The door slams.
"Late night tonight," she hears Cato say as she drops her keys into the little box on the sideboard cabinet.
"For you, or for me?"
"For both of us. Don't tell me you forgot about the dinner tonight."
"I didn't forget, Cato. I just didn't want to remember."
"You say that about a lot of things," Cato grumbles, coming into Clove's view slowly. He's pulling on a white dress shirt and has a black tie draped around his neck. "We're leaving in five."
"I'm not going."
"Are you fucking kidding me?" He towers over her, but his face softens. "I know it sucks. Just get through it and-"
"Just get through it? Can you say that about the next five hundred dinners, Cato? What happens when I can't get through it anymore?"
"Clove. Get dressed," he says dangerously, walking past her quickly into the bedroom. "We're leaving in five."
"Fuck you," she calls back to him, shrugging her coat off.
"It's going to be worse on the tour, get used to it."
"I'm not going on the Victory Tour either."
Cato emerges out from the bedroom, half-naked. "God, what is up with you today? Who switched places with you?"
"The Clove who realized that she doesn't want you to be a Capitol sex slave for the rest of your life. We're fucking Careers, Cato, you and I shouldn't have to be subjected to this!"
"Look, Clove." Cato steps out of the bedroom. He touches her skin delicately, as if she could shatter at any second. He narrows his eyes at her. "I made Snow a deal. I had to sell my fucking body because there is someone I care about. This is the price of victory."
"And what you were the only Victor?"
"Then the deal wouldn't have been struck," he says simply.
They hold the look for a moment, then Cato turns on his heel and goes back into the bedroom and comes back out with a short black dress. "Enobaria left this for you."
"Thanks," Clove replies.
"We're leaving in five," Cato says.
a/n: this is short, but I hope it's powerful. that's what I was really aiming for here...and reviews would be highly, highly appreciated.