This is just an idea I've had for a really long time that clawed its way out of my head today. Enjoy.

Disclaimer: I own nothing

All from Maxon's POV

I interviewed seven more ladies after America returned to her seat. All I could think was that she should've gone last; with the memory of her fresh in my mind, the other girls seemed impersonable and fake. The only other girl to make any sort of impression on me was Elise, simply because I recognized that she was New Asian and guessed it was the reason Father had chosen her.

When at last the last girl was seated, I stood and walked to the center of the room. I took a deep breath to try and calm my nerves. "If I have asked you to remain behind, please stay in your seats. If not, please proceed with Silvia here into the dining hall. I will join you shortly."

I watched as most of the ladies stood and began walking toward the dining hall, where Mother and Father were already waiting. I wondered what Father would think when he noticed the eight empty chairs.

Hmm. Perhaps I should've waited and at least let the ladies have breakfast before I sent them home.

Well, there was no turning back now. The ladies waited expectantly, some nervous, some smug. I noted with displeasure that the cameras were still hanging around. Not only was I about to ruin eight girls' chances of being my wife, it was going to be televised.

I smiled at them. "Ladies, thank you so much for your patience." They nodded their collective heads at me.

I ran through a couple of different ways to say it in my head, but all of them were quite insensitive. I realized I probably should've prepared something to say in this circumstance beforehand. I'd avoided thinking about the Selection for so long that now I was in the midst of it, completely at a loss for words. This only proved that no good came from procrastination.

Just say it Maxon, I commanded myself. You can't keep them waiting any more.

I took a deep breath. "Ladies, I want to thank all of you for coming and affording me the opportunity to meet you all today. It has been a true pleasure."

They all smiled at that. I soldiered on. "However, I feel that it is in everyone's best interest if I begin whittling the Selection pool down to its truest candidates immediately. So in that spirit, I asked you ladies to stay behind with me because I don't feel that we have any chance of becoming husband and wife."

All of them, every single one of them, froze. A few mouths fell open. Lyssa, in particular, teared up immediately. I tried not to look at her; I was feeling wretched enough as it was.

"I do apologize," I continued. "I just feel that it woud be a waste of time, both yours and mine, for us to continue a relationship that had no chance of proceeding anywhere."

Nobody moved. I floundered about for a bit in my head for something more to say. "Please, feel free to keep the dresses and jewelry that were provided for you this morning, as a token of my appreciation for your coming today."

They still hadn't moved. I looked over at Sylvia, who had entered the room a moment ago. She scampered over to me.

"You can join the other ladies in the dining hall with your parents," she whispered to me. "I'll handle this."

I nodded and, with a final bow at the eight frozen ladies, all but sprinted from the room. I sincerely hoped I would never have to eliminate a group of ladies in such an impersonal manner again.

I walked into the dining hall and proceeded to make my way to my seat. A few of the girls made to get up, so I quickly called out. "Please don't rise, ladies. Enjoy your breakfasts."

I kissed Mother on her cheek when I approached her. She gave me a warm smile. Father looked expectant, so I gave him a firm pat on the back. I sat down and Justin, the kitchen butler who was always responsible for bringing me my food, appeared at my right and set my plate down.

"Always impeccable timing," I told him easily. "I was so ravenous the napkin was about to become my breakfast."

He laughed quietly. I always joked with Justin when he brought me my food; I'd known him as long as anyone, and we'd worked up a strange comraderieship. We weren't strangers, but we weren't exactly friends.

Speaking of friends, where was America? I wondered. I found her just as the door opened and the camera crew walked into the dining hall. Not wanting to give us away, I took my eyes off her and focused on my food.

The cameras did a quick lap and got another shot of me before leaving. When they were gone, Father leaned over and said, "well done, Maxon. Eight eliminations within the first hour. Keep this up and we'll have picked one by the end of the month."

I wasn't sure what part of that statement bothered me more, the 'we', or the 'one,'; in Father's mind, we may as well have been choosing furniture together.

I took a bite of my food and looked around the table, watching the ladies eat. It was nice to watch their faces as they took their first bites of such decadence, but America's face was by far the funniest. When she bit into a strawberry tart, her eyes rolled up a bit and I heard her moan a little. She really was staying for the food.

I wasn't sure what it was; maybe the combination of a weight being lifted from my shoulders, or of the confirmation that I could handle the Selection after all. Whatever it was, I suddenly found myself wanting to tease her about it.

I waited until she had a mouthful of food and called, "Lady America?"

Every head in the room turned in my direction, but I was focused on her expression. It was priceless; her eyes popped open like a deer in headlights, and she threw her hand over her mouth as she tried to swallow.

When she could speak, she said, "Yes, Your Majesty?"

"How are you enjoying the food?" I was on the verge of laughter, but I was trying my best to hold it in. She looked mortified that I was calling her out. I calmly ate another forkfull of food.

America swallowed again and tried to compose her face into a mask of calm. "It's excellent, Your Majesty. This strawberry tart...well, I have a sister who loves sweets more than I do. I think she'd cry if she tasted this. It's perfect."

I swallowed and sat back, thinking about that. What an odd think to cry over. "Do you really think she would cry?"

She tilted her head to the side in thought. "Yes, actually, I do. She doesn't have much of a filter when it comes to her emotions."

"Would you wager money on it?" came out of my mouth before I could stop it. I'd never spoken so freely with anyone so quickly, not even Daphne.

"If I had any to bet, I would." She smiled as she said this.

I wondered what she meant by that, but another thought wormed its way out of my mouth. "What would you be willing to barter instead? You seem to be very good at striking deals."

I knew this was confusing to everyone else, but I couldn't bring myself to care. I was enjoying this game with America and, from the look in her eye, I could tell she was willing to keep playing.

"Well, what do you want?" she asked.

"What do you want?" I challenged. The things I wanted- true love, a different system for finding a wife- were far too heavy and abstract for morning breakfast conversation. I was, however, very interested to hear her response. So far, she'd said and done the opposite of all my expectations. I thought of what she could ask for while I waited on her answer. Jewelry, clothes, maybe some artwork-

"If she cries, I want to wear pants for a week," she stated.

I gave a short bark of laughter with everyone else. Pants?! Oh my, America was quickly becoming my favorite. I realized now what I wanted from her that I could ask for.

"Done," I said. "And if she doesn't, you owe me a walk around the grounds tomorrow afternoon." I had to start trying to date sometime, and America seemed like the perfect girl to begin with. She'd be honest with me about anything that I messed up, and in return I could ask her for any advice I needed.

"You drive a hard bargain sir, but I accept," she said, taking another bite of her breakfast.

I couldn't wait until after breakfast to get started on this, so I decided to start now. "Justin?"

He stepped up to me, an amused expression on his face. I told him, "Go make a parcel of strawberry tarts and send it to the lady's family. Have someone wait while her sister tastes it, and let us know if she does, in fact, cry. I'm most curious about this."

He nodded and left. I turned back to the table. "You should write a note to send with it and tell your family you're safe."

She gave a sidelong glance to one of the girls sitting near her, and I suddenly remembered we were surrounded by thirty other people. "In fact, you all should," I quickly covered. "After breakfast, write a letter to your families, and we'll make sure they recieve them today."

All the girls smiled and sighed. Breakfast resumed and was over quickly after that, and on my way out of the dining hall, I found myself praying her sister would hold her tears.