AN: Jess is wrong and refuses to change it, so just bear with her, I guess. –Ryan

She is referring to my use of the word 'capitolist' instead of 'capitolite'. Screw her. I like mine better.

I love you too, Jess. –Ryan

Get off my author's note. This is my time to shine, dang it!

Anyway, enjoy my crappy Hunger Games challenge!

She walked out of her dressing room scowling at the antics of her yappy stylists. They had released her to Cinna's care only after one last rant about her excessive body hair before she was thrown to the wolves; better yet, thrown to a grown man with blue hair and matching eyebrows; thrown to the Capitolists who would cheer as she lay dying. She would rather be thrown to actual wolves.

"You look beautiful," Cinna smiled encouragingly.

Her thick makeup and less-than-ladylike scowl hid her blush well. It was silly to let something so small get to her like it did. She was the Volunteer. After tonight everybody would know her name. Still, there was no denying the flutter in her stomach or the blood that rushed her face.

Beautiful

She couldn't remember ever being called beautiful before. Surely her father had. Her mom, maybe, before the Incident. Nothing that she could remember, though. Yet here he was a near-stranger tossing a compliment into the wind like it was nothing. But it was everything to her.

She was perfect to him. Beaten down by life, squeezed dry, pounded with pressure like a lump of coal. Now she was his diamond.

He hated his life working for the prissy Capitol lap dogs, designing dresses so far over the top that he needed a hovercraft just to claim the damn things. But here she was saving him from becoming one of them.

Because it might have happened: he might have let society steamroll over him, stealing his identity and leaving him with anything and everything in return.

Now he never could because she never would.

And if things were different he would steal her away from her string of suitors waiting for her. They weren't right for her, anyway. They could never care for her like she deserved to be cared for. Like he could. If he was younger or she was older… If he was not one of the Capitolists that he knew she despised. If the odds had ever been in their favor, maybe she could have been his.

But as it was he was a professional. He would let her go like any true professional would. He would not add stress to her never-ending load of it. He would not isolate her like he knew any kind of confession and resulting rejection would force on her.

He would support her in whatever way she needed him to. He would be her best friend, her closest confidant.

And when they came for him, he would be her warning.

Bam. Review! (Especially if you have any challenges for us!)

Love, Jess