"—I don't know who the hell you think you are—" Brutus points his finger into my face. We've been going at it for about fifteen minutes. The styling crews had to be cleared out when he burst into my room after he heard I was home.

"—Who I am? I. Am. A. Person. Brutus. I'm not a fucking machine—" I pace around my room, trying my best not to rip my hair out of the two bubbled pigtails.

"—you disrespect the being a Career, you disrespect where you came from—"

"It's none of your business." My words apparently do nothing but piss Brutus off even more because he lunges to grapple me. Lyme shouts in protest and I quickly take several side steps to avoid him colliding with me.

Luckily, I swiftly dodge him—it's good to know that at least some of my training has stuck with me—and pick up a vase, holding it over my head as a warning for him not to take a step closer.

He seems to heed the warning because he stops advancing on me, even though he is still poised to strike, and continues saying, "Maybe in the Capitol they can't pick up on this shit, but we do. When you're talking about us it becomes our business."

"You ruined my life, so I'll continue talking about it all in whatever way I want thanks."

"If you think words don't have consequences, you're wrong. Even in private, there's always someone whose listening—"

"Oh, so, you're suddenly concerned for my safety?"

"Enough!" says Lyme, inserting ourselves between the two of us. "Brutus, I've heard just about enough of you, lay off the poor girl for once in your life, just leave her be. And you," she turns to me and I lower the vase, feeling a bit better knowing Lyme is in between us. "We are going to have a long, long chat when we get back in 2." I open my mouth to protest but she pitilessly pinches my lips closed, "And you are going to shut up and listen. Really listen. Do you hear me?" I nod. "Good, I'll let the styling teams back in. And if you two start it up again, I'll bury you both in the woods back home where no one will find you, understood?"

Brutus and I both nod and he moves to clear out of my room. I can feel Lyme staring at me, warning me not to say anything else to break the fragile peace she's brokered. I don't dare mess with Lyme when she's serious like this. But, as soon as he's left the room and is out of earshot, I mumble, "It's not like there's much styling left to do with that bald head of his."

Lyme shoots me a disapproving look, but there's a small, devilish smile hiding on her face. She doesn't say anything else to me before she calls out down the hall for the stylists to come back. I quickly place the vase back on the dresser where I found it before the team rushes back in to continue their work on me.

They finish up a rather natural and fresh makeup look which I voice to Gloriana how much I love it, hoping that she'll take note and do more looks like this in the future. She twists the two bubbled pigtails into a small crown that wraps around my head, giving some flair to the rest of my hair that they've straightened to flow freely down my back.

But to make up for the plainness on my face, she clears the room and sticks me into a poofy shimmering metallic gold dress and matching shoes. Even though the entire look is clearly meant to be showstopping, it lacks the usual edge my looks have, like a plunging neckline or something skin-tight. Something about it gives me an air of softness that I didn't even realize I was capable of giving.

This might be the first time that I am genuinely in love with the work that they've done for me, the only exception being that the tulle is a bit scratchy, but I can live with that. For the first time, when I look in the mirror, I see someone who is plainly and simply pretty. Not someone scary or intimidating, or even hot. Even during my interviews before the Games, they never put me in anything like this.

"It's...it's..." I try to get out to thank Gloriana.

She speaks quickly and anxiously, "—I know it's not your usual style but I thought we'd try something different with you handing off the crown and all. Go out with a dazzle so-to-speak."

"No, no, I love it, thank you," I say sincerely.

Gloriana pauses for a moment as her gaze softens in the mirror, and I swear I see a few tears well up in her eyes. She hurries off to grab a can of hairspray to do some final re-touches on my hair, leaving a small coat of shimmer on my dark hair.

We join the rest of the of mentors and stylists who crowd the main living area of our floor, and with nearly 50 people all around, I think for the first time I realize how unusual it is to have so many victors.

Fallon claps twice to get our attention, "Alright, everyone, smiles on, eyes up. Octavia and your team, we'll be showing up in a separate limousine since you're the outgoing victor. Everyone else please refer to the list to see what number you'll be in. Now, come Octavia, dear."

I move to exit behind Fallon along with Gloriana and her team but I hear one of the stylists say, "Such a diva," under their breath as I pass.

I have to resist the urge to say something back to him, but I instead hold my head high and keep walking.

The city is once again grid-locked like it was earlier in the day, which means I shouldn't really be surprised that there's a gaggle of reporters snapping photos of the drop-off location just outside of the gates of the presidential palace.

When I step out of the limousine, I'm met with a blinding wall of light from the flash of the cameras. Still, I do my best to keep my eyes open so they can get their photo and I can move on.

"Octavia, Octavia," I hear coming from the group of reporters that waits at the side of the red carpet. Thinking back on what Plutarch said about building a good relationship with the people of the Capitol, so I decide to oblige a few of them.

"Octavia, is it true that you're dating someone from the Capitol?"

I want to scoff, but I try to take a diplomatic approach instead. "I'm going to be really busy with some exciting work in the Capitol this year, I don't really have the time for a relationship at the moment. So, uh, no, not dating anyone at the moment." Satisfied with my answer, the reporter walks away, but another aggressively wrestles to the front to take his place.

"The Games are over. How do you feel about the statements you made about your tribute? Do you feel your confidence in him affected his behavior in the arena?"

"No," I shake my head. "I'm a mentor. If I wasn't instilling confidence in my tribute then I wouldn't be very good at my job now would I?"

But he doesn't go away like the other reporter. Instead, he doubles down. "Do you feel that your relationship with him affected your ability to work effectively as his mentor?"

"No. It's important for a mentor to get to know their tribute so then you can learn their strengths and weaknesses. Because I knew him beforehand from school, I already had a head start."

"Well, what about the rumor that you had a romantic relationship with your tribute?"

Now I don't know who would be saying anything so silly like that. But if I did hear someone say a rumor like that, I would have to tell them that I was just friends with Percy. Like I said, I'm far too busy with my work in the capital keep up any sort of relationship."

I feel an arm wrap around my shoulder as someone pulls me into a side hug, it takes a moment for the cologne to clue me into who it is, but luckily I've made sure that my smile doesn't falter. "Woah, are you asking her about relationships?" Finnick says in his switched-on voice. "I think you're barking up the wrong tree here. I don't really think she's the dating type. Believe me, I tried last year."

I see what he's doing so I let out a fake laugh, patting him on the chest as if he's just said something very cheeky. "What can I say, I'm a tough nut to crack."

The previously insistent reporter lights up, as if he's just gotten the scoop of the century, and hurries off. After a bit more talking Fallon comes to take me away from the reporters as she chats away with Finnick's escort.

We allow the escorts to get ahead of us and Finnick offers his arm to me which I hesitate to take. I hear Plutarch bouncing around in my brain and what he said about Finnick's suitors if he were to come "off the market". That would probably only entice them. And I don't want to be responsible for that. I instead motion with my head for him to go slightly in front of me and enter through the gates without me. Once we're safe behind the privacy the row of hedges provides, I finally take his arm.

The switch goes off in Finnick's brain and he leans over to me speaking low enough for the escorts not to be able to hear us, "This is the part where you say, 'thank you, Finnick'."

I am thankful that he interjected. He certainly saved me from committing a media faux-pas, and I appreciate the thought behind him trying to establish me as 'not the dating type' in the Capitol's eyes. But anyone with a brain who knows what's really going on behind the scenes knows that those words were meant to act as a shield against the Capitolian 'Courtesan' scene. "People like Plutarch are going to see right through what you did. I don't want you to get in trouble for me."

"That's for me to decide."

"I don't think your dates will be happy about you admitting that you were flirting with another victor."

"I flirt with everyone, there's not going to be any love lost here sweetheart," as much as the word would make any woman swoon, I feel the patronizing edge in his voice as he says it. "I move on so quickly, I really don't think they're around long enough to be allowed to mind."

"Don't call me sweetheart."

He ignores me. "You look really beautiful tonight by the way." I raise an eyebrow, waiting for a catch. "I hardly recognized you."

I give him a sharp elbow into his ribs as I laugh. "You're a dick."

"Ow, ow." Finnick giggles as he winces, holding up his hands in surrender. "Okay, I deserved that. I only meant it's just not your usual outfit. You look good in every outfit of course." Finnick sits down on the edge of a fountain that we've come across.

"Now that is the correct answer."

The escorts turn around to look at what the commotion was going on behind them but Finnick waves for them to go ahead. "Her shoe came loose," he lies to them.

I shrug innocently and nod, motioning to my shoe which is hidden under the puffy tulle of the skirt of my dress. Fallon simply rolls her eyes, shaking her head and I swear I hear the echoes of her muttering something about me being inelegant as her and Finnick's escort go on without us.

He gently taps my leg for me to give it over to him and looks up at me expectantly. "We at least have to act like your shoe actually came loose."

I nod and I pull up the skirt of my dress and raise my leg, resting my foot on his knee. I can't help but wonder if my shoe is going to leave a mark on the deep Navy blue dress pants he's wearing. He continues as he fiddles away with my shoe, "The real question is which style do you like better?" I don't know why, but it suddenly occurs to me how intimate this gesture feels. I'm glad he's too busy playing with the buckles of my shoe, pretending to fix them, because if he were to look up, I fear he'd see the blush across my face. And I don't think he'd ever let me live that down.

I clear my throat, honestly a little nervous to tell him I prefer to play dress up like this than I do with the tight outfits and daring hemlines. I don't want him thinking I've turned into some sort of wimp who likes to play Capitol princess in her free time. "It might come as a shock to you, but I think I actually like this dress a lot better." I pause. "Maybe it's because I feel like there's no ulterior motive behind it, you know? Like the sole purpose of me wearing this dress is to make me beautiful. Not scary or intimidating or marketable."

"Well then, you look absolutely breathtaking," he says as he taps my leg again letting me know that I can put it down and he's 'fixed' my shoe.

I put my foot down back on the ground and Finnick looks back up at me. I try to hide the red and blushed face from his view. "Thanks," I blurt out, "for fixing my shoe," I clarify.

his face softens for moment with an expression that I can't read then contorts into a mischievous grin. "I can't be seen walking around with a fashion disaster now, can I?" He lends his arm out to me once again as he gets up from the fountain and we continue the walk toward the presidential palace.

"Speaking of disaster, how was your morning?"

"Got off to a rough start," he says tensely. "But I was a little bit more worried about what was going on with my neighbor. There was a big commotion this morning that I heard through the wall, naturally. What about you how is your morning?"

"Not as bad as I thought it would be. A bit hungover but that's about it. It was a little bit interesting when I ran into Plutarch in the elevator though."

"Oh?" says Finnick pretending I've somehow delivered him a scandalous piece of unknown information even though he knows this already.

careful to avoid any prying ears in the bushes I continue to speak in code. "He actually gave me some advice on being a victor in the Capitol. What it all means."

Finnick eyes me warily. "What kind of advice?" he corrects himself quickly, "I mean, was it good advice? Bad advice?"

"Good advice I think I was surprised at how...insightful he was. Thoughtful even. Certainly, more than I thought an ex-Head Gamemaker was ever capable of."

Finnick grows a bit agitated at my lack of divulgence of what Plutarch said to me. "Which was...?"

"To be mindful of optics but essentially, keep doing what I'm doing."

"He said that?"

"In a much more convoluted and complicated way, but yes."

Finnick gives me a look that sits somewhere in between shock and pleasant disbelief. "That's good," sincerity washes over his face as he nods to himself, "that's really good." He stops walking and turns to face me. "I was, uh, a bit worried for you there."

I smile sadly. "I know." For all the acting he does here in the Capitol, the one thing he's not good at is wiping the worry off his face. I try and say something that will hopefully get rid of the expression on his face before we reach the doors. "Don't worry. I'm starting to get a handle on things. Just worry about what you need to do, and I'll be there. I'll be waiting. Every time. I promise."

Finnick chuckles miserably to himself, "Typical 2, making deals that they know they can't keep."

I want to argue with him, insist that no, I can keep this promise. That I'll keep myself out of trouble enough to ensure that I can be there for him. A promise both freely given and unconditional, yet, in reality, unclaimable. "You're right, but I'll try. I'll fight for it. And I'd say I have a pretty good track record of getting the things I fight for."

He shakes his head, a real smile on his face finally cracking through. "You really are something. But okay, I'll take that deal."

We've finally reached the steps up to the interior of the presidential palace and he lets go of my arm and we both stand there in a minute of comfortable silence, readying ourselves for the onslaught. Preparing ourselves to put on our best faces and play the Capitol game.

Finnick opens the door and motions for me to go through first, and the murmur throughout the room grows louder. And then, presumably when Finnick comes into their view, there are several low whistles, followed by a sea of roaring laughter.

I immediately spot Fallon on the left side of the room calling me over to a group of her and a few people I recognize as the sponsors who purchased some bread for Percy. Finnick is waved over by someone on the right side of the room, and with that, we go to separate sides. How it needs to be. But from across the room as we make small talk with the Capitolians we're surrounded by, I catch his eye and we both trade a knowing look. Separate, but connected nonetheless. How it should be.

I get showered with compliments about my dress, especially from Fallon who also seems to prefer my current style over the usual. Other victors filter in until all we're waiting on in the arrival of Johanna Mason, and the man of the century, President Snow himself.

"...did you hear," says Fallon. "Octavia is going to be the new face of the Mulier winter campaign. Since they live up in the mountains in 2, it's absolutely, positively perfect for her." She gently cups her hands around my face. "And such a natural beauty."

One of the women with a gigantic peacock-inspired dress leans over to me, "Gold is such a pretty colour on you. Have you ever considered dyeing your skin gold to match? My husband runs a clinic and I can get you in free of charge if you're ever interested."

Not really sure how to respond to that I simply smile and nod thankfully as my brain tries to think of something more appropriate to say than, 'if you come near me with that stuff, I'm going to drown you in it. "I—"

The doors bursts open and Johanna Mason storms in the door like a gigantic and dark blizzard could. The whispers in the room are full of concern before someone starts a clap that catches on. Johanna seems to pay the clapping no mind however, because she immediately blows past every person in the room, including the customary line of victors that has started to queue to meet her, and instead makes a beeline for the back of the room. For the food table no less. That is my type of person.

As I approach, she looks at me up and down and raises an eyebrow before returning her gaze to her plate that's stacked with food. "If you're gonna tell me I'm a bitch for killing your girl tribute, I'm not sorry," she says without even looking up from her plate.

"No, actually. I'm here to say thanks for saving me a trip home with her bragging."

My comment seems to have earned at least some of her approval because she smirks and then looks past me to Finnick approaching behind us. "And you are?"

"Finnick O—"

Joanna cuts him off. "Don't be an idiot. Of course, I know who you are. Both of you. I don't live in a shack in the middle of the fucking woods. But my question is why are you two talking to me? Don't you have some prissy little Career cult to go have an orgy with or something?"

Finnick's mouth hangs open at the girl's fiery comments, I don't think he's used to people being so blunt around him, and she makes me look subtle. He's used to being around people who dance around the point as they try—and fail— to seduce him.

"Just wait until you meet the rest of them," I say sarcastically. "Then you'll find out real quick."

Finnick finally recovers from his shock. "As long as you don't mind hanging out with us and the rest of the grandma squad, I think you'll find the Careers will leave you alone."

Now it's Johanna's turn to be stunned. "Grandma squad...?"

"Look what the cat dragged in, our new victor!" I hear Cashmere call from over my shoulder in the most irritating voice she's capable of putting on.

"Look, with the dog shit out," I whisper so only Finnick and Johanna can hear before she reaches our group.

"Hello, Octavia, Finnick," Cashmere says, drawing out his name in a sickeningly seductive voice. The smile on her face doesn't meet her eyes. Not until she turns to Johanna. "You look beautiful tonight."

"I look like a tree," Johanna deadpans.

"A very pretty tree," Cashmere insists.

Johanna purses her lips and nods in confusion. Finnick and I both exchange a glance, trying to figure out what sort of game Cashmere is trying to play here. "...okay?"

Cashmere regains her composure and tries again. "Right, well, uh, congrats on your win. If you want, you can come get a drink with me and some of the other victors later?"

"Uh, actually I think I might go hang out with these two. A Grandma squad sounds exactly like what I need right now. Not really in the mood for drinking at the moment."

This seems to get underneath Cashmere's skin with impeccable speed and efficiency that I've never seen before, not even in mine or Finnick's finest attempts. "Between you and me, you should watch your back with these two. She's a bit of a backstabber and he likes to try and charm the pants off of everyone he meets."

Johanna quirks her jaw and scoffs. "Well, it's that, or I could hang out with you and the other Careers until I turn into an even more massive bitch than I already am—which would be a miracle—but with you rubbing off on me, anything is possible," replies Johanna with a fake sweetness in her voice, replicating Cashmere's perfectly. "So, no. No, thank you. I think I'll take my chances with Stabby and Charmer here."

Finnick and I stand there in absolute shock and awe as Cashmere flees the scene of her being absolutely verbally massacred by Johanna. "I think you're my hero," says Finnick breathlessly to Johanna.

"You're telling me she gives you a hard time?"

Finnick shifts his weight uncomfortably. "She likes to get under my skin."

And for the first time since I've met her, or seen her on screen for that matter, Joanna grows serious for a moment. "I don't like bullies." She pauses, considering something before she starts again, "I only have two rules. I don't like fakers and I don't like liars. I'm a straight shooter. I'm honest. And if you can't handle that then you can't handle me."

I smirk, exchanging a smile with Finnick's face who is also lighting up. Johanna Mason is the breath of fresh air we both need. "I think we're going to get along just fine."

With every word that comes out of her mouth, Johanna turns out to be even more of a terrifying delight than I thought. We take her over to the table where Mags is sitting victors only room, and they strike up a conversation About the silliest outfits they've seen over the years. It's very hard for anyone to not like Mags, and Johanna is no exception; Mags makes quick and light work of breaking down Johanna's walls. Blight, her mentor, joins us at the table and they begin telling us all about the beautiful and breathtaking landscape that is the forests of District 7.

Johanna seems to relax over the course of the conversation and we're no longer met with the same biting edge after every comment. It's not hard to see that Johanna's bark is her defence mechanism. When the older victors get to talking, Finnick and I jump back into a private conversation with Johanna. I can tell that she eyes Finnick warily while he speaks, probably the same way I did last year like she's waiting for him to drop the charm just like Cashmere said he would. But when it never comes, she starts to relax around him too.

Soon Johanna is called away to show off her crown before the dancing officially starts. She begrudgingly does as she's asked and, as is tradition, once Snow gives the okay from his upstairs balcony, begins to dance with her escort Orion.

I however am stuck with the great displeasure of dancing with the current Gamemaker Felonius Harrington. The song eventually calls for a change in partners and I'm relieved to finally get away from the creepy old man who's been breathing down my neck for about a song and a half.

I instead find myself face to face with none other than Plutarch Heavansbee. "Miss Jones, I hate to interrupt your night but there is something important that you should know about."

My pulse quickens in sheer panic. Is this how it's going to happen? Is he going to point to someone across the room and tell me that I need to go with him, 'entertain' them for the night? As we twirl I desperately searched the room for Finnick or Johanna or Mags, or anyone with a friendly face to no avail. The beautiful chaos of the spinning dresses in capes makes it too hard to see past anyone.

Is this the night that they'll welcome me to the club of victors who are victimized by the Capitol in a worse way than anyone in the districts could ever guess? Maybe that's why I was dressed to look pretty and soft. So that as I'm whisked off to go meet the person they intend to give me to, I can at least hide the remaining innocence I have away in the dress. My stomach turns nauseatingly at the thought.

But no, I remind myself. Almost to my relief, I remember there's no one I love that they can use against me. Not anyone who's isn't already a victor anyways. And surely the Capitol would never dare touch even a hair on the head of one of their beloved victors? Right?

But maybe not an old one. They're not past using children. So maybe they'd be willing to hedge their bets on how much longer an old woman can live so they can suck me dry of everything I'm worth. That, or how easy it would be to make the death look natural. Besides, they got everything they could out of her already. They don't even drag her out to these events anymore.

"The president needs to speak with you urgently, but we don't want to cause a scene. You and I are going to smile and laugh, head over to the bar, and slip out through the backroom. Do you understand?"

I can't help myself the words just flow out like tumbling snow rushing to form an avalanche. "Why does he want to see me? What did I do? Plutarch, please I, I can't." And like the avalanche, I wait for my words to bury me alive.

But they don't, at least not yet, because Plutarch hesitates for a moment. "Octavia, I really think you're going to want to hear what he has to say."

What could President Snow possibly say that I would want to hear? I don't even listen when he gives his speeches, never mind a whole private audience with him. Maybe the words are a threat, but the way he said it, the tone of voice that he said it in, sounded like the one he used with me earlier this morning in the elevator.

Somewhere between being scared to death and completely frozen in horror, I don't protest when he takes my hand and leads me away from the dance floor. he then links his arm around mine just like Finnick had earlier this evening, but I don't take the same comfort in the gesture. in the short time I've known Finnick Odair I found solace in his protection, in his good intentions. But with Plutarch I've only come to the conclusion that his intentions aren't always entirely bad, but I can't say that they're anywhere near good either.

As I float like a petrified ghost past the bar, I notice Haymitch catch sight of me, probably of my shimmering gold dress at first, and then do a double take.

He must catch the pale expression on my face in his second look because I see his eyes flit to who I'm with and his expression falls. As Plutarch practically pulls me through the door the last thing I see of the party is Haymitch hurriedly getting out of his seat and taking a few outraged and anxious steps toward us before the door closes and seals me inside the eerily empty and blocked off hallways of the Presidential Palace.

______________

Wawawewa! This chapter was just below 5k, so longer than even last week's chapter! I ended up deciding to split it as I think the other part would've been too much happening in one chapter.

But damn, Octavia and Finnick bond some more, they meet Johanna for the first time, and let's not forget the fact that Octavia and Brutus almost got into a physical fight at the beginning of the chapter! Not to ruin anything, but note how Octavia doesn't seem to make a big deal out of something like that...almost like...ANYWAY, the wonders of first person point of view narration, am I right?

Oh, and before I forget, I've made some short trailers/edits for the series which can be found on my Tumblr (@ninjaswakwnedmystar) under the #ninjas edits, or posted to my feed page here on Wattpad! Be warned, however, there are spoilers (both posts will tell you what you'll need to have read up to in order to not be spoiled).

I think you can all guess what's coming up next week, so, as always, feel free to let me know if there are any awkward sentences or spelling errors, or even ideas for future chapter inclusions. This is the second chapter that I've tried using voice-to-text software for and I think I'm getting the hang of it? I of course go back to edit and also go over it with an editing software, but feel free to let me know if any errors slipped through the cracks.

I'd like to give a special thanks this week to AHardox for always listening to my little tangents about the story and helping me when new ideas pop into my head. And also thank you to everyone following along and commenting, both on this story and the OG, I am not joking when I say I read every single one of them. Y'all are hilarious so the comments you come up with are just *mwah* chefs kiss. And the long and heartfelt ones always make my day!

Anyways, on to the thing that also always makes my day, the chapterly memes. I went a little overboard this week so now you all will pay for it (they get more unhinged as they go so...):