Warning: implications of sexual themes, only a few. If rating needs to be bumped up, just tell me politely and I'll do so.
"You've won," President Snow says to her. His tone of voice his flat, robotic, almost as if he doesn't care. Johanna supposes he doesn't.
She wonders why she's here, in his nice and expensive office. She doesn't belong here; she's just another winner in his eyes, a girl who has lived through his own personal makings of hell. She's dirtying his surroundings. It makes her want to laugh.
"Yeah," she says hollowly, slowly and carefully. She has to be careful, because this is the president; he could make her life absolutely miserable without batting an eye. As more miserable as it could get, anyways. "What about it?"
Snow's back is to her. His reflection in the windowpane is opaque, and Johanna feels as though she is a mouse in a cage with a snake. "You're a pretty thing, Miss Mason. The Capitol adores you."
Because she played with their minds and deceived them, tricked them in a way where no one else had. Johanna holds her tongue, swallows her pride, and keeps on listening, although there's a knot in her stomach that tells her something bad is going to happen.
"I have a preposition for you," Snow says; his feet echo against the white marble, so loud in the silence, and he doesn't stop until he's directly in front of Johanna. His lips twitch in a smile, but his eyes are dreadfully cold. "Since the people of Panem love you, surely some would like to…spend a night with you?"
Johanna snaps.
She laughs first, a cracking sound in a nice room. "You're telling me," she says, almost in disbelief, "you want me to sleep with the Capitol."
He doesn't nod, but Johanna knows she's right. She slaps her hands at her sides and laughs, the giggles bubbling over her mouth.
"No way," she retorts, sharp and steel. "No way in hell will I let myself be another pawn in one of your precious games."
"You could be more famous than you already are now." Snow still sounds eerily calm, but there are flashes of disappointments here and there. Johanna continues laughing, but it sounds even more sarcastic and dry.
"I don't want to be famous for being a Capitol slut," she says, crossing her arms over her shoulders. The laughs cease, finally, and she can finally see the disappointment writhing in Snow's eyes. "I'm not a piece of your games anymore, Snow. And I don't plan to be ever again."
He sighs, merely sounding like a father disappointed in a child. "My dear," he says softly, "there is a part of the Hunger Games inside of you, and I do control that part. And there will be consequences, for your harsh words."
"Shoot me," Johanna says defiantly, and white-hot anger flashes in Snow's eyes.
"I will, Miss Mason. Now run along home. I'm sure your family is missing you."
And for the first time since the Games, fear courses through Johanna's veins.
Johanna wakes up a week after this conference and finds her family dead.
She doesn't know how it happens, and Snow doesn't care to enlighten her about the details, but she finds her mother's body, slumped against a wall, and that's when she knows.
I'm sure your family is missing you, Snow said. It was probably a hidden message in itself, Johanna realizes, and she curls her hands into fists.
It's another threat, in itself; I can still control you. Johanna can see Snow's eyes now, his face tilted at her, shaking his head in disappointment. She drops her hand to her lap, and looks up at the roof.
"I hope someone kills you, Snow," she says sullenly. She should probably have kept those words to herself, but she's got nothing left to lose now, and she's always been blunt.
It's not like he could hear her, anyways.