefully straighten Cato out.

"What's going on over here in Career world?" Of course he's here.

I turn around with my arms crossed over my chest to make sure they don't turn into flying fists. "What do you want, Haymitch?" I say dryly.

"Look, I know you Careers are all in bed with one another--some more literally than others-- but I've been around the block enough times to know that people don't just have chats with other people's tributes."

Of course he saw that. "He's just proposing a couple of formal offers to him. And between you and me, my kid's a big fan of Finnick's so I decided to make it happen for him," I lie. "Is there a reason you're here testing my patience, Haymitch or is it just for fun this time?"

"Actually, I have a proposal for you."

I roll my eyes, not really knowing what he's on about. "Well shit Haymitch, if I knew you wanted to marry me I wouldn't have started to date Finnick." Even though I'm angry with him, the sarcasm is too strong within me. Hopefully, I can make him uncomfortable enough to leave.

"I'll keep that in mind, sweetheart, but as terrifying as that sounds, I don't think we would've worked out," Haymitch says sarcastically back. "Anyways, I meant a games proposal, not a marriage proposal. My boy, Peeta, wants in on the Careers."

I quirk an eyebrow; this is a surprise. A welcome one, but still a surprise. "Really? What happened to the two kids on fire?"

"He sees the attention Katniss is getting. He knows only one of them can win."

I consider it for a moment, even though I know that we wanted him on our side. "I'll have to take it up with the rest of the Mentors but I'm sure we can work something out. Although, they're going to want proof that this isn't some sort of setup." Haymitch goes to speak in defence of Peeta, but I continue. "Look, Haymitch, he seems like a fine kid but they're going to need some sort of proof that he's not going to turn around, stab our kids in the back, and run off with Katniss."

Haymitch nods in understanding. His voice grows serious, which is a rare occasion. "Tomorrow. Pay extra attention behind the scenes after his interview. That will be proof enough. Bouncing on my feet, I take a deep breath and look around the room. I want Peeta, but I also don't understand why Haymitch would throw his best chance under the rug. "Look, I know that this whole Girl on Fire thing has gotten in-between the two of us, but this isn't about her. This is about Peeta. I need to get him as far as I can, and he's safest with the Careers."

"We'll think about it."

"Right, well, think quickly because...meet Peeta Mellark." If I could see my eyes I would bet they look like they've jumped out of my head. Please don't do what I think he's going to do. Please no. To my fear and detriment, Haymitch walks backwards and waives down one of the hallways. A few seconds later, low and behold, Peeta walks into my view and Haymitch puts a hand on his shoulder. This is not what I wanted to be doing today. Meeting someone who my brother might have to kill up close. "Peeta, meet Octavia Jones."

Peeta extends his hand politely to shake mine. "Nice to meet you, ma'am."

I want to run away so bad. This kid seems nice. Any other year I'd probably be rooting for him. "Please, just call me Octavia. Ma'am makes me feel like I'm old like Haymitch."

The corner of Peeta's mouth turns up in amusement. "Octavia here is going to be the one to try and get you into the Career pack. Isn't that right, Octavia?"

A guilt ambush is what this is. I smile at Peeta. "I'm going to try my best."

"Look, Miss Octavia, I know you have your own tributes to worry about, but with Katniss...I don't think I stand a chance." This kid is good. Really good. No wonder Haymitch brought him to pitch in-person.

I nod. "I'll see what I can do."

~~~~

"Interesting proposal," says Brutus. All the Career Mentors have gathered around a private conference room table to talk over the final agreements. They seem pretty interested in Peeta joining.

Finnick looks up from twiddling around a pen on the other side of the table. "I think we need to wait it out, see what Haymitch has in store and go from there."

Giving Finnick the side-eye, Cashmere turns to Brutus and me. "I agree. He's been walking around here so smugly. I don't trust him."

Enobaria sits forwards to chime in after listening for so long with a pure game face and her legs crossed. "He hasn't been drinking lately. That's a huge red flag. He's got something up his sleeve."

Gloss nods with his hands folded together. "I say if we let him in, we let him lead our guys to Katniss and then dump him right after." Everyone choruses in agreement.

I feel a pang of guilt flash through me because I met the poor kid. Maybe I would've stood up for him if it weren't for my brother. But these are the Hunger Games, and if you lose, you die. "I agree. Dump him as soon as possible. Can't risk a betrayal, especially when we don't know what that girl did to get an 11."

Ever the leader, Brutus takes my words as a chance to segway. "I've been thinking, did anyone notice a station she avoided? Is there anywhere she didn't go?"

We all begin to list off the stations we definitely saw her go-to. However, there are several left unaccounted for.

"Maybe our new ally Peeta will tell us," jokes Cashmere.

"If he even knows, people don't always get along with their partners," says Brook snidely. I don't know what her problem is, but she has several so I don't know where to start. The meeting adjourns not soon after and Finnick hangs back, waiting for me. Brook gives a weird glance back as if she's waiting for Finnick to come back with her, but then realizes he isn't coming.

Once she's out of the room, Finnick turns to me. "Ready to go?"

"You know it."

Finnick POV

This time, I make sure not to run into Cato. There is absolutely no way that this kid is awake at five in the morning. I'm just going to sneak away and go back to sleep when I get to my own room.

"Dude, seriously! Do you even sleep in your own room?" Busted.

I turn around to see Cato sitting at the table with a bowl of fruit. "Do you ever sleep, dude?" I ask him back.

Then I see it on his face. He hasn't slept. "I couldn't. I was just tossing and turning. I just thought I'd get up. Do something productive." I think back to the conversation we'd had the day before; he's nervous.

"Look, Cato. Don't worry too much. They're just interviews. Pretend Caesar is your sister and you're going through your usual banter."

"My sister doesn't have blue hair."

I sigh. He's not getting it. "That's not the point. The point is, just be your usual cocky-self and they'll love you." I walk over and take a strawberry out of his bowl. It's like a reward.

He turns to me thoughtfully. "Finnick, you're cocky too, right?"

Well, that's blunt. "Well, yes, that's what people say."

"Do you ever wish people saw you as something else? Like, do you ever wish people didn't see you like that all the time?"

That's a loaded question. But the truth is I do wish that. If I weren't seen at the cocky, suave, strapping young man when I was younger, maybe they would've left me alone. That's the Finnick I have to wear at all times now. It's not that I'm not him, because I am. But I wish I didn't have to be on all the time. That I could just be whatever side of me I feel like. But Cato can't know all this. If he knows what's waiting for him on the other side he might not want to come out. And Octavia nor I can afford that. "Yes. I do. But I know that's not who I am."

Cato shakes his head. "I don't want to be the ruthless guy all the time."

I put a hand on his shoulder. "And you don't have to be. Octavia knows you aren't. I know you aren't and I've only known you for what, a week?"

Cato gives a small chuckle. "Yea, I guess."

"Well, then there you go. Cato the 'sometimes-ruthless-guy' it is."

I gather my things and head for the door again. "My sister is lucky to have you," Cato says from over my shoulder.

"Don't tell her I said this, but I'm the one who's lucky to have her." For all she puts up with, the nightmares, the Capitol women, I'd be lost without her. She's my guardian angel. Some nights when I've been 'rented' out, after I've done all my crying and dreading, I walk into the hotel room scared for what's waiting for me, it turns out to be her. And she just sits there, acting like what she's pulled off is no big deal. But it means everything to me.

Even though she was doing...whatever flirting manipulating thing she was doing to Seneca Crane, I trust her. That doesn't mean I liked it per se, but she always puts up with me when I have to bring around my 'dates' so I can at least return the favour. People don't make sacrifices like she has for me and then let someone else get in the way. I just hope Seneca doesn't get any ideas. He's a powerful man in this town, and they can get away with anything they want.

Octavia's POV

I'm almost done getting ready for the interviews when I hear a commotion happening across the apartment. Shit. Cato must be freaking out or something. I walk across the apartment putting my earrings on as I go. As I get closer to the other side of the apartment, I realize that the yelling is coming from Clove's room and not Cato's.

"...get your freaky glitter off of me!" The stylists are trying to do Clove's make-up but she keeps swatting their hands away.

I look to the stylist and their assistants to let them know I've got it handled. They quickly scramble out and leave me with Clove who won't stop staring in the mirror. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

"They keep dressing me up like-like this," she says as she motions to her dress and hair. Her orange dress looks gorgeous on her and her fair is done half-up and half down with unique braids throughout.

"I think you look beautiful, Clove." I stand behind her and turn her head gently so she can see herself in the mirror.

"I-I've never seen myself like this. Done up I mean. I want to be strong. I don't need to be pretty."

Ah, so that's what's going on. I felt intimidated too when I arrived in the Capitol. So many beautiful people in one place. "You can be both. And I think you are."

Clove gives me a small smile which lets me know I'm on the right track. "I always think of you like some big sister who always knows what to say and do."

Her words feel like they're going to break my heart in two. Tomorrow, as much as I don't want to and will try not to, I'm going to be thinking of her as an obstacle to Cato. I don't know what I can do for her—my little protege in knife throwing, my mini-me. So, I decided to lead with a bit of honesty. "Trust me, most of the time I have no idea what I'm doing," I admit. The trouble that filled the air a few moments ago seems to have vanished. "You look great tonight, Clove. Why don't I let the stylists back in to finish up?"

"Sure, but no more glitter."

I chuckle. "Got it, no more glitter." Just as I am about to walk out the door and grab the stylists I think of something. It's small, but it's something that I can do for her. "Hey, have you put any thought into what hairstyle you want for tomorrow?" Clove shakes her head. "I know they don't usually do repeats, but would you be interested in wearing the way I wore it? I don't know if you remember what it looked like but--"

"The bubbles," says Clove quietly. I can hear a quiver in her voice and I hope that my words haven't upset her. I--

Clove stands up from her seat in front of the mirror and rushes over to me, pulling me into a hug and hiding her head in my chest like she's a little child. But really, when I think about it, that's exactly what she is. I can feel the tears through the material of my dress. I stand there in shock for a moment and I feel the tears pricking my eyes. I've grown attached to this girl. Too attached. I wrap my arms around her to reciprocate the hugs. I don't know what to say as my eyes fill with more tears. So I lie. Not for my sake, for hers. Because it's what she needs to hear. "It's gonna be okay, Clove." The lie stabs me in the chest every time I repeat it. "It's gonna be okay."

~~~~

I close the door behind me and look to see the stylists waiting just there outside the door. I feel the anger bubble in me; I didn't want them to see me with tears under my eyes. "You can go in and finish up, no more glitter. Which one of you is hair?" A boy with blue hair raises his hand. "You're coming with me." He nods nervously and follows me across the apartment to my room. I sit down in my own chair in front of the mirror. "I need you to do whatever style you did on her. Exactly the same. Got it?" He nods again and reaches for a brush. "And tomorrow, I want you to do her hair like it was done for my games, got it?" He nods again.

~~~~

"Ladies and gentlemen, your master of ceremonies, Caesar Flickerman!" Caesar stands up out of his chair with a huge smile plastered on his face. He wavies to the thousands of people in the audience. "Welcome, welcome, welcome, to the 74th Annual Hunger Games!" The crowd cheers. "Now, in about five minutes, they're all going to be out here. All of the Tributes you've heard about. Are you excited? Let me hear it!"

Finnick turns to me from looking at the backstage monitor of the stage. "Do you think he ever gets tired of this?"

I open and then close my mouth after I think about it for a moment. "No, somehow I feel like he's always like this."

The tributes begin to walk down the hallway we're in towards where they're meant to line up. Finnick notices as Clove walks by with the same hair-do as me. "Did you girls plan to match or something?"

I try not to sound bitter in my answer. It's not his fault, I tell myself. He doesn't know. "Something like that."

Luckily, Cato walks out of his dressing room and does a little spin so we can get a full view of his suit. I walk over from Finnick towards my brother so that I can get a better view. "So, how do I look?"

"Like someone about to captivate the audience," I notice a piece of lint on his silver jacket and brush it off. "Go get them." I clap him on the shoulder, giving him the signal to walk off and join the line.

Out of the corner of my vision, I see Haymitch eyeing me from the edge of the District 12 dressing rooms at the end of the hall and he looks like he's thinking too hard. I don't think he can work out that Cato's my brother by the time they leave tomorrow morning for the arena but I'm not about to chance it. I send Haymitch a wink and then I grab Finnick's hand to pull him into Clove's now unoccupied dressing room. "Wave to Haymitch," I say through my teeth so that my mouth doesn't move. Finnick gives a small wave in the direction of Haymitch as we disappear into the dressing room. I can only imagine the evil smile on the old man's face now.

Finnick shuts the door behind him. "Haymitch being nosy again?"

I nod. "He was thinking a little too hard for my liking. I--"

The dressing room door opens and Johanna walks through with a giant bag of popcorn. I'm not exactly sure where on earth she got that, but I don't question it because of who it is. She flops down onto the plush red couch and puts her feet up onto the coffee table. "What's up losers, show start yet?"

"Any minute now," I say, glancing up to the monitor where Caesar is still warming up the crowd, though they always seem to be rabid. As if on my cue, Caesar announces Glimmer to come out onto the stage.

"Boo!" shouts Jo as she throws popcorn at the screen. I shake my head fondly at the woman; she sure knows how to keep things entertaining. I flop down onto the couch next to her and raise my hand to grab some of her popcorn. She swats my hand away, but I try again.

We watch Glimmer and Marvel both get their three minutes. Glimmer comes off as quite ditzy which I think is a mistake for her, but I'm not her mentor. Marvel on the other hand goes for a funnyman angle which works sometimes and others he's too nervous to laugh. Caesar is a good sport though and laughs at all the jokes, no matter how unfunny they are.

Next up is Clove. Her orange dress looks so pretty in the stage lights, I think the stylists did a fantastic job. They needed to show a soft side of Clove since she's always presented as so fierce and they've managed to make her look like a princess. I sit forward in my seat and press my knuckles to my mouth. "C'mon Clove lay on the sweetness."

Clove shakes Caesar's hand and sits down into the seat. The moment she opens her mouth I know the interview is going to go well. She's able to mix her sweetness and sarcasm into a nice little package. Although a hint of her arrogance shines through, it doesn't impede the overall tone; rather it enhances the sarcasm. "I can kill someone from half-way across the training centre," boasts Clove.

"For those of you who haven't seen the inside, the training centre in the Tribute Tower is absolutely ginormous, so that is a huge feat," explains Caesar. He's always so good with the kids. "Now, Clove, looking back, is there any previous Victors you hope to emulate throughout these games?"

"Yes, actually. One of my mentors Octavia Jones." I feel Jo and Finnick's eyes turn to me, but they don't say anything. I don't know how to describe the whole situation other than as messed up. It's not Clove's fault of course, rather, I blame whatever forces in the universe made this messed up irony.

"Ah yes, good choice. From District 2, a knife-thrower like you, and the highest number of kills recorded by a Victor. Do you hope to break that record?"

"I don't hope. I will."

Caesar gives his signature laugh. "The confidence, we like it, don't we?" The crowd roars in agreeance. "Well, that's all the time we have with Clove. Give her one last warm round of applause!" The cheers of the crowd rumble so much that we can feel it all the way in the dressing room.

One down, one to go. Clove will be making her way back here unless she runs into Brutus or Enobaria in the hallway. Surprisingly, it's not Clove who walks through the door but Brutus. "Clove wants to wait backstage for Cato. Enobaria is waiting with her."

Instead of sitting, he just stands at the back of the room. I secretly hope that Jo won't make any remarks to Brutus, but that may be too much to ask for.

Luckily, Jo can't get a word in before Caesar comes in over the room's loudspeaker. "And we are back from break! Next up, we have the second half of our tributes from District 2, Cato Smith!" I rocket up from my seat, not being able to contain my nervous energy. Cato walks out onto the stage and does a little nod and wink at the audience.

Finnick pump's his fist. "Yes! I taught him that." Of course he did.

Cato sits down in his seat across from Caesar after shaking his hand. "So, Cato, tell me, you're clearly a strong man, how often do you work out?"

Cato gives a small chuckle. "Every day, sometimes multiple times per day. You can never be overprepared, Caesar."

"Spoken like a true Career. We were all very impressed by your striking armour at the Tribute Parade, weren't we everyone?" The crowd cheers.

"From 2 we're known to be warriors, we're strong. The armour is only an outward expression of who we are on the inside." I don't know about anyone else, but I was surprised to hear something so...philosophical come out of Cato's mouth.

"Yes! I taught him that," exclaims Brutus. I blink in confusion, that's...interesting.

"Look at that ladies and gentlemen, he's got brains, beauty, and brawn!"

Cato does well keeping up with the small talk and he eases into his seat, sitting back and crossing his legs showing he's got a mastery over the interview. He comes off as ruthless just like he needs to, but still likeable. "It's an honour representing my district."

Caesar nods along. "You're a fighter."

"I'm prepared. I'm vicious. I'm ready to go." There it is. He's hit all of his talking points perfectly.

Caesar begins to wrap up the interview. Before Cato leaves the stage, Caesar grabs his hands and throws it in the air, pointing at him with the other hand. "Cato!" The crowd erupts again, the loudest one we've heard so far.

Everyone in the dressing room begins to move around now that Cato has gone. Jo slides past me, "I'm getting out of here before the little monsters come back. I don't like children." Fair enough.

As Jo exists and the door opens, I can hear Cato, Clove, and Enobaria's chatter echoing closer. All three of them burst into the door in a bundle of excitement. Cato and Clove are arguing and joking around over who did better. Typical.

"There were so many people in the audience. I think the whole Capitol was out there in the crowd. And when I was up there, I felt so...so...powerful," says Cato in a daze.

Finnick massages Cato's shoulder's to loosen him up and pats him on the shoulders. "Good job, kid." Finnick reaches for the doorknob and waves. "Well, I've gotta go, my guys are coming up soon."

Things start to settle down around the time the girl from 7 is up and Cato and I slump down on the couch. "Did you see that? Imagine how much they're going to freak out for me tomorrow when you make the announcement."

I smile. "They're going to go nuts."

Cato sits back in the couch and spreads his arms out, letting his head sink back into the pillows. "Are they that loud during Victor interviews?"

I take a deep breath. He better be around to see his. "Even louder."

~~~~

Thresh only answers in single word answers, which yes will make him mysterious and seem powerful, but leaves a bit to be wanted. He'll get plenty of sponsors, no doubt, but he missed out on the power of the likeability factor.

Soon up is the one we've been waiting for, Katniss. Cato grabs my hand to squeeze as soon as she goes onto the stage. This is his biggest competition. Katniss blunder's through the first part, completely zoning out and not hearing what Caesar says. I can feel a sly smile play along my lips. She's going to crash and burn.

To my dismay, she seems to recover, in large part to Caesar. Damn his helpfulness. She manages to land a joke, although I'm not sure she meant it to be funny. And then, to top it all off, she starts twirling. The flames dance off of the skirt of her red dress. The crowd eats it up and I can feel Cato's grip on my hand get tighter. "That was really something Katniss, that was really something. That was something. Thank you for that."

I pick up some of the popcorn pieces that got dropped when Jo was sitting on the couch and hurl them at the screen. "Yea, that was something alright. Something awful. She nearly fell over! How can you win the Hunger Games when you can't even stand up properly?"

That gets a few chuckles out of the tense bodies in the room, even Enobaria and her extra sharp teeth have a small smirk.

"I have one last question to ask you," says Caesar to Katniss on the monitor. "It's about your sister." He takes Katniss's hand and pats it. "We were all very moved, I think, when you volunteered for her at the Reaping. Did she come to say goodbye to you?"

"Yes," answers Katniss. I can hear her trying not to get emotional. I feel a pang of guilt hit me. She did what any good sister would do. "She did."

"She did," says Caesar, delicately nodding along. "And what did you say to her in the end?"

"I told her that I would try to win. That I would try to win for her." I feel my grip tighten on Cato's hand. I don't want to let him go.

"I'm going to win, I'm going to win for you," whispers Cato. His words nearly break me. I've never wanted him to win for me, I want him to be safe. I want to protect him, keep him away. Katniss...Katniss succeeded where I can never, will never. She kept her little sister far away from this place. And for that, I envy her.

I'm brought out of my thoughts by the rumbles of the audience cheering again. It's louder than Cato's. But I won't tell him that.

Next up, and the last one up before I can go to sleep, is Peeta. I remember Haymitch's words about hanging around backstage and I go out into the hallway, mumbling to Cato and Clove to stay put. Cashmere, Gloss, Finnick, and Brook have all gathered, ready to see if Peeta really is going to throw the line down in the sand like we were promised.

We all huddle around the hall stage monitor. The shorter of us, Cashmere and I, standing in the front of the group. "Five bucks says he does it," whispers Gloss to Cashmere and I in the front.

"I bet ten he chickens out," I retort.

"Deal." Gloss and I shake on it without moving our eyes from the screen. Even though Finnick is behind me I can feel him rolling his eyes.

Peeta starts out really well. Like really well. He's actually quite funny, and his jokes land in the way I'm sure Marvel wanted his to. He's got a natural stage presence, a gift really. It's too bad that this is where he's ended up.

And then Caesar asks him a seemingly magical question. "Is there a special girl back home?"

Peeta shakes his head. "No. No. Not really."

"No? I don't believe it for a second. Look at that face. Handsome man like you. Peeta, tell me."

"Crash and burn?" whispers Cashmere.

Peeta looks a little bit uncomfortable but starts to answer anyway. "Well, there...There is this one girl that I've had a crush on forever." Caesar sends a knowing look to the audience. "But I don't think she actually recognized me until the Reaping."

"Isn't that the story of my life," murmurs Brook. In some sort of miracle moment, Cashmere and I lock eyes, both with the same look of mockery. I guess I'm not the only one who doesn't like Brook.

"Well, I'll tell you what, Peeta. You go out there win this thing, and when you get home, she'll have to go out with you. Right folks?" Caesar begins to laugh and the audience cheers in approval.

"Thanks, but I don't think winning's gonna help me at all."

"And why not?"

Peeta takes a breath before responding. "Because she came here with me."

I say the first thing that crosses my mind. "Oh, shit."

~~~~~~

And there is Peeta's big reveal! How will the Career pack Mentors react to Peeta's profession of love? The next chapter will be the fallout after the interviews and sending our tributes off to the arena. Secrets are about to be revealed and relationships are about to be tested. Stay tuned for more!

As always, leave any suggestions you have in the comments or DMs, and let me know what you liked or disliked in the chapter (i.e. more or less alternate POVs, and ideas) so I have that in mind when writing the coming chapters. And thank you to my lovely beta grayjoys .

Onto the only reason you probably read this story, the Chapterly memes:

Octavia when she meets Peeta and falls into Haymitch's guilt trap: