Beetee padded down the stairs, running his fingers down the handrail and stomping his feet without worry of waking anyone. His mother and father wouldn't be home. They'd still be at the bar, trying to sober up in time to realise what day it was. They wouldn't have time. They'd find the house empty, void of life.

He nosily opened the door to the kitchen and switched on the overhead light, surprise stopping him in his tracks as he noticed a familiar woman standing beside the coffee machine, aimlessly stirring her steaming mug of milky liquid. A tired smirk curled on her lips with one eyebrow raised in a supposed sexy manner. "Good morning, Buzzy."

Beetee clenched his fists and slammed the door behind him, treading heavily towards the coffee machine where he all but shoved her to one side, though she took it as no surprise and moved with a faint chuckle to take her seat at the kitchen table. "Now, now, Mama wouldn't like that, would she?" She continued to stir her coffee, leaning her unclothed elbow on the table. "Would she?"

"Shut up Dolly!" Beetee snapped, raising a fist.

But he had no time to prove the strength of his words before the woman had him against the counter, his head inches away from the boiling cup of coffee he'd already poured. "Don't give me that type of filthy attitude! I'm not your mother!" She pressed down on his back harder than before, slipping nimble fingers around his neck.

"Alright! Alright!" Beetee retorted, hooking his ankle around hers and quickly hiking it up, loosening her hold on him in mere seconds as she tripped to the side, but regained her balance in time to stop from landing on the floor. "Who's the smartarse now?"

"Still me." Another smile appeared on her face as she drifted back towards her seat, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "C'mon Buzzy, sit down and let's chat 'bout this shit."

Beetee grabbed his coffee, deciding not to add milk. He breathed out heavily, lungs heaving as he grabbed the inhaler sitting in the middle of the oak-wood table. "Thanks," he muttered, pulling out a chair while uncapping the small device to place it against his lips and breathe in. "Alright, what is it you're wanting to discuss?"

Dolly shrugged her shoulders as she carefully evened out her dress, the grey cloth silky under her rough fingertips. "The Games, of course." The subject was sore and cold, her once loud and irritating voice downing to a dreaded whisper. "Put your glasses on."

Beetee fished the wire-framed glasses from his pocket, shoving them up his nose. "Look, Doll, I know what you're going to say and-"

"-I can't wait to mentor you."
"-please don't go through with it. But I..." He trailed off.

Surprise shone in Beetee's eyes as Dolly spoke first, her lips pursed. "Wait, what?" he spat, eyebrows raised. "But-but the other day? And-and you? You-you said I-You... You were trying to not make me volunteer!"

"Yes, well, I've changed my mind, Buzzy! I can't wait to see you win!"

His eyes darkened at her happy, pleased tone. "Doll... I... I don't think I'll come home - for goodness sakes, I'm from district 3 and am weak as hell. There's no bloody way I'll make it."

The mentor felt a sorrow in her chest, her eyes grave. She let out a low sigh and grabbed her coffee, deciding to avoid the topic, even though she'd started it. "I... Where are your parents? I thought they'd be here. I had to break in."

Beetee rolled his eyes. "Getting drunk," he replied in a bitter tone, glancing towards the door which led to the world outside, a place he quite rightly hated. He spent most of his time in his room, reading. "Thanks for breaking the lock."

"Oh, don't worry 'bout it," Dolly replied, beckoning Beetee to his feet as she left her mug on the table. "Wanna go for a walk?"

"The Reaping's in less than an hour."

Dolly's blue eyes narrowed as she flicked her blonde hair over her shoulders, hands resting on her hips. "Well, we can walk there, then!" she snapped, raising a hand before she quickly dropped it to her side, clenching and unclenching her fist. "C'mon, Buzzy."

Beetee was quick to leave his home, but not before he grabbed the jacket off the back of his chair - Gear's old jacket; it was tattered now, but it kept him warm.

"Buzzy!"

"Alright, alright!"

Beetee closed the door behind him even though it wouldn't stay in place. The lock was blackened from the use of fire, a rock sitting bluntly next to the path. He grumbled and shoved it behind the door, sitting it there.

Dolly's voice began to get harsher as he took more and more time to follow, his breathing shallow when he finally caught up. "Use your bloody inhaler."

"I am! I am!" Beetee responded with a huff as he pushed his glasses back up his nose and continued forwards, medium-length hair unkempt and unwashed.

Dolly eyed his the untidy mess. "The Capitol will have a field day with you," she stated, slowing her pace to a firm walk beside the male, reaching up to softly pat the black hair in hopes of getting the dust out. "When'd you last bathe?"

"A week ago," Beetee replied, holding his head high in boyish pride, curling his lip back in hostility. "But that's not important, Dolly." He lowered his voice, eyes skimming the sidewalk as he began to notice a few families already leaving for the Reaping. "What can you tell me? About-about volunteering."

She gave a full-bodied shrug, leaving naught room for much chatter. "Look, I can't begin mentoring you until you're on the train." She looked sideways. "It's dangerous, Buzzy."

"For me, or for you?" Beetee replied in a hushed voice, slipping his hands into his pockets so he wouldn't start to fidget, a horrible habit he'd gotten from his brother.

"Both of us." Dolly's dress didn't have pockets and it left her with insecurities, crossing her arms high on her chest. She didn't like dresses, they made her feel weak and on-show; nothing hidden. "No matter what happens, you're going to volunteer, correct?"

"Correct." Beetee nodded his head a number of times, messy hair flinging across his pale face. "No matter who is picked, I'll throw my hand up and shout the good ol' 'I volunteer!'."

"Great, they'll love it. Just smile and act happy for the cameras." They were almost there, and time had sped up, children crowding the sign-in area as they said goodbye to their mothers, fathers, siblings or guardians.

The square, a normally depressing place with an open factory right behind it, was colourful and bold; ribbons of red and green, blue and purple tied high in the dusty trees that had long lost their life. Beetee swallowed and carefully took another poof of his inhaler, waiting ten seconds before letting out a breath with a trail of white smoke to follow. Should of probably left that a little longer, he thought with an air of annoyance.

Behind the thin glass of his spectacles, Beetee watched a few of the girls sign in, but his main attention was focused on a few of the men, tall and hardy - how they were like that in district 3 was beyond the seventeen-year-old's wisdom, watching their chests move with little to no effect.

He blinked and looked away, his heart beginning to beat just a little faster at the horrid realisation that he'd been staring. Beetee cleared his throat and looked towards Dolly, who stood barely a foot above him. "So, any idea who'll be going in with me?" His voice had become small. He could almost feel the anxiety that fell off him in waves.

"No," Dolly replied, turning to face him fully. "I've gotta rush and get ready. Get yourself signed in and I'll see you later." She unwound one arm to pat his shoulder, leaving her hand there as a ghost for a short second.

"See you." Beetee brushed passed her and went to check in.

And when it came to his turn, he shut his eyes tightly, letting out a whine as they pricked his finger. He caught the snickers from those behind him and walked forwards like the horribly young child he felt like.

I'm going to die.