A/N: Rated T for violence and references to sex.

"What are you doing here?" Some anger burned hot, but Mags' was cold as ice. Annie allowed it to drift over her as she stared down at her salad dish, imagining that she could see the green leaves slowly wilting under the weight of the dressing.

The anger's target had less tact. "Well, I figured that if I was going to win the Hunger Games, the first step was to volunteer."

"At sixteen."

"Yes." He was only going to get himself in even deeper trouble. Annie glanced up to offer her own tribute a small, tight, but hopefully reassuring smile. Alyssa had done exactly as was expected of her. She shouldn't have to sit through this, but right now, Annie had no means of rescue to offer.

Unfortunately for both of them, Mags showed no sign of letting up anytime soon. "When we had older tributes selected and ready to go."

"I won my last sparring matches against Darren and Lochlan. I should be the one going into the Arena, not them." Had he really? Annie peered over at him. He obviously hadn't quite finished filling out yet, but Finnick Odair already stood a couple inches over six foot, and he had broad shoulders and muscular arms to match. Maybe he really had managed to beat the older boys Mags had selected to volunteer that year. "And anyway," he added, "it's all luck. They had just as much of a chance of getting picked as I did. I just happened to be the one that got picked out of the bucket."

"Reaping Bowl," Octavius corrected, his first contribution to the conversation thus far. Annie admired his restraint. A full-blown argument between mentor and mentee before they had even reached the Capitol would surely make for prime gossip. It was only human to want to stoke the fires a bit.

"Reaping Bowl, sure. Whatever."

"But they won't have the opportunity next year, and now our pool of boys to pick of in two years is one peson smaller. I picked Darren and Lochlan for a reason, believe it or not."

The high-speed trains that crisscrossed Panem were marvels of modern engineering. They glided over their tracks in almost perfect silence, assuring the utmost in comfort for their privileged passengers. Right now, the room was quiet enough that Annie could hear the engine's hum from the other compartment. The moment stretched out long enough for her to finish the last few bites of her salad. It was good. The food always was. The Capitol had to make the details beautiful so no one bothered to step back and see how ugly it was as a whole.

Finnick relented first. "I'm sorry. I didn't think about it like that, and it was stupid of me."

"At least we agree on something." Mags turned back to her own plate. "Now, if everybody's done with their salad, I suppose we can stop scaring the Avoxes away for long enough for them to drop off the main course, yes?"

After dinner, they split up so the mentors could consult with their tributes individually. Alyssa waited as Annie locked the door to her compartment behind them. The poor girl, for even though Alyssa was only a few months younger than Annie herself, she could think of her as nothing else, stood in the center of the space, looking around with wide eyes and wringing her hands. "You can sit on the bed or the chair if you'd like."

She sat down on the very edge of the chair, sitting on her hands to stop herself from wringing them. "I'm not going to win, am I?"

Annie bought herself an extra second to answer by moving the throw pillows off the bed so she could sit. "If I knew that, I think I could make a lot of money betting on the Games." Well no, she couldn't, as former Victors were barred from gambling, but that was a technicality.

"But I'm going to lose. Finnick's going to win."

"I don't know that."

"You think it."

She chose her words carefully. "If you had told me right after I'd been reaped that I was going to win, I wouldn't have believed you. I was fourteen and even shorter and skinner than I am now, and Seannan, my district partner, was eighteen and had about a hundred pounds of pure muscle on me. It seemed like all the other tributes did too. I'll give you one guess who won."

Alyssa met her with a level gaze. "You've seen Finnick. Do you really think there's any chance that the gamemakers are going to pick me over him?"

A shiver crawled down her spine. "Don't talk like that. The gamemakers might have the control panels, but they don't decide the Games. That's up to us."

"They sure do seem to have a lot of pretty Victors –"

"I told you not to talk like that," Annie snapped. The trains were some oef the most closely monitored places in Panem. Alyssa would do well to keep quiet about any suspsicions she had about the fairness of the Games, particularly if those suspicions were correct. "You've trained for ten years to win this thing. Don't give up before you've even stepped foot in the Arena."

Alyssa didn't say anything, but she didn't back down either. There was the fighting spirit she would need going forward. Annie sighed. "So, you've got me here. Any questions you want to ask? Got any ideas of a strategy yet?"

The girl shook her head. "Not beyond the basics."

"Well, the basics seem like as good a place to start as any. Mags told me you were good with knives. Let's hear about it."

"Hey."

Annie jumped at the sound of his voice, and her hands immediately went down to the tie on her bathrobe, making sure it was cinched tight.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you. You couldn't fall asleep either, huh?"

"Just woke up and thought I'd grab some water." No, she hadn't. Her voice would be rougher if she had just woken up, and her hair would be messed up from laying in bed, not still in the perfect curls she had worn at the Reaping. Finnick wasn't going to call her on it, though. He instead admired her legs as she got up on her tiptoes to grab a cup from the top shelf. By the time she turned around, he was innocently staring out the window.

"The views are really nice," he said.

"Definitely. It's neat to be able to see so much of Panem." She sat down on the couch across from him and tucked her bathrobe underneath her. "Though I'm not sure how much you can see, considering that it's pitch black out there."

"There's enough moonlight to make out the basics."

"I guess." Annie took a drink from her glass. "Maybe I've just been spoiled by seeing it during the day."

He leaned back into the wonderfully soft cushions. "I think it'd be easy to get spoiled by all this. It's all so amazing."

"This is very bare bones compared to the Capitol. Everything there is just…" she shook her head, and the moonlight danced over her hair. "It's insane is what it is. I mean, it's beautiful, gorgeous really, but it's all so over the top that I still don't even know where to start, you know?"

Finnick shook his head. "I guess I'll find out tomorrow."

She laughed. "I guess you will."

Her smile was so inviting that he couldn't help but be drawn in. Her empty glass sat off to one side, but he didn't want her to go back to her compartment just yet. "So, um." She watched him expectantly. How had he never really noticed her before? He'd known who she was for years, of course. Everybody knew the Victors. But even though he saw her multiple times a year for the reapings, and the Victory Tour, and the interviews that all the Victors did, Finnick had never realized how pretty Annie Cresta was. "Are you looking forward to going back?"

It was as though a metal curtain slid into place at those words. Her eyes went from warm and friendly to cold and distant in an instant. "Kind of. It's a nice change of pace, and I've got a few friends among the other Victors that I'm happy to see, but I always end up missing Four while I'm there."

"Oh." Something told him that apologizing for asking that question wouldn't be the best idea. "I've never been away from my family for more than a night before." He hated those words the minute they left his mouth. Finnick wasn't a child, and he certainly didn't want her to see him as such.

"I hadn't either before my Games. I don't think most tributes have." She let those words marinate for a moment. "Are you doing okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"I'm glad to hear it." She moved to sit next to him and looked out the window. "I think that's District Three out there. Do you see the tower?"

He tore his gaze away from her and studied the dark landscape before him. Far away, sitting on the very edge of the horizon, he could make out a needle-like tower. "Yeah, I see it. What's it for?"

"No idea, but I remember seeing one a lot like it when I was in Three for my Victory Tour."

"Huh." Her hand was only an inch away from his. He scooted a little closer, brushed his hand against hers, watched her face for any hint of a negative reaction. When she made no move to pull away, he covered her hand with his own. "How about you? Are you all right?"

Annie thought about that one for a minute before she shrugged. "I'm a little lonely, but I'll be all right." She gave him another one of those stunning smiles. "Don't you worry about me."

"I'll stay with you. You don't have to be alone." His voice came out huskier than he intended it, and her green eyes widened.

She laughed uncomfortably, but still, she didn't pull away. "Thanks for the offer, but I don't think that would be appropriate. Relationships between mentors and tributes need to stay professional. They've actually got rules against sleeping with your tributes."

"You're not my mentor." That hadn't been what Finnick was hinting at, but now that the idea was out in the open, he had to admit it sounded pretty good. After all, what kind of sixteen-year-old wouldn't want to sleep with a beautiful older girl? And since Annie had brought it up, she must have been thinking about it, so…

"But I am a mentor. It's a bad idea."

"I wouldn't tell anyone."

Annie shook her head. "It's not that simple, all right? And even if it were, you're sixteen. No matter how mature you think you are, that's still a minor."

"You know, it's kind of interesting."

"What is?" she asked.

"In all of this, you not wanting to sleep with me hasn't come up once. Why don't you just do whatever you want? You're a Victor. What can they really do to you?"

"You know what, you're completely right. That's definitely the best solution to this little problem." Wait, really? He hadn't expected her to be convinced that easily, but then again, she hadn't needed too much convincing. She kissed him on the top of the head and pulled her hand out from underneath his. "Goodnight, Finnick. If you need anything, press any of the glowing orange buttons, and an attendant will be right with you."

He watched the sway of her hips as she disappeared down the into the next compartment.

A/N: Ideally, I'll be posting one chapter a day for seven days for the shipping week challenge on Caesar's Palace, which I would definitely recommend checking out. The catch is that none of this is pre-written, as for the challenge, you have to write the chapter on the day you post. We'll see how that works out. It might end up being more of a shipping fortnight.