꧁ chapter six ꧂
party preparations

GALA OPENED THE FRONT DOOR, prepared to step into the darkness of her hallway, but instead she blinked as light flooded her eyes. It shone down with blinding intensity from two overhead lamps.

She let the door fall shut behind her as she set aside her keys and walked down the hall.

Suddenly, a figure darted out of the kitchen into the hallway, dressed in a purple tulle dress and high heels that clacked loudly across the wooden floor with each step. Gala frowned in surprise at the sight of her cousin, whose hair was hidden under a skin-colored cap, which meant that she had either just taken off her wig or was about to put on a new one. Although her headgear was... let's say, questionable, her makeup looked fresh and elegant. Only the lipstick was missing, so Megga's lips looked ghostly pale compared to her pink-painted eyes. The way the pink of her makeup clashed with the purple of her dress led Gala to conclude that Megga had not yet changed for tonight's party, but was very much already putting on make-up.

"Megga?"

"Gala!" her cousin yelled excitedly, rushing toward her and then giving her a light and brief hug.

"What are you still doing here?" Gala blinked a few times, returning the hug as long as it lasted. "Are you getting ready for the party here?"

"Yeah, that's right, I wanted to surprise you." Megga nodded and grinned at her, noticeably excited and happy, as if waiting for a reaction from Gala.

So Gala said, "A surprise it is."

Megga then didn't let any more time pass - she grabbed Gala's forearm and pulled her rather roughly behind her, back into the kitchen, down a narrow hallway, and then into Gala's dressing room. All the while she revealed her plan for the next few hours:

"I brought Vassa with me. She's going to do my makeup and help me with my dress," she explained. „And for you, I brought Corinne. I thought we could get ready together. Like we used to do when we were little and secretly robbed our mothers' closets together. We had so much fun then, and I feel like I've seen you so little lately."

When they arrived in the dressing room, Megga whirled around to face her and asked eagerly: "Are you happy?"

Gala did not hesitate to nod her approval. She chose her next words deliberately. "Yes, I suppose I am. That was very thoughtful of you."

Megga broke into another of her beaming grins, and Gala noticed that her own lips were twitching upward as well, although she couldn't really share her cousin's euphoria. Megga had this way of smiling that made Gala's heart feel all warm and fuzzy. She felt that way about all her cousins. She had no siblings of her own, but Megga and her brothers were like "real" siblings to her. They had been raised the same, had grown up the same, and Gala was closer to no one than to them, even though they were all very different in character.

When Gala was serious, Gylbert was silly.

When Gala was sarcastic, Osmund was direct and genteel.

When Gala was quietly observant, Megga was in the middle of the limelight, enjoying the attention she was given.

Gala noticed all these differences between herself and her cousins, as well as among the Phipps children themselves. Sometimes she wondered how they could be so different when they shared not only the same upbringing and environment, but also the same gene pool...

It wasn't until Megga came to a stop next to a young woman with yellow hair, several shades more gaudy than Gwin's hair, that Gala noticed the two women in a corner of the room, almost hidden behind the open closet doors (incisively, they were rummaging around in Gala's closet). Gala gave a skeptical look to Vassa, whom she had of course already met more than a few times over the past years, whereupon the latter quickly pushed the closet doors shut, all the while smiling apologetically at Gala, as if she hadn't just been searching and examining her bra and underwear drawers.

In this respect, Vassa was not much different from Megga - they were both far too curious for their own good. And the young woman with the yellow hair was also seemingly more intrusive and brash than was appropriate.
As if Megga could read her mind, she immediately proceeded to introduce Gala to the strange woman standing in her dressing room - even though Gala had never invited her in - not that she had invited Vassa or Megga in, while on the subject...

"Corinne is Vassa's assistant, you know. She's well trained and will make you look fabulous."

"Isn't Vassa your assistant?" Gala asked skeptically.

"Yes, and every good assistant needs a good assistant. Besides, Corinne is also just sort of, let's say, an intern. She wants to learn from Vassa and now she's copying her every move and for me it's quite convenient. Now that I have two people assisting me and taking some of the burden off my shoulders." With these last words, Megga dropped onto the chair that stood by Gala's dressing table. On the latter, Vassa and her assistant had spread out a variety of makeup utensils. She had apparently brought several make-up cases with her. Megga sighed, sounding exhausted while tilting her head back. "But today Corinne will be assisting you. I know you prefer to do your own makeup and fix your hair on your own as well. But give it all a chance, okay? Give Corinne a chance."

Gala had actually been about to send Corinne home. She had bad experiences with makeup artists and actually enjoyed applying her own makeup. It was fun and relaxing, therapeutic even. Doing her makeup took her mind off of the things in life that were stressing her out, and every time she was done she felt like she had accomplished one of the many things off of her to do list. But when someone else was touching her face and putting creams on her skin that she wasn't used to, the relaxation factor got lost, on top of that, she only felt more stressed than before. And she didn't feel accomplished at all.

Gala gave Corinne a quick glance, whereupon she smiled back nervously. Gala was not at all convinced, but when she noticed Megga's pleading eyes, her stern expression softened a little.

"I'll give your surprise a chance because it's really sweet and because I don't think I have much of a choice, do I?"

Megga had already made herself at home in the dressing room anyway, and no matter where Megga went, Vassa followed and Gala could only assume that no matter where Vassa went, Corinne followed.

"No, you really don't. After all, Vassa is already applying my make up." Megga grinned, beckoned Vassa to join her, and meanwhile looked at herself contentedly in the mirror. "I thought you'd come early to get ready. It's already quite late. You'll have to hurry, or rather Corinne will. I, for one, couldn't wait any longer."

She pointed at her face, not taking her eyes off her reflection.

"I can see that. It looks really pretty, by the way. I like the pink."

"That's not pink. That's salmon."

"Salmon is pink. A shade of pink, anyway." Gala took off her coat and hung it in one of her closets. "Regardless, the color suits you."

Megga suddenly whirled around, and Gala was surprised, because Megga had never found it easy to turn away from her reflection once she had lost herself in it. She pressed her hands to her temples and said sorely, "I almost forgot to introduce you properly!

"Vassa, you already know my dearest cousin, but Corinne, you haven't had the pleasure until now, if I recall correctly. This is Gala Montelago, daughter of my most precious uncle Cleos Highbottom, formerly Montelago, and although her name is probably not familiar to you, she is very much part of the Phipps family. And of the Highbottoms, of course, although she has not yet wanted to take the name."

Shaking her head, Gala contradicted her cousin, "It's not like that. I just put no value to changing it. It's a waste of time I can't afford right now. Sooner or later I will change my last name."

This was a difficult issue for Gala. She hated it when conversations took that direction, when Megga brought up the name Montelago.
The last name that her family had once been so proud of and that was now ashamed of. The last name that Gala could have dropped long ago after her 18th birthday. Years had passed since then and she still hadn't managed to get rid of the name Montelago. She would have liked to blame it on the fact that she had not yet found the time, but she actually knew that it could not only be because of that. Something else prevented her from going to the authorities and immediately taking the name Highbottom, although it would actually be much easier for her to do just that. She would make her family happy. She would save herself some wry looks from insiders.

"Hopefully sooner than later. I only want what's best for you, Gala. And in this day and age, the name Montelago is worth nothing. You know that, you airhead."

Megga had always been careless and cheeky. It was typical for her to speak openly about taboo subjects, simply because she constantly forgot that every action had its consequences. That even she was not excluded from these consequences. She was fearless and Gala had never known if that was a good thing or a bad thing, because those who were fearless were often naive. And being naive was dangerous. Gala knew that all too well.

Megga had always been lucky enough to be able to afford her fearlessness, because her life came with a certain basic contentment and the privilege of being carefree. Her fearlessness was not yet dangerous because she had never asked herself questions. She was too content to ask questions....

She was a thoroughly happy person and therefore she could be fearlessly open. Gala had never been fearless. She had always been cautious, even as a naive child. Now she was no longer naive, she was no longer wishfully happy, but she was still fearful.

Megga did not know when to shut up. She spoke whenever it suited her, about whatever suited her. She was never on guard. She didn't know that feeling, so Gala was on guard in her place. Someone had to be.

Within the family, maybe once in a while they would talk about the name Montelago, and how important it was for Gala to change it. Her family constantly reminded her of this, whether it was her father or her grandmother Lobelia. But the Highbottoms and Phipps only talked about the potential name change within their own four walls.

Gala had never understood how a secret like the name Montelago could be so well-kept and so public at the same time. She suspected Snow had a finger in the pie. He always had a finger in the pie.

"I think I should go unpack my dress," Gala announced, successfully changing the subject before Vassa or Corinne could start asking questions. "So Corinne knows what direction I want to go with my makeup, right?"

"That's a good idea. Vassa and I will continue with my makeup in the meantime."

—✺—

After unpacking her pretty, fine dress, she told Corinne about her specific ideas for the makeup look, and the two retreated to Gala's bathroom, where there was a second, albeit slightly smaller, dressing table for them to make use of.

The distance to her cousin and her assistant offered Gala enough privacy and quietness to be able to enjoy or at least tolerate Corinne's presence to some extent.

Corinne was a friendly, reserved person, not necessarily shy, but very cautious, which Gala appreciated. She was not as extroverted as Megga or Vassa, insecure and yet she had a strongly developed curiosity that led her to utter cheeky and thoughtless questions every now and then. But Gala did not mind, because if she did not want to answer a question, she simply did not. She had the ability to remain silent, which Megga lacked. Corinne was not necessarily someone sensitive enough to know which questions were appropriate and which were not, but Gala had immediately noticed that the young woman did not mean any harm, and so she decided not to take her questions over her head either.

Corinne was not a bad make up artist. She painted Gala's eyebrows quite skillfully, she had chosen the right foundation and applied it evenly on her skin. She was not a very fast worker and hesitated and overthought every step too much, and Gala still believed that she herself could achieve a better result in less time on her own. But in the meantime she was willing to at least give Corinne a chance, even if more for Megga's sake than for the young assistant's.

But all of Gala's generosity was put to the test when Corinne moved on to apply Gala's eye makeup.

It became messy. Gala had to watch skeptically as Corinne tried to draw a sensible eyeliner. And failed. Miserably.

With each failed attempt, Corinne became more nervous and each subsequent eyeliner became correspondingly more skewed.

"Darling, I think we should try a different eyeliner. This one doesn't quite match the shape of my eyes. Don't you think?"

Gala looked at Corinne through the mirror glass, watching as the latter's concentrated expression fell, giving way instead to a mixture of disappointment and relief at the same time.

"Y-yes, I'm so terribly sorry.", the yellow-haired girl stuttered. "I-I should have known that eyeliner wouldn't look good on monolids."

"Don't worry about it. Practice makes perfect." Gala replied simply. "Didn't you ever get to do Megga's makeup?"

Corinne's cheeks turned pink and Gala was glad anew that she had never been one of those whose feelings were clearly written all over their faces. She wasn't the best at telling lies, Finnick hadn't been wrong when he'd pointed that out to her in the elevator. But she was, after all, great at plotting and planning lies - and that ability made up for the sometimes too blank face she put on whenever it was her turn to tell someone a lie.
And while she wasn't nearly as good as Finnick at putting on a fake but near-perfect smile, she was a lot better at hiding what she was feeling and thinking than Corinne was.

"I've only ever gotten to watch Vassa. We thought - I mean, I thought that was enough."

Silence fell over the room as Gala merely watched the assistant's assistant through the mirror with her eyebrows drawn together.
It was as if she had finally been handed the last missing piece of the puzzle.

"So I'm kind of the first guinea pig." Gala stated sharply.

"What? No! I-"

Gala immediately cut her off by briefly waving her hand through the air.

So that had been the real reason Megga had brought Corinne with her. Not to make it easier for Gala to get ready. Not because she was wallowing in childhood memories and missing Gala and them spending time together. Possibly that had been part of the reason, but her main motivation was that she needed someone on whom Corinne could try out and practice her makeup skills - and she herself didn't want to be that person...

"You're lucky I can be a compliant guinea pig if I want to be."

Corinne remained silent. She couldn't think of a suitable answer, it seemed.

Good, Gala thought. She preferred Corinne's silence over any kind of excuses and apologies.

She had no time for excuses or apologies. She had no time for disappointment. Therefore, Gala decided not to be disappointed just because Megga had done herself a favor, really, rather than Gala. Quite frankly, anything else would have surprised her. It was not in Megga's nature to act selflessly.

She was not surprised. She was most definitely not disappointed.

However, she was impatient. And she made that very clear to Corinne.

"We'd better leave it at that - no eyeliner today. Instead, I want to try something more daring, which I'm sure you'll do just fine. How about I do the makeup on one eye and then you try to recreate the look on my other eye?"

"Yes- Yes, I can do that!"

Gala nodded and set to work explaining everything there was to explain to Corinne.

—✺—

Gala glanced at the screen of her communicuff as she recognized the approaching figure.

"You're on time." she announced.

"So are you." he called back, as if it were a miracle, which it was not, considering that Gala was almost never late.

Finnick's eyes traveled upward along her body until they finally met her eyes.

He wore dark suit trousers on which silver shapes were embroidered - the outlines of fish and shells, to be exact. They had been sewn on so finely that the pants looked very tasteful, although they sparkled brightly in the moonlight. His shirt was teal blue in color, the top buttons undone as usual, so that one could catch a good glimpse of his trained chest. His hair had been coiffed with gel, which was unusual, but suited him very well, and around his neck hung a delicate chain of tiny shells.

He grinned at her as he came to a stop directly in front of her. "You look truly enchanting, sweetheart."

Her dress was - as Megga had claimed - far too plain. Black was not a colour Gala rarely wore, but at events she often tended to choose bolder colours. Not so today. The neckline of her form-fitting black gown had an extraordinarily large neckline, covered by a gold-toned breastplate, just about intricate enough to cover up her bust. This beautiful piece of jewellery was gifted to her by a dear friend and she loved it not only because it reminded her of Glimmer, but also because it was simply unique. It was shaped like the human lung. A necklace like nothing Gala had ever seen before. Finely crafted and incredibly detailed, adorned with crystals and made of pure gold. It was not so much her dress as the necklace that was to be the centre of attention. Her hair was also perfectly coiffed, but nothing could match the jewellery piece that covered her otherwise bare chest.

Gala frowned at him. "I'm aware."

She had never liked compliments. She did not need them. And never had. Gala didn't need validation from those around her. More precesily, she didn't want it. Nothing was more distorting than the so called validation from outsiders. Nothing was further from the truth than the opinions of her peers. Compliments made people over-estimate their abilities and get a bloated self worth.

As a wise man once said, A great person or thing does not gain even a fraction of a single degree of greatness, when complimented; or lose it, when not complimented.

"Quite an ego you have there, sweetheart." he said, raising a brow.

"No. My dress is beautiful. I am beautiful. I know that. I don't need compliments to know that." Gala replied in a matter of factly manner.

Finnick grinned again, his lips were already about to form the next cocky words, she was sure of it, but she interrupted him before he could even start talking.

She handed him a printed page of paper with a multitude of names written on it.

"This is a list of guests you should avoid at all costs."

Finnick studied the page for a moment and with each name his expression became more bland and sober.

"What has Ilyn LeMoine done to deserve to be on this list? She's a lovely woman. Her husband is the problem, not her."

"The rumor mill says she's having an affair." He didn't look surprised. Then the rumor had probably reached him, too, although he had been in District Four at the time the affair had probably taken place. "And you should know that it's not appreciated when a woman cheats on her husband."

He scoffed. "Izan LeMoine cheats on his wife all the time. I thought that was common knowledge."

"Like I said, it is not appreciated when a woman cheats on her husband. Cheating in general is frowned upon, but when a woman does it, it is taken differently than when a man does it. Ilyn LeMoine will recieve a lot of icy looks and cold shoulders in the coming weeks. Until the situation eases up, you have to stay out of her way."

"This is ridiculous." He eyed the list in his hands with a critical frown.

Gala shrugged her shoulders as she pulled out the next list from her black velvet handbag.

"It is what it is. There's nothing you or I can do about it. We can only adapt to the situation, do you hear me?" she emphasized the last words to make it really clear to him that she had no patience left for any escapades this evening.

He sighed - he had done that a lot in the last few days - and then replied, "So I'm staying away from Mrs. LeMoine. Likewise from Mr. and Mrs. Siegfried and Mr. Canton."

Finnick paused, an indescribable glint in his eyes, which might have seemed enchanting or bewitching had Gala not had the uneasy feeling in her stomach that what this very glint really meant was danger.

She recognized it as the glint she had seen in Finnick's eyes at the time of his games many years ago, when he had been fourteen years old, in an arena surrounded by so many different dangers, fighting for his life, killing...

That's how he looked now, too. Only older and much more finely dressed than he had been then.

That very glint was reassuring and unsettling at the same time. Gala often forgot how different from each other Finnick and she had grown up. What different life experiences they had had. What different fates awaited them.
The Capitol and the districts were as different as night and day. Although she had known that for years, she had probably never really understood it and probably never would.
What was it like growing up in the districts? What was it like to spend your childhood in constant fear? Was it even possible to spend your life in constant fear?

Did they fear for their lives since they were very young? Gala's biggest worry as a child had been whether her parents would buy her the right dolls for her birthday.

A lot had changed since then. Gala had... experienced a lot, too. And her world had been upside down for a long time. Maybe it still was, Gala couldn't say for sure, but she did know one thing for sure: she had been lucky.

She looked into Finnick's eyes and saw that dangerous glint and the only thing she thought was: I'm lucky.

She had been lucky and she was just grateful to have been lucky.

She could never have survived Finnick's life. She would not have been strong enough.

Gala had always thought of herself as strong, but perhaps a harsh reality check would prove her wrong. She preferred not to be proven wrong, though, and would rather be able to continue to think of herself as strong.

"And what did the Siegfrieds do, then, that made you decide they were bad company for me?"

Decide.... As if Gala had had a real choice. She had merely done what she had to do to maintain Finnick's image. That was what she did for a living. That was her job. Her whole future depended on her doing her job well.
If you worked hard and turned out to be an asset to President Snow, you were promoted and handsomely rewarded, but if you didn't perform well, you could lose a lot more than just your job. President Snow was not to be disappointed. That was common knowledge.

Gala had no choice. No one really did. Perhaps she was a coward for thinking that. But better a live coward than a dead hero.

"A simple tax evasion scandal." she said calmly, unfazed by his words or his tone, even though they did leave a bitter taste in her mouth. "They will be at the party looking for new friends and acquaintances who might be able to support them financially. Accordingly, everyone will avoid them. And you'll do the same, because we don't want you to stand out."

He huffed in response. "We don't want that?"

Gala nodded. "We want you to stand out for the right reasons. You're allowed to stand out because you're particularly well dressed. You're allowed to stand out because you're charming and charismatic and good at conversation. But you may only stand out with certain people and only to a certain extent. Remember that not every kind of attention is a good one. And considering the games start in a few weeks, we don't want to draw negative attention to you. It's bad for ratings, for business, and last but not least for the kids you have to organize sponsors for. You won't be able to do that if you inadvertently get yourself involved in any form of scandal."

"I have been involved in countless scandals. That's my image. That's what makes me the Capitol Darling. The Capitol loves scandals."

"There are different kinds of scandals, too. Not every scandal is good for your image. Not every scandal is sexy and interesting and exciting. You're involved in those kinds of scandals. Scandals that make people curious about you. Scandals that make people whisper about you, make women blush because of your name. You're desired because you're part of the right kind of scandal." She paused.

The Capitol pined for and craved Finnick's sexy scandals, but she knew he didn't share the same euphoria. Not because of the scandals themselves. He didn't seem to mind the gossip - whether that was because he didn't understand the importance of his social standing, or because he simply didn't care about it, Gala didn't know. In any case, she thought he was ignorant in this respect.
But what bothered him was, in fact, the... origin of that gossip. The part of his job that they both kept quiet about because she was not allowed to interfere and which, from a purely formal point of view, she was not allowed to even know about, although one had to be blind to overlook how selectively-purposefully Finnick chose his bed partners.
How could a secret be so obvious but also so well kept at the same time?

If you want to keep a secret, you must also hide it from yourself, that was what her mother used to say.

Hiding in plain sight.

Looking at Finnick now, Gala realised that he himself had played a large part in keeping his nocturnal occupations secret. He did not admit them to himself. And as long as he didn't believe it himself, there was no reason for the rest of society to believe it either.

Hiding in plain sight. It worked.

"But scandals that involve money are never the right kind of scandals," she continued. "People are stingy and losing money is never worth the thrill to them. Everyone stays away from these scandals. And as for Ilyn LeMoine, her husband is well-liked and respected all around. He has powerful friends and even more powerful business partners. Now that the rumor is going around that Mrs. LeMoine has not been faithful to him, it would be unwise to be seen with her. Not only might Mr. LeMoine see it as an act of advocacy and taking sides, no, on top of that you would be frowned upon by all his friends and business associates. Precisely all the powerful people you'll have to convince to become sponsors for your next tributes."

"We're not doing this for the kids. Let's drop the hypocrisy. We're doing it for ratings, for press and for business."

Fed up with the interruptions and accusations, she gave him a sharp look. "Do not speak on my behalf. You know nothing of my motives, Finnick." Gala took the first list from him, then took a step towards him while folding the list and then stowing it in his breast pocket. "But yes, a happy President Snow means a happy Gala. And I'm not ashamed of it. Nor should you be."

"I am, though."

"That's not my problem." she deadpanned, handing him the next list, which he paid no attention to, however, so Gala decided to simply continue with her demands, "The party, as I'm sure you know, is being held in the name of Crispin Freytag. Don't forget to thank him for the invitation. You should also say hello to Hazyl Glover at some point during the evening."

"The heiress to Glover Industries?"

"The CEO of Glover Industries. Her father recently passed away and now she has taken over his position. As far as I know, you haven't had the pleasure of meeting each other. But because of the new state of affairs, you should change that immediately. She is an intelligent and rich woman. I am sure that she will be a sponsor in the upcoming games. So flatter her, or others will do it in your place."

At this point she proceeded to instruct him as quickly as possible on how tonight was to proceed. There was no time to let him question everything. She didn't care about his opinions. And she couldn't care. Because what good would that do her?

"While we're on the subject: Gloss and Cashmere are also on the guest list. The last time you appeared on TV together, the ratings were great. The Capitol Darling alone does good ratings, but three Victors at once is a goldmine. Everyone will want to invest money in you and your tributes if you continue to appear like friends. The Capitol likes you guys as friends. So talk to them at least twice during the evening. Be friendly and courteous. You know the drill.

"Although our goal, among others, is ultimately to find possible sponsors, you should never bring up the games directly in conversation. It's a party, not a business meeting. You must not even mention the Hunger Games in passing, otherwise the people you are talking to may feel pressured. They should think you are a friend without ulterior motives. However, if they bring up the games themselves, then you must show your anticipation and excitement." He nodded, so she continued, "Then you may tell them about how hard you will be training your tributes this year. About how their chances, even though they haven't even been picked yet, are high, simply because you will be their mentor. Infect the guests with your enthusiasm and you'll be sure of a few sponsors even weeks before the games begin."

"Understood. I'll infect them with my enthusiasm and turn on the charm," he replied, while not sounding a bit enthusiastic or charming.

Nonetheless, she affirmed, "Good, I expect no less from you."

But she could tell he had more to say by the way the corners of his mouth twitched.

"But let's be honest with each other, for once. Even if I don't know your exact motives, you're still acting on Snow's behalf and he doesn't care about the tributes, only that I entertain and humour his beloved Capitol, that I keep them happy. So why all this talk about the kids? Why do you of all people insist on helping them?"

She paused, maybe even hesitated, his eyes boring into hers, his gaze so inquiring, as if he were trying to stare directly into her head to read her exact thoughts.

"I don't care about the kids. They're only hypothetical at this point, so how could I?... But everyone needs a motivation that drives them forward. Yours could be those tributes."
This revelation surprised him, although it did not seem to impress him one bit.

"So you think I would do a better job tonight, put on a better performance - a performance, coincidentally beneficial for Snow -, if I went into it with the motivation of wanting to guarantee the success of the next District Four tributes. You think the illusion of such potential motivation would make me forget that this is really about something else entirely. That it's all about secrets, power and control."

"My point is not to make you forget anything, Finnick. You can start your day with whatever motivation you prefer. Or not, if that's what you want. I can only tell you from my own experience that it's easier to do a good job when you have a reason to do a good job. Be it pressure or motivation. In the end, I guess there's always some pressure involved, but if you can convince yourself that it's not solely pressure that's driving you, but that you have a real reason for what you're doing, then you'll at least be able to go to bed with a better conscience, and that's something. Don't you think?"

"So lying to yourself is your answer?"

She pressed her lips into a thin line.

"I have no answer. And I'm not offering you one. I merely made a suggestion to make your evening easier. But if you don't want to accept it, well, that's up to you. Stick to my rules - that's all I expect."

The sternness in her voice made him pause and for the next minute they both just remained silent. He held her gaze, as he always did, and finally he asked, almost gently, "Well, what's your motivation then? If you're speaking from your own experience. I suspect that for you it's not the children. But I also doubt that it's the ratings. So what is it then?"

She shook her head. "It's none of your business."

And he almost smiled. "Just the answer I was counting on, sweetheart."

—✺—

Sooo it's been a long time. I'm sorry it took me so long!! And it's not even the whole chapter...just the first half of the party 😭😭

I put in some quotes.... I'll write down the author's names in the next chapter... don't be too surprised that my english sucks in this chapter.... It's not very well written and I'll potentially have to re-write it at some point. I'm not too happy with it... but I've just started working and I've been very busy lately so it's the best I can do....

I hope y'all enjoyed the chapter nonetheless... feel free to leave comment <3

PS: You remember Bella Hadid's beautiful gold-lung-dress she wore I think last year.... That dress is how I pictured Gala's to look like (therefore the collage I made like months ago)

love, farrah