"Dinner'll be when the bell rings. Go get changed into something appropriate in the meantime." The escort is still only looking at me as the taps a framed map of the train on the wall. My room is two cars down, with Furio just past me.

My district partner takes one look at the map and charges out the side door. The escort gives a sigh of relief before squinting at me again.

"Well? What are you still doing here? Gonna ask me to get you a glass of water or something?"

"Ah... No..." I take a step back before hurrying to the next car.

The hall area is already clear, but the floor is still shaking from Furio's stomping. He certainly got through in a hurry... I don't think he wants to talk to me... I don't know why he would... Why did Celio think we would get along...?

But... we've only just been reaped. Maybe he just... needs some time to himself right now... I... could probably use it, too...

Without a sound, I step to the next door and slip through.

The train moves, the meals go by without conversation, and soon I'm alone again in the stylist room. It's... uncomfortable... There's not much to think about... but this demeaning treatment... and the Games themselves...

Furio... He seems more shaken than I thought he would be. As strong as he is... As animated as he was at the reaping... Why... has he so suddenly gone silent? He would... still snarl if we tried to talk to him... but that was it. He wouldn't look at me much, either... I couldn't really read... whether he was afraid or angry...

I wonder... if I should force talking to him... or just leave him alone...

I still haven't reached a conclusion when my stylist rolls a full-body mirror in front of me.

"Well, dear flower? What do you think?" His eyes flash in anticipation, although it takes me a minute to turn my head and look. I haven't been sleeping enough... or eating enough, really. I don't see how anyone could, in this situation...

Swinging my head over, I gaze dully at the mirror.

I—

I...

I look well.

I... Is this really my reflection...?

My arms hang at my sides as I lean a bit closer. You can't tell at all that I've been losing sleep. My eyes look... bright, almost. I could barely tell they were mine if they weren't blinking along with me.

Likewise, my dress has a lot of padding and fluff. A pale yellow ribbon wraps around the thinnest part of my waist, but the dress fabric bunches and falls away from it on either side. The skirt reaches to my ankles, and the sleeves billow away not far from my wrists. I'm sure, if you paid extra attention to those few spots, you could tell how thin I really am... but most people would be busier letting their eyes wander along the folds and complex, spotted patterns of the fabric.

My hair looks thicker than usual beneath the floppy-brimmed hat that just covers my bandages. It casts a bit of shade over my face, but not enough to deprive my makeup of its effect.

"Well?" The stylist gives me a sharp-toothed grin.

I stare at the mirror for another minute. "I... didn't know I could look like this..."

My stylist responds with a hearty laugh. "Such is why I love this job. Now, come, my flower; we must get you to the chariots. I, of course, look forward to working with you at another time. But now we must hurry."

"Understood..."

He leads me out of the room and down to the first floor, where many tributes and stylists mill about. The costumes are in all colors; it's kind of interesting to watch all of the motion from a distance. The horses have a certain earthy smell to them, but they look clean enough that I'd like to pet them. I don't know if I'd be allowed, though... I'd better not...

The horse for District 9 is a sort of dappled grey. He eyes me as I approach, but he only blinks and flicks his tail a bit.

My district partner is already on the chariot. From this angle, I can only tell that he's wearing a different suit, one in the color of wheat. It goes... interestingly with his skin tone.

We still have a bit of time... but it's not as if I'm going to talk to the other tributes... I don't feel like doing anything of the sort... just yet.

Instead I eye the lower step to the District 9 chariot and grab the side of the cab for balance.

"Ah—Violetta." A hand pulls my other arm up steadily, and I hurry to step up into the chariot.

Furio...?

Gripping my elbow out of habit, I look up at him. He eyes me nervously before exhaling and staring ahead, past the horse. He shoves his hands in his suit pockets before taking them out and leaning his forearms on the front edge.

"Dat's your name, right?"

"Ah..." My toes curl in my shoes. "You... can call me Violetta..."

He nods once, crossing a foot behind his other ankle. "All right. Youse don't gotta call me The Tiger or anything. We're in dis together, I guess. Associates, the two of us."

He... He really is... The Tiger...? Although I can't say... that's what surprises me most...

"You mean... allies...?"

He turns his head to look at me, and his eyes are unreadable. His eyebrows are lowered, but very rarely are they not.

"Yeah, I guess dat's the terminology 'round here. Allies, den." He straightens up and turns to face me. "So what are youse gonna bring to the table?"

"Bring...? Oh." I gaze out at the other tributes, who are filing towards their respective chariots now. "I guess... Well, I can cook. I... can start a fire easily... although it's not usually the kind you can stop... Hee... Hee... Hee..." I turn back to him. "Aside from that... I'm pretty good with poisons... and that's it. I can't fight... or run... or anything like that..."

"All right... Guess I can work wit dat." He rolls his shoulders back.

"I suppose... I don't even have to ask how useful you'd be..."

The guarded look in his eyes finally gives way to a flash of pride. "Any deadbeat'd figure dat out. I know youse hearda me. Believe me, I got my share of experience beatin' up clients what don't pay their bills on time." He sticks his tongue out far enough he could bite it in half with a little effort.

"Beating up...?" I watch the stylists give their subjects a few last tips and drift away. Mine just motions at me to smile, so I give him a nod. Furio's doesn't seem to be around. "What... do you mean by that...?"

"Yanno, nothin' much. Usually it's just breakin' a coupla bones, landin' a coupla bruises." He frowns at the chariots ahead of us and stands up straighter. "But I can do a lot worse dan that, don't you worry, Violetta. I just gotta aim a little different."

The look in his eyes hardens, and his gaze flicks down and to the right. Some memory... he doesn't seem very happy about...

But... I already knew... The Tiger didn't gain his position, or his wealth... by being softhearted...

So I do wonder... why he'd ally with me...

I'm sure I'll find out... But right now, the anthem is beginning, and the first horses are walking out. I need to stand tall and smile... Although getting made up... was tiring...

Our horse beings to clip-clop along not long after District 1 is out, but sunlight doesn't brush over us for another minute.

My legs are already wobbling... I mustn't lock my knees...

Furio gives me a perplexed glance as we're thrown along the Capitolite-lined path. The bass of the anthem sends an extra tremor through the chariot, but I can still hear the colorful fans cheering us on. Some flowers make it to us, although I think the tributes before us took the lion's share.

I should be waving right now... I think... But by now... I'm afraid I might lose my balance...

"Hey."

I turn my head towards Furio, who's eyeing me with his brow lifted. Despite the noise, I can hear him clearly—although he's never had any trouble being loud.

"Youse can always hold onta the chariot. As long as youse ain't leaning on anything, it won't make youse look bad."

"Ah..." I nod and grip the edge of the chariot in front of me. With our horse pulling us forward, this at least puts some of the strain onto my arms instead. As long as I don't lean...

I take a deep breath and gaze out at the crowd again, smiling. Some of the onlookers seem to ignore our chariot. Most that don't focus on Furio. They're already writing him down as a good bet... and writing me off, probably. I may not look ill at the moment... but I hardly look muscular... And the saw me at the reaping as well... They know my district partner has a much better chance...

I wonder what they'll think of us... being allies...

Furio finally seems ready to talk at dinner, but I'm too exhausted to hold up my end of the conversation. He leaves me alone before long.

Sorry... I'm sure I'll feel better... in the morning... For now, I'll just go to bed...

I leave the table before anyone has finished dessert, and I'm not followed out. After stumbling into a sleep gown, I collapse onto the mattress. I could care less about getting all of the pillows out of the way. I just want to lie here... for a long, long time...

A few minutes pass before loud footsteps thump by outside. Furio, probably...

So we're allies... in the Hunger Games...

It's such an odd thought... The Games. Kill or be killed... Which is worse...? To give up on life... or to take someone else's...?

If... I'm going to be in an alliance... I'll have to at least try to stay alive... and all that that entails. Otherwise... I'd be betraying Furio... when he's putting so much at risk staying with me...

But... it's still hard to think about murdering... It's one thing to hurt or frighten people... It's another matter entirely to end their existences...

I'm sure... The Tiger has done such a thing before... I've only heard rumors, of course, but... Even before he inherited that loan business... he wasn't an average District 9 citizen. I think most people are struggling... but he was even worse off...

Although I don't know that for sure. Maybe I'll ask him... It wouldn't hurt... to get to know each other... right?

I pull a cooler pillow under my head before I drift off.