A/N: Random little OC drabble I found on my laptop. Hope you like it!
Disclaimer: Nothing that belongs with the Hunger Games franchise belongs to me.


A father's love was something I could never attain. Perhaps it was because of how I acted or who I was. But I think the real reason was because he was ashamed of my existence. I was the product of alcohol and young foolish love. My mother was fourteen. My father, fifteen. I was unwanted and unwelcomed. My mother died from labor complications and my father, well, he took me in, even though he disliked me.

My father, a lonesome man, had no need of me and for the first ten years of my life he had ostracized me and had never spoken a word in my direction. The face I hated was the one of pity he gave me the first time he met me on my tenth birthday. And that look was my only gift.

And then I was replaced by the 'girl on fire'. And what a beauty she was. Katniss Everdeen, the Hunger Games tribute from District 12. The clothes my father made her were spectacular. Why was she chosen over me?

My father was Cinna, a thirty-two year old Capitol resident. He had tanned skin and darker hair and eyes. Gold outlined those dark eyes. He was quite unlike the rest of the Capitol, who wore outrageous colors. I was like him too. I wore no strange colors and I looked a lot like him. The same long dark hair adorned my scalp and my skin was only a little lighter than his. But my eyes, they were my mother's. My misty gray irises probably haunted my father. That may be why he hates me. I remind him too much of his young lover, Rosa.

Had she lived, though, I may have been a tribute for District 11. I may have been in Katniss' place and be subject to the dresses and outfits designed by my father. I may have been dead, if not for my father.

Now as I watched from the stage where Caesar was giving his interviews, I could spot my father, watching me from the audience. It was my interview that was happening, mine that I wasn't paying attention to.

"Basil, I understand that your mother comes from District 11."

"I'm a registered citizen of the Capitol. I'm not qualified to participate in the Games, if that's what you're asking." How many times had that been asked? Was it because of my mother or was it because of my father who was not quite like the other Capitol citizens?

I had silenced him, if only for a moment. I knew what he was building up to. "How's your father? His new scene as Katniss' designer seems to be working out well. He seems to be enjoying it."

"Oh, yes," I say with a fake smile, "He was hoping to get her. He absolutely adores her, he does." Could they sense my hatred for them both?

"And you, do you enjoy living in the Tribute Tower?"

"I do. For reasons my own though." I could hear the audience sigh in exasperation. He had told me to be a tease. That it would work better for us.

"Will you not share?"

Evade the question. Give little details. Do not mention him. My mind reeled with commands. "I have taken a Tribute as my lover." Desperate, old girl, just desperate. "It runs in the family: taking those who are to die."

"Can you let us in on who it is?" Time, the time, Caesar. It will run out. No more interviews for me, not for a while.

"President Snow, my boss, advised me not to tell, but…. I think I can go against that little request just for you guys, since you are so nice and definitely the finest audience I could ever ask for." My eyes were trained on my father. He did not know all this. And he certainly didn't wish to know the name that rolled off my tongue for he closed his eyes in anguish as I spoke, "Cato."