Chapter Two: Party Fever

A/N: Holy crap! 19 reviews, 19 favourites and 37 follows for just one chapter. You guys really do amaze me and I'm so glad you responded so well to the first chapter of Porcelain.

To any that may have been concerned with this story being similar to Evanescence853's "Of Vanity and Corruption" - we have discussed our stories together at length and you can be assured that we both have very different directions. She is an amazing author and I completely respect her and adore her story, so there is no way that I would copy it.

Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! I know there isn't too much interaction with Finnick just yet, but you can be certain that there will be a lot more of him to come.

Miri thought that social gatherings in their apartment evoked the kind of dread that potential tributes must feel on Reaping day. It was only around twenty people, but they were all such high-ranking members of Capitolian society that Seneca had spent most of the afternoon reminding her to behave. Miri's dress was reminiscent of a peacock, all striking bright colours and bold patterns. She even had several feathers embedded throughout her hair – feather braids were, of course, one of the latest trends.

The gathering had started at seven o'clock sharp, with waiters around the apartment serving champagne and appetizers. It was now nearly eight-thirty, but Miri was still to breathe a sigh of relief at the absence of her grandfather, the infamous Obadiah Crane. There was no doubt in her mind that the former Head Gamemaker would arrive to congratulate his son of achieving the same title. Seneca of course was strutting proudly about the apartment, soaking in compliments like a sponge. Miri thought that tonight, it was her dad who was the real peacock.

"Oh, Miri, just look at you!" An emerald-haired woman practically shrieked, almost bowling Miri off her feet in her enthusiasm to swoop in and kiss both of her cheeks. Miri forced a smile, wishing she could be off with her friends rather than here with her father's boring friends and co-workers. "You are so grown up, how old are you now?"

"Sixteen," Miri replied. It was one of those horrible moments where the woman was likely a figure from her childhood, expecting to be recognised despite the fact that Miri had probably been a young child when they had been introduced. "I'm sorry, I've completely forgotten your name."

"Andromeda Silk." The woman looked quite shocked, as if she had not expected that Miri wouldn't remember who she was. "Miri, darling, you remember me from when you were a little girl, don't you?"

"Of course," Miri lied. You need to behave. You need to behave. Her dad's words rang through her head like alarm bells. She suddenly noticed that everything had gone quiet, the cheery chatter dying down into a low murmur. Miri knew what it meant. Drawing her shoulders back and turning slowly, she was not at all surprised to see her grandfather walking in through the doorway.

"Congratulations, son." Obadiah crossed over to Seneca, pulling the younger man into a masculine embrace and clapping him heartily on the back. "You've made me very proud."

Miri glanced around for the waiters, knowing that she would be needing all the champagne she could get her hands on now that Obadiah was present. Although he greatly approved of Seneca's latest achievements, Miri's recent antics had been…not entirely noteworthy. Swiping a champagne from a stunned waiter, Miri took a deep gulp. It tasted disgusting. She took another sip.

"Mirinda."

She spun around, just managing to refrain from sloshing the champagne over her expensive dress. Obadiah seemed to have an unpleasant habit of popping up near her without her noticing. Her grandfather had looked upbeat and proud in Seneca's presence, but now contempt was written in the stern lines of his face, his mouth downturned in what seemed to be a permanent frown whenever he was around her. His disdainful expression turned to the champagne in her hand.

"Aren't you a bit young to be drinking, my dear?"

"I'm just having the one, sir," Miri murmured. She didn't know why she was so cowed by Obadiah's presence, but she was not the only one. Everyone in the Capitol respected Obadiah Crane, especially considering he was a personal friend to President Snow. Miri had met the President on only two occasions. He was the sort of man who unnerved her, although she could not have said why.

"I am slightly surprised you aren't out partying with your…friends." Obadiah's tone was dripping with distaste, and Miri resisted the urge to glower. She would rather be with her friends as well, but she was here for a reason.

"It's a daughter's duty to show support for her father, isn't it?"

Obadiah's lips curved upwards into a mirthless smile. "That it is. I am glad that Seneca appears to have taught you something, at least."

"Indeed he has." Miri noted, not for the first time, that her relationship with her grandfather was a very odd one indeed. It felt more like they were rivals, forcing politeness for Seneca's sake, rather than blood relatives. Noting that Obadiah's sharp gaze was upon her, Miri tilted her head back and finished her glass of champagne. It left a burning sensation in her throat, but it was worth it for the disapproval that clouded his eyes.

"You are growing bold, Mirinda."

"No, sir," Miri replied with some glee, taking another glass of champagne from a waiter. "I am growing tipsy."

Obadiah's face tightened with anger, before he turned on his heel and strode away from her. Miri suppressed her smile by taking a sip of her new glass of champagne. Her intention wasn't always to antagonise her grandfather – but when he seemed to stare down at her in disapproval no matter what she did, it seemed much easier to behave scandalously and earn his contempt than clamour for his good graces.

Miri watched as her grandfather led Seneca aside into the conference room, taking care to close the doors behind them. She frowned, wondering what business Obadiah had with Seneca in private. She was too curious for her own good most of the time – and the alcohol had given her boldness. Finishing off her current glass of champagne, Miri set it down and headed for the conference room. She took some more champagne from a waiter, and hesitated before deciding on some cheese and crackers as well. It wouldn't do her any good drinking without having something to balance it out with.

Tentatively, Miri peered through the glass panes in the door – but there was no sign of either Obadiah or Seneca. She guessed that they must have ventured onto the balcony to talk. Glancing around to make sure everyone else was occupied, Miri put the last of the cheese and cracker snack in her mouth and quietly opened the door, slipping inside before closing it quickly so that neither of her relatives would hear the snatches of conversation and realise someone was intruding.

"…just like her mother." Obadiah's tone was distasteful as Miri approached stealthily, taking care that she didn't take down any chairs on her way over to eavesdrop. "She is deliberately rebellious, and finds amusement in behaving like some kind of wild party-girl. There is very little of yourself in the girl."

"I've tried." Seneca sounded tired, and Miri suddenly realised that they were talking about her. She felt a surge of guilty. She didn't mean to cause such trouble for her dad, especially when he wasn't the one treating her with disdain. It was her grandfather she was alright with displeasing. "She's curious, Dad. She wants to know where pictures of her mother are. Perhaps it's time we opened up about it."

"No." Obadiah's tone was firm. Miri leaned forward slightly so that she could see them. Seneca was gripping the ledge with both hands, leaning forward with his head bowed. "Seneca, the girl cannot know. Why else do you think we've kept it from her all these years? If she finds out…"

What she was not meant to find out, Miri didn't get to find out, for she took a step back and collided with a chair. She fell heavily, her champagne glass rolling across the floor. The noise made both Obadiah and Seneca turn, and Miri braced herself, surmising that she was in a lot of trouble.

"Miri? What are you doing in here?" Seneca swept inside, setting the champagne glass on the mahogany table before helping his daughter to her feet. "Are you drunk?"

Perhaps she was a bit. Miri felt things spinning. Although she could still make sense of the world, things seemed sluggishly slow. She clutched at the back of the chair, realising that now she could take advantage of Seneca's assumption by making out that she was drunker than she actually was.

"Looking for my room." Miri deliberately slurred the words. Obadiah, predictably, was looking thoroughly irritated at the interruption, although not as angry as he would have been had he known that she had stumbled in on their conversation deliberately. Seneca sighed heavily, glancing at his father before back at his daughter.

"Your rooms are the level above this one," Seneca said patiently. "Can you get there yourself, or do you need me to take you?"

Miri had shared the same rooms as her father since she had been a child, but had always begged to get her own. She had been surprised on her sixteenth birthday when Seneca had bought her own room, in the same building and only the level above. It was not uncommon for Capitolian parents to do so, giving their children space while still keeping a close eye on them. Miri shook her head fervently.

"I can go myself."

Seneca watched as his teenage daughter made her way out of the conference room. He heaved a sigh and turned back to Obadiah, who was not looking impressed. It was true that the girl was her mother's image – and seemed to have inherited a fair share of her personality as well. Obadiah's frown was terse, arms folded over his chest.

"She cannot know the truth, Seneca. What do you think would happen if she found out?"

"I don't know," Seneca admitted. He had tried to protect Miri from the truth, but she was too curious for her own good. One of these days, she would find out. It was not a question of 'if', but 'when'.

"You don't understand," Obadiah sounded frustrated. "It is not just her who would be affected. If Miri finds out about her mother…it could destroy all of us."

The doors to the elevator opened, and Miri groaned, rubbing at the back of her neck. Perhaps she had been pretending to be drunk in front of her dad and grandfather, but she really did not feel so well. It had only been three champagnes, but they had been drunk within the space of half an hour, and she had only eaten cheese and a cracker. Miri stumbled into the elevator, pressing the button for her floor.

"Wild night?"

The male voice made her almost jump out of her skin. She hadn't realised that she wasn't alone in the elevator. She glanced at the young man who stood beside her, a somewhat forced smile spread across his features as he inspected her. He was…gorgeous. He was tall and muscular, with bronze hair and sea-green eyes. Miri knew that she recognised him, but she couldn't quite put a finger on where from. He was in his early twenties, and had Miri not been so drunk, she might have been speechless.

"Go away." She rubbed at her head, causing the young man to laugh at her misfortune. It seemed that he recognised the signs of drunkenness when he saw them. Miri leaned back against the elevator, tilting her head on the cool glass. She just wanted to be in her room, forgetting all about the conversation that Obadiah and Seneca had been having.

"Aren't you a little young to be drinking?" The young man inspected her critically. "What are you, fifteen?"

"Sixteen," Miri snapped in response. Generally she would have been more polite towards a complete stranger, however the alcohol pumping through her system meant her tolerance of human beings in general had reached a significant low. "Not that I see how it's any of your…"

She broke off, feeling bile rising in her throat. Before Miri knew what was happening, the elevator had pinged to let her know they'd stopped at her level – and she had vomited all over the poor young man's shirt. He made a noise of disgust and stepped back, staring down at the mess on his clothes. Completely mortified, Miri staggered out of the elevator, feeling her cheeks turning an excruciating red.

"I'm sorry. Sorry. I didn't mean to…"

The elevator doors closed before the young man could reply. Miri sighed heavily. He was vaguely familiar, but not enough so that she had seen him often. If she was lucky, perhaps she would never see him again and the incident would never have to be brought to light. Wiping her mouth on the back of her hand and cringing at the mere thought of what had just happened, Miri swiped her card and stepped into her room. Hopefully tomorrow morning she would have forgotten all about what had happened.

"That's it, get it all out of your system."

Seneca Crane felt more like a nurse than a Head Gamemaker as he rubbed his daughter's back. Miri was throwing up into the toilet, her blonde hair tied onto a bun on top of her head for the sake of convenience. Seneca wasn't generally what one would call a doting parent, but he understood hangovers all too well. Miri was slender and 5'2, so it made sense that even drinking a few champagnes was enough to get her in such a state.

"All done?" Seneca questioned tentatively. He loved his daughter, he really did, but he was not keen to get vomit on his new suit. He was dressed for work already, as the Reapings were only in a week's time. He needed to have everything prepared. Since his instatement as Head Gamemaker, Seneca had been working night and day on the arena and other aspects of the upcoming 72nd Hunger Games. Yet there were still some loose ends to be tied up.

"I think so." Miri's voice was hoarse as she flushed the toilet, splashing her face with water from the sink and inspecting her reflection. Although naturally pale, she looked white as a sheet. She turned to glance at her dad, who had his arms folded over his chest. There was a stern look on his face, like he was trying to emulate Obadiah.

"You shouldn't have had so much to drink."

Miri rolled her eyes. "I couldn't help it. I'm sorry, but your social events are dull."

Seneca stroked a hand over his immaculate beard. He knew that it couldn't be easy for a girl of Miri's age, a girl who wanted to go out and party rather than being forced to attend stifling functions. But he was the head Gamemaker now, and he needed to make a good impression. Attention wouldn't only be focused on him, but also on his daughter. Knowing that Miri was a natural mischief-maker made Seneca all the more determined to pull her in line. If he was seen as a father who let his daughter run wild…well, it wouldn't look good at all.

"Do you know what this promotion means for us?" Seneca asked, washing as she brushed her teeth.

Miri shrugged. "More money."

"Yes, I suppose that's one advantage," Seneca mused, leaning against the bathroom wall. "But I'm not talking money, darling. I'm talking prestige. Your grandfather Obadiah made a name for himself before his retirement after the 65th Hunger Games. We can't just expect to live on his good name alone. My promotion means that both you and I will be the most talked about people in Panem. We will go to all the most important functions, mingle with powerful people…sweetheart, you might even get a wealthy boyfriend."

Miri scowled at that. "I don't date, Dad."

"Well, when you do." Seneca waved a dismissive hand. "What I'm saying is that we'll be part of Panem's elite. President Snow's inner circle."

Miri liked the sound of that, even if she knew she wouldn't like all of the people. Caesar Flickerman's daughter Ithaca was a complete and utter bore who only ever talked about fashion and boys, and rumour had it that his son Cobryn was a vain young man. She would much prefer to associate with people her age who she chose to be around, however she understood that she would need to make sacrifices to help her dad. Seneca had raised her to the best of his ability, despite her often troublesome, attention-seeking ways.

"Wait, Dad." Miri frowned, two ideas colliding in her mind. "Who won the 65th Hunger Games again?"

"Finnick Odair," Seneca said, shaking his head slowly as if despairing of her. How could his daughter forget the most handsome man in Panem? At his words, Miri groaned and pressed her hands over her face and he frowned slightly. "What's wrong?"

"Does he have bronze hair and green eyes?"

"Yes, why?" Seneca was at a loss as to why his daughter was asking him such questions. Although it was true that Miri wasn't as boy-crazy as many other girls her age, he would have thought that even she would remember the Victor from Obadiah's last year as Head Gamemaker.

"I vomited on him in the elevator last night," Miri practically wailed.

Seneca could not help but wince. It was true that his daughter knew very few Victors personally, but when they discovered that Seneca was Head Gamemaker – well, every Victor would suddenly want to be Miri's best friend, out of pure selfish desire to help their tributes win the Games. It sounded as though Miri had not made a good first impression on Finnick, which was a shame considering that Finnick was a Career Victor and perhaps the most popular among the Capitolians.

"You know what Finnick Odair does, don't you?" Seneca questioned, his tone becoming rather stern. He did not want his daughter to become enamoured with the young Victor and end up losing…something valuable.

"Of course." Miri rolled her eyes. "He's a courtesan, isn't he?"

"And you are not going to use your money to…"

"Dad!" Miri was absolutely appalled. Yes, Finnick was an attractive man – well, from what she remembered – but that didn't mean she was going to stoop so low as to buy him. She wrinkled her nose in distaste. In any case, she was still a virgin, and she was not going to pay a man to take that away from her. "What do you think I am, desperate?"

"I think you are a teenage girl with hormones," Seneca replied calmly. He had been a teenager once, knew what it was like to lust shamelessly after members of the opposite sex. Yet he did not want Finnick, or any other Victors for that matter, to go near his daughter if they were looking for that. "Do we need to have a talk?"

"Not the talk," Miri groaned, drying her face with a towel and glaring over it at her dad. "I know about all of that, I'm not interested in it, alright? Can we just keep the discussion that brief?"

"Alright," Seneca relented, not really wanting to get into the gritty details with his daughter anyway. He had a lot of things to focus on within the next few weeks, and his teenage daughter's love life or lack thereof was not one of them.

Sorry for the repost, if you already got an email alert that's because my fanfic is being weird and wasn't sending out email alerts to my readers :( Has anyone else been getting this problem?