The toes of her shimmering shoes tapped without rhythm. Her hands folded and unfolded themselves in her lap as her back rested stiff against the padded chair. She refrained as well as she could from smacking the glimmering gloss off her lips as the clock ticked.
Gloss.
Her perfect posture faltered and the tapping halted as her pink lips stretched into a smile across her face. It was only a matter of time now until she got to go home. Back to the familiar asphalt streets of District One where: the candy sweet air filled her nose; she rolled evenly cut jewels of her mother's beads between her fingers and she indulged in the company that came along with delicious home cooked dinners. She missed it all during her weeks in the Capitol and Arena, but definitely missed ihim/i the most.
Unfolding her hands once more from her lap, one of her gold nails traced the lines in her dainty palm. Just like he would, to put her at ease.
"Two more bites," Pashmina smiled as she pulled the silver spoon from between her youngest daughter's lips.
"Isn't she getting a little old to be spoon fed by now?" Cashmere asked, twirling the strings of her pasta around her fork.
Pashmina turned to her eldest daughter, then back towards her youngest, whose mouth was opening, anticipating another bite. "She's only two years old. Even you weren't self-sufficient then," she pointed out to Cashmere as Twinkle happily chewed on her last scoopful of dinner. "Good girl, hunny! Do you want your juice now?" The toddler giggled and nodded her head.
Cashmere cringed and pushed her half full plate closer into the table.
"Finish your dinner," Gersemi called from behind her as he walked into the dining room with Twinkle's bottle in his hands. "The next few weeks of your life will be crucial and you'll need as much sustenance as you can get to win."
Cashmere's eyes snapped up towards her step-father's eyes in shock, only to have to pull her gaze away quickly as he, too, cooed at his daughter.
"I'm aware of what I need, Father, I just don't have an appetite anymore. That's all." Cashmere continued to push her plate further way. "Though, if it makes you feel better, I'd eat more if we had a real dinner again without all this fussing over the brat."
"Cashmere Reitz! How dare you be so rude to us like that! Twinkle is a part of the family now and we'd like for you to respect her, even if she is only a toddler." Gersemi bellowed, his voice echoing off the walls. He never used his work voice at home; even Twinkle stopped babbling in recognition.
The usual soft silver of his eyes turned hard, as they filled with something Cashmere had never seen him emit. She was not even sure what to call it. Whatever it was, she was not going to give him the satisfaction of intimidating her. She was at the top of her class at the Academy and was the female candidate for the coming Games. Someone prepared to kill 23 other children was not going to let her old man scare her. She did not need to respect that brat, even if they shared blood. Twinkle would have to earn it like everyone else did.
Cashmere was about to open her mouth to retort when Gloss' firm hand slid into hers. Her eyes darted to his, green hissing with malcontent but those silver ones of his were calm. They instantly grounded her to her spot; his fingers splayed and trickled along the lines in her opened palm.
"She isn't so bad, Cas. She's pretty cute when she's asleep, there's no crying, no babbling, no mess. You should help mother put her to bed tonight, I'm sure you'll change your mind after that." Gloss flashed her one of those gentle smiles of his.
He always knew just what to say. Cashmere looked up at the clock; only a few more hours.
The creak of the heavy doors opening brought her attention away from the electronic on the wall to the office's newest inhabitant. Cashmere adjusted her posture; her hands fell flat over her covered thighs and her toes curled against the material of her open-toe shoes. Whiffs of roses puffed through the air around her and grew exponentially as its originator came closer towards her.
"So nice of you to join me, Ms Graff," President Coriolanus Snow greeted with a gentle cough, "I hope the banquet last night was to your liking."
"It was beautiful, Mr. President, thank you." Her mouth stretched into a smile, forcefully. She did not take well to those using her old family name as opposed to her new one. Not that she did not love her natural father; Cashmere much preferred the present one.
Snow took his seat in his large, leather chair directly across from the latest Victor. His plump lips pulled into a smile of equal diameter, only to have a small trail of blood flow from the corner of his mouth.
"Sir, are you alright?"
"Fine, child," he took his handkerchief and dabbed the blood away, "Thank you for your concern. Though, I must say that I much prefer your ruthless, cool side in comparison." He leered directly at her, "I think the rest of Panem would agree as well."
Cashmere smacked her lips ever so gently as they turned up in a much more genuine grin, "I do what I have to, to survive."
"Is that so, Ms Graff," The president's eyes fixated themselves onto her face, "Then I'm sure our conversations will go fairly smoothly from here on out." He lifted himself from his desk and leaned closer towards her. A hand of his coming up close along the side of her face, as his boney fingers rubbed a piece of her hair between them.
Inch by inch those fingers crawled into her artificially enhanced curls. Coiling around her scalp, they prodded gently at the sensitive skin beneath it. Cashmere twisted the fabric of her dress in her hands as tightly as she could, refusing to twitch, scream or push the President away.
"I see Remake did an excellent job restoring the hair that boy from District Two cruelly pulled from your head," Snow whispered into her ear.
Within moments, she was no longer in the office. What was the smell of roses became that of dried blood mixed with humidity, sweat and marsh water. The green-brown water flittered onto her tongue with each gulp of breath she attempted to take as Syn tugged her up only to plunge her beneath the surface again.
This time, Cashmere did scream as both hands roughly pushed the President back into his chair, her fingernails swiping across his face in defense. The Peacekeepers were on her in milliseconds as they had her pinned to the floor, prepared to use sedatives.
"That'll be unnecessary," Snow instructed the guards, "Release Ms Graff please."
"Reitz!" She yelled in her fit of anxiety, "My name is Cashmere Reitz!"
"Of course it is, child. How terribly sorry I am to have temporarily stripped you of your connection to your beloved Gloss. Though, I doubt that a little piece of paper would keep you away from him."
Cashmere glowered at the President as the Peacekeepers let go of their hold on her, "Leave my brother out of this!"
"Oh? Is that what you call him? I'm sure I can come up with a handful of terms that list you as anything but, coined especially by those 'friends' of yours at the Academy."
Cashmere's gaze flickered with fear, "They wouldn't do something like that. They understand!"
Snow's husky laughter filled the room, "In all my years as President, not a single child I encountered has ever understood."
Her spine began to tremor as grotesque warmth filled her core and fanned into her fingers and toes. Cashmere's trembling hands ran along the side of her body, pitching and pulling at the fabric of her dress. It was as though her clothes had been torn off her and she stood in the clinically white office in no more than her undergarments. She felt no more vulnerable than an exposed nerve.
The warmth turned cold and her teeth began to chatter. She had been victorious in the 61st Games over 23 other tributes, one of which brutally attacked and desecrated her body. She has earned unrivaled levels of honour for herself, her district, her family and yet it is not enough for President Snow to believe she is but a child. No child could have walked out of that swampy-wasteland alive.
"Please, I'd like to go home now, sir," Cashmere crushed the silk of her dress in her palm, eyes still staring straight into Snow.
"Not yet, my dear. There is a dinner I would like you to attend with me. It will be tomorrow evening, right here in the mansion. Then, I will be sure you are on your way back to District One."
"You guarantee this will be your final request of me?" Cashmere asked, warily.
"You have my word that I, personally, will ask no more of you this year."
Four months of immunity from whatever he had planned was long enough for her to gather herself and face her next challenge with a clear mind.
"What time should I be there?"
Snow's smile finally fell along with his eye contact as he began to shuffle through papers on his desk, "I'll inform Miss Archer of the details." He looked up from the paper he was scribbling on for only a moment, "Sleep well, my dear and congratulations on your victory."
She all but ran out of the office, nearly losing her shoes, once the Peacekeepers opened the heavy doors for her.
When Cashmere got back to the Training Centre, she did not so much as greet her mentor, Tiffany Lewis, or her escort, Luciana Archer, before climbing into the shower. She scrubbed every inch of her body that lay in filth from Capitol hands. The soapy water concealed her tears as the sound from the pipes masked her soft cries for her brother. To her surprise, when she stepped out of the steamy shower stall, nothing covering her thin figure, she felt infinitely less exposed then she did an hour ago.
Only 24 more hours, then she'll be home.
"Spin for me, Cash," Nero asked in his deep tone as his index finger twirled in demonstration. Cashmere whirled on the spot. Her strapless, sweetheart-cut, emerald dress flowed around her slender body as it parachuted at her ankles. The strands of blond tresses that were not wrapped in a bun smoothly followed the circular motion. "Perfect," he smiled as he placed a gentle kiss on her powdered cheeks with his orange lips.
A natural blush enhanced the makeup as her eyes sparkled. All before giving her stylist a hug in return, "Thank you, for everything."
"It has been my pleasure. I look forward to the Victory Tour; I've already started making preparations."
She attempted to not let her smile slip; it was still a few months away. She nodded and kissed his cheek before placing her hand on the door handle. One well manicured foot in front of the other, took Cashmere out into the hallway where Tiffany and Luciana waited patiently for her arrival. Luciana's powder caked face lit up while she touched the exposed, white skin above the dress line.
"You're gorgeous, darling! Nero, you've out done yourself!" Luciana cooed while Nero flashed her a smile.
"Is there a shawl to match?" Tiffany asked, her eyes still half their normal size as they looked at Cashmere from a distance.
Nero's densely cream dusted face fell, shaking his head, "The dress code for the evening states otherwise." Cashmere barely caught the small scoff Tiffany emitted as she rolled her crystal blue eyes.
"At least the dress touches the floor, I guess," Tiffany grumbled as she turned on her heel, walking towards the main living space of the apartment.
"Everything will be okay," Luciana unnecessarily consoled Cashmere, who looked more confused by her mentor's reaction than concerned, "Just remember to smile," she continued as delicate, gold nails pushed the corners of Cashmere's mouth from a frown to a grin. "Never stop smiling."
The victor nodded, leaving Luciana with a sparking smile of her own as the escort pushed her out of the apartment door.
"Three more hours," Cashmere mumbled to herself as she watched the city lights of the Capitol through the tinted limousine window as it took her towards her destination, "and then I'll be back on the train."
The moment her emerald toes stepped onto the marble tile of Snow's mansion, all eyes of every colour turned toward her. Cashmere daintily took her steps across the room, passing by many slack jawed Capitol men and envious Capitol women. She smiled with every whitened tooth she had while the gloss on her lips made them sparkling infinitely more.
"So glad you could join us this evening, my dear," Snow greeted her at the bottom of the main spiral staircase. Taking her hand in his, he kissed it gently before looping it through his arm. "Nero has done a wonderful job with you this evening," he whispered into her ear as he guided her up the steps, "You look marvelous!"
Cashmere felt her skin crawl. She wanted to pull her hand away, put a good meter between them as they walked side by side. But she knew she wouldn't get away with being forceful with Snow in public. He was only so forgiving.
"Thank you, sir," her pearly whites remained visible.
Snow smiled as he came to a full stop on the second floor landing. Huddling near a small part of space near the banister, a group of Capitol men chuckled amongst themselves in their golden suits and their forest green bowties.
"There are a few people I would like you to meet, Ms. Reitz," Snow began, catching the attention of the men. Their puffed up lips stretched into delighted smiles. "Mr. Felix Faber, Mr. Junius Gallus and Mr. Ovidus Valerii."
It was of no surprise to her that she did not recognize them, with the way in which Capitol people followed frequent trends. Though, she did feel herself relax as the men, who were well acquainted with her father, shook her hand graciously.
"It's a pleasure to meet you," she curtseyed with a smile.
"You've grown up to be quite the young woman. It's so hard to believe that you're the same girl in those family photos Gersemi used to send out at New Years," Felix spoke as he placed his empty wine glass on the silver platter an Avox held out to him.
"If I did not see it with my own eyes, I could never imagine our menacing Victor with big bows in her hair," Ovidus laughed, followed by Felix as both men securely gripped onto her slender forearms.
Cashmere smiled and laughed lightly, tugging softly in hopes that their hands would loosen. They took the hint just as a new Avox came around with another round of wine glasses. Thanking the servant, Cashmere took her glass.
Glancing around their quaint circle briefly, she noticed the President was no longer amongst them. Turning her head both left, right, backwards and forwards, he was nowhere in sight.
"Whatever happened to those photos anyways?" Junius asked, running his fingers along the side of her neck and up along the side of her jaw as he came up behind her, "He wouldn't be locking you up now would he? Keeping his lovely daughter all to himself?"
Her back stiffened as she could feel the air from Junius' mouth on the base of her neck. Neither Felix nor Ovidius looked wary of his actions. It was as if this were as common a sight as the sun in the sky.
"We stopped for a while," Cashmere claimed, keeping her voice steady, "but now that the new baby has been born, I'm sure Mother and Father will gladly begin again. They have been glowing with adoration for her. I don't think they could pass up a chance to flaunt the little brat."
"Dear me, jealous over the new baby? Maybe those New Years bows and curly pig tails do suit you," Junius hummed in her ear. Cashmere held her hands at her side, filed nails creating half moon craters in her palm. "Then again, I'm sure your parents would be more than happy to show off the daughter who cheated death."
Cashmere shook the man off her as she pivoted around to stare at him straight in his lime green eyes. Junius was youthful and surprisingly more handsome than she could recall 20 minutes ago. He was lean, skin as tight and new as if he were born yesterday. Unfurling her fingers from the ball they were in, she flattened them on his cheek. It could not possibly be real.
"Of course, if you don't mind me adding how beautifully you had claimed your crown. Sticking that boy from District Two in the heart with his sword was absolutely brilliant!"
She could feel the muscles tug into a smile on his face, his eyes opening wide with excitement at the recollection. Cashmere could not say she felt the same as her vision blurred and the room began to spin. Falling to her knees, she clasped her head in her hands, eyes falling shut.
He had wrestled her to the rain drenched arena floor, his sword hanging idly at his waist as he attempted to stab her with the knife in his hands. She remembers how thick the core of his body felt between her bare legs; how impossible it seemed to shift his body weight from her. If he had been at his full strength, with a few complete meals sitting in his stomach, she most likely would have died right then and there. But she knew he was sleep derived, hungry and incredibly weary. Mustering all she could, she managed to send his large frame toppling down, soiling his open calf wound. His sword flew out of his hand as he fell hard against the ground. Immediately, he reached for his sword. Syn swung it as high as he could, his arm span ready to bring the tip of the blade straight down through a bald spot on her head. Cashmere held onto her shriek as she made a grab for her axe and swiped it just in time to chop his arm above the joint.
"Are you alright, Ms Reitz," It was Felix's soft voice that she heard calling in the distance.
Syn's screams were shrill and provided them both with the perfect distraction as Cashmere ripped the sword from his grasp and skewered him through the heart. Six times.
She could feel the blood seeping down his arm onto her hands, the smell mixing with the mud at her feet brought waves of nausea. But Cashmere didn't have time to expel the limited contents of her stomach when the canon fired. The Capitol was hovering above her, reaching down to collect their bodies.
"Someone, please help!" Felix roared loudly amongst the mansion, she could feel his voice bounce off the walls, "Cashmere!"
Amongst the ringing of the canon, she heard every single click of shoes that came running up towards her. That grotesque warmth filled her body again. She could feel her stomach churn as people began to mutter in wonder around her.
"Head between your knees, princess, and breathe through ya nose," an unfamiliar voice instructed her gently.
The voice was not laced with Capitol inflections. It was much less refined, as if the man learned to speak with the least amount exposure to education possible. "If you don't breathe, I'm gonna assume you're dead."
Cashmere inhaled deeply and exhaled slowly. She repeated the cycle until her vision cleared and she could see the mass of people not a yard in front her.
"When you're ready to stand, squeeze my hand. I'll help you up," the district man said with his hand held out in front of her. His skin was dark, unlike someone from Four, more like a person from Eleven or Twelve. She brought her eyes up to his face. The man's gray eyes were harder than Gloss' and her step-father's, yet they struck a chord of familiarity and security inside her.
Cashmere nodded, hair falling out of the bun as it stuck to her perspirating face. She reached out a slimy hand to his, clenching it tightly. His hands were ice in comparison, but he did not pull back. As promised he helped her up. With a wobbly step, she tripped into his other outstretched arm.
"How about we get ya cleaned up," he asked, leading her through the dividing crowd towards the closest washroom.
The walls of the corridors were as sickly white as the President's office. What was not lacquered in the blinding wash was covered in what Cashmere recognized as paintings from before Panem. History class in the Academy covered topics of not just war during and before Panem, but time periods of painters, inventors and innovators.
"Monet… and Van Gogh…" Cashmere mumbled, pointing to their respected paintings. Though, all it earned her was a quizzical look from the man who gripped onto her tighter as they continued on. Her history teacher, Ms. Agate, claimed that these paintings were lost upon the creation of Panem in what was called the Apocalypse. However, the term Apocalypse is a term frowned upon. President Snow, who authorized the words written in their textbooks, preferred the term, The Final War. If Snow began to censor the history textbooks, what else was he keeping from the people of Panem ?
"Ah! This should be it." The man chimed as he turned the golden handle. Unfortunately, what lay behind the door was not a washroom. A young man, who looked no older than her current escort, lay amongst his gold, satin bed sheets with the young woman who took last year's crown, wrapped around his hips. Her long, black hair fell just above her tail bone; sultry brown eyes clouded as she looked towards their guests with a smirk. Sitting up on his elbows, the young man's blood eyes shot open while his short, snow white hair was plastered to his face.
"Wrong room, much? Bathroom's next door. On your right," the woman purred, exposing her sharp teeth, the points shinning in gold.
"Sorry 'bout that," with that, the district man slammed the door behind them.
Upon opening the correct door, Cashmere fell onto the pristine white tiles. She slowly crawled over to the porcelain basin and hugged the bowl for dear life as what was her lunch, came up.
When she pulled her colourless face from the toilet, her vision was 20/20. The district man stood there watching her, back leaning against the granite sink counter with those gray eyes of his dancing in amusement. He was a lot more attractive than her blurry vision and well trained District One ears gave him credit for, even if he did smell heavily of scotch.
"It's nice not seeing the bottom of the bowl for a change," Cashmere took it back; there was nothing attractive about a man taking pleasure in her pain. "Drink too much?"
"No," she retorted, pushing loose pieces of hair behind her ear, "I just…kind of had a moment."
The man's smile fell and he slid down the cabinets until his bottom touched the cool floor. "I can understand that."
Cashmere groaned as her larynx closed and she felt another wave of bile travel up through her esophagus.
She could feel his cool hands through the thin fabric of her dress as they made large, soothing circles on her back. "I'm sure she'd have come if Tiff knew this was going to happen."
"Huh?" Cashmere mumbled, lifting her head once more, saliva pooling at the corner of her mouth.
The man laughed while he ran a hand through his dark hair and down his face. Tearing off a piece of toilet paper from the roll, he dabbed away the fluid. "Babysittin' other Victors' kids is not somethin' I'd like to make a habit. Tell Tiff that." He threw the soiled paper into the toilet, "'specially kids like you. If I didn't know they'd trained ya, I would've called it a miracle that you came outta those games alive."
Cashmere huffed and swiftly bounced onto her feet, ignoring him. Flushing the vomit down, she washed her hands and pulled out the tie that held her bun of hair in place. Flicking the blond mass left to right, then down and up, the mess dissipated and organized itself beautifully down her back. Clearing her smudged make up with a tissue, she smacked her bare lips with a sigh. The little piece of Gloss she carried with her went down the drain along with everything else.
What time was it anyways?
"Now that you've got some colour in your cheeks, I'mma head out," The man called, "It was nice to meet'cha, princess."
"Wait!" She reached out to him, grabbing his wrist, "Which district are you from?"
A broken smile crossed his face as he tugged his hand free, "Twelve." And he curtly ducked out of the door before she could ask any more questions.
She began to chase after him, only to have Junius Gallus step out in front of her and claim her full attention. "There you are! Did you have a delightful escapade with Mr. Abernathy?"
Abernathy? Haymitch Abernathy! The victor from the Second Quarter Quell.
She had just turned six years old when it aired. Her natural father, Spinel Graff, was to bring a birthday cake from the bakery on his way home from work that day. It was to be covered in pink flowers and gold piping, at her request. Her neighbourhood friends were to arrive at noon, they were going to play in her new mini pool she had in her backyard
Until then, she sat in front of the best television a gold welder's money could buy and watched as Rouge chased after Haymitch with her axe.
"Mama, look! She's going to win!" Cashmere called out, pointing her tiny, thin finger at the screen.
"Wouldn't that just be spectacular?" Pashmina smiled as she came into the living room, wiping her hands onto a dish towel. "I wonder if we get twice as much for Parcel Day since it's a Quell. I could really use another winter coat."
Cashmere blinked, cocked her head to the side and shrugged. Her two perfect, ribbon wrapped pig tails bounced from side to side as she turned her head back to the action. Haymitch hobbled along as Rouge trailed quickly and heavily behind him. All his earlier swiftness clipped by the slice in his abdomen that Rouge gleefully inflicted.
They were coming out of the thick forest and into a clearing, nothing but a cliff and pink sky. Cashmere scooted closer to the small screen as she watched Haymitch's gray eyes flicker around his immediate surroundings for an exit. District One was going to win again this year! She just knew it!
That's when the phone rang. Pashmina turned back to the kitchen, where the sole phone laid rest on the wall beside the back door. Cashmere could not make out the words her mother was saying, her ears were deaf to anything that was not the crunch of leaves under Rouge's feet.
Cashmere's hands curled around her tinsel party dress as she watched Rouge's axe go flying right at Haymitch, whose gray eyes were wide and as bright as a deer caught in headlights.
"Cas, hunny," Pashmina whispered as she placed a hand on her daughter's shoulder, "We have to go to the hospital."
"Huh?" Cashmere turned around, her green eyes sparkling, "Why?"
"There was an accident at work, daddy's not well."
All the joy and excitement dulled instantly in her eyes. Raising her arms above her head, Cashmere was picked up and taken to the car.
When they arrived at the hospital, doctors, nurses and families were running every which way. Cashmere gripped onto her mother's hand tightly as Pashmina weaved them through the mass of people towards a bulletin board. It had the names and faces of lots of different men. Scanning row by row, Cashmere didn't see her father up there.
"Mommy, why isn't Daddy here?" Cashmere asked, tugging on her mom's hand. Looking over at her mother, Cashmere saw the redness in her mother's cheeks. The fluorescent lights above them reflected off the tiny tears that travelled down her face.
"Mommy, where's Daddy?"
Sinking to her knees, Pashmina wrapped her shaking arms around her daughter and squeezed. "Mommy, I can't breathe. It hurts." Loosening her grip, Pashmina did not let go.
Cashmere later found out that the force field that lay beyond the cliff caused the axe to bounce back at Rouge, piercing her square between the eyes. She was the second person that did not come home that night.
"Well?" Junius asked again with a raised brow.
"I'm sorry, I have to go," Cashmere choked as she tried to sidestep the man. He would not allow it. Grabbing her wrist, he swung her around and forcefully threw her into the nearest wall. The back of her skull throbbed from the force.
"Listen to me you stupid girl. I paid good money to help sponsor you through those ridiculous Games for your dear, old dad. Now, our dear President honoured me with some of your unregimented time and I would very much like to take full advantage of it." He hissed in her ear as one his boney knees cracked open her thighs.
Instinct kicked in as Cashmere's self-defense training came to light. Taking the heel of her foot, she pushed it into the inner most part of his, throwing him off guard while giving her the opportunity for a clothed knee to make contact with his crotch. Falling to the floor with a cry, Cashmere dashed away from Junius Gallus. Hopefully she will never have to see that pervert's face again.
Running against the current stream of Capitol folk as they made their way into the dining hall, Cashmere dashed out the front doors. Rows upon rows of cabs lay waiting in park for drunken citizens to cart around to various destinations. Climbing into the first one she could find, she realized she wasn't alone.
Those hard gray eyes blinked back at her while a strong hand wrapped around the neck of a bottle of scotch. "Guess we're both goin' back to the Training Centre then."
"No, the train station." Cashmere called, her hands turning in on themselves, "I am not spending one more minute here in this disgusting, ill-mannered city."
"Well aren't you a little firecracker, princess," Haymitch roared with laughter, "Still, Training Centre first." He smiled lazily to the driver, ushering him to start the engine.
"Why?! What's there?"
"I don't think Tiff would like you leavin' her behind," he took a swig from his bottle as the cab pulled out of the courtyard and onto the main street.
The drive was quiet as only the car rattled and alcohol sloshed around in the bottle. When the cab arrived, Cashmere dashed from the vehicle first. Not bothering to thank or pay the driver for his services. Bursting through the door of the apartment and into Tiffany's room, Cashmere woke her mentor violently.
"I'll fucking cut you!" Tiffany yelled out into the dark before she realized Cashmere was the one to have shoved her out of bed.
"Get up, we're leaving!" Cashmere growled.
"Don't talk to me like that, show some respect."
"Whatever, I'm sick of this stupid place and its ridiculous people. I was going to go home but Mr. Abernathy wouldn't let me board the train without you coming with me. So here I am. Let's go."
Tiffany's blue eyes widened and she jumped up and out of her sleep wear.
"You have 5 minutes to get changed. I will meet you out front," Tiffany said while throwing on the most comfortable clothes she could find from her closet.
Haymitch was still sitting in the cab when the girls from One arrived, "Evenin' ladies, would'ya like a ride?"
Tiffany rolled her eyes and opened the door, shoving the man over to make room for them, "Going home too, Abernathy?" she asked with a smile, her hand grabbing for the near empty bottle.
He took the final swig of his bottle before throwing it out the open window, "I've wanted to the moment I stepped off that first train."
"When you pass through District 12 on the Victory Tour, make sure you've brought a hospitality token." Tiffany advised as she watched the neutral landscape between the Capitol and District One pass by.
"Hm? Okay." Cashmere agreed, idly playing with her nails.
"Haymitch stuck his neck out for you tonight. I'm not sure why, but you need to thank him for it."
"Sure, okay," she peeled off more of the green polish.
"Do you want to tell me why he would do something like that?" She attempted to make eye contact with Cashmere, but the girl would not pick her gaze up from her lacquered nails.
She shrugged as she started on her right hand now, "I guess he thought it would be better if I didn't regurgitate all over President Snow's marble floor."
Tiffany shook her head and went back to staring out the window.
"Oh! He wanted me to let you know, he didn't want to have to babysit again," Cashmere claimed as she too began to watch the scenery go by. Tiffany laughed lightly before it faded and turned sour.
"What's wrong?"Cashmere glanced up.
"Hm? Oh. Nothing," She looked Cashmere up and down. Even the t-shirt and shorts she changed into accentuate all the right curves on her body. She emitted sex wherever she went and there was no way to control it. She prayed that Snow would have some mercy on this young girl's soul.
Cackling at her own ridiculous thought, she scared Cashmere accidently. Snow having mercy, why did she think that was possible?
They arrived at the station in District One two hours after their departure time. No one was there to greet the Mentor or Victor upon their return. The residents were all tucked cozily into their beds at three o'clock in the morning.
Cashmere inhaled a deep breath of the candy sweet air. The asphalt was cool beneath her bare feet, while her high-heeled shoes dangled from her fingers.
"Ready to go?" Tiffany asked. The cab she called stood not three meters away from the platform. With a whip of her hair, Cashmere smiled more radiantly than her mentor had ever seen before.
"Let's go!"