He sniffs his hot tea before taking a tentative sip. Whirling a stirrer around and setting the teacup down to cool, he looks up and sets his snakelike eyes on one of his advisors, a balding man with surgically stretched skin.
"So why are you here, Tyran?" Snow asks, eager to be getting to the point.
Tyran gulps nervously, but struggles to show neutrality. His relationship with President Snow is always like this. One wrong word could potentially mean his body without a head. Why was he always chosen to be the bearer of bad news? Surely some other advisor could deliver this deathblow, but no. It just has to be him. "President Snow, Sir, we've received reports from the Peacekeeping Centers in District 8. And they're not good reports," Tyran ventures cautiously.
President Snow very subtly frowns, shaking his head slowly. "Such a shame. I wouldn't want to obliterate Eight. The Capitol citizens will be quite disgruntled to find that we've no more fabric resources," he says, tutting. Then he sighs. "So tell me, Tyran, what about these reports?"
"Well, Sir, the citizens of District 8 have been starting to protest," Tyran explains, and then decides to dump the whole enchilada on Snow. "But that's not all, Sir. Districts Three, Four, Six, Seven, and Eleven have also started showing signs of rebellion."
"Oh," Snow says suprisedly. "That's all?"
This confuses Tyran. He's just told President Snow that all but five of his twelve districts have started to rebel, and all he can say is, "Oh, that's all?" Remarkable. No one could ever understand Snow even if their lives depended on it.
"Excuse me, Sir?" Tyran sputters.
Snow smiles and shakes his head. "No, no, Tyran. It's nothing. I just thought perhaps District 12 would partake of this as well, but apparently not." Snow seems to be somewhat amused as he says, "Just when I thought they had started getting better at this game, they decline miserably." Tyran still does not understand a word Snow is saying, so he remains quiet as Snow continues, "And you know, the amusing part is that they can actually win. They can tear this entire system down if they stand up, but they're too much of ridiculous cowards to even try it."
Tyran is fazed. What can he say to that? "Yes, Sir, I agree with you. They can take us down in no time." Ridiculous. If anything, that in itself will get his head cut off for sure. So he only clears his throat, arranges his papers and hands them to Snow. "These are the statistical reports, Sir. I was told to deliver them to you," Tyran says. "What are your orders for Peacekeeping action, Sir?"
Snow purses his puffed up lips as he examines the reports. Considerably high possibilities of an uprising in Four. Eight already on full-throttle rebellion mode. All the other districts following closely behind. District 12 ranks the tenth as possible districts to uprise.
"I've no orders for Peacekeeping action, Tyran," Snow says, waving his hand nonchalantly.
"But, Sir," Tyran chokes out. "If we leave this be, we could very well end up with a very disgruntled Capitol in our hands."
"Who says we're leaving it be?" Snow says. Tyran only looks at him stupidly. "Arrange for a hovercraft to District 12, Tyran," Snow suddenly orders him.
Tyran nods, pulling out a little mechanical device from his pocket and typing crazily on it. "Certainly, Sir," he says. "But if I may ask, for who will it be, Sir?"
Snow smiles, taking a sip from his tea. "Me."