Disclaimer: I do not own the Hunger Games, and by the looks of it, nor will I ever.

After a hard day of training, I showered and headed out of the training arena. Everyone was nice enough, but I wasn't in this for the laughs, I was here to win the games and I made that clear. I wasn't going to fake anything. I was nice enough towards the other girls but not nice enough to get attached or for them to underestimate me. The boys were the usual tribute material: cocky, huge, and ruthless. The kind I had been underestimated by for most of my life.

"Hey, knife girl!" a voice called from behind me and pulled me out of my thoughts. It was Cato again. What did he want this time? Maybe make fun of my training technique or build up his bigger than average ego by patronising me.

"My name is Clove," I whipped my head around and snarled. I wasn't going to take any of his rubbish.

He looked down at me in amusement and smirked, "fine, Clove. Impressive training session, you're good and I don't just say that to everyone."

"Thank you." My brow furrowed in confusion, what was his game?

"We can discuss tactics if you want right now…you know, I'll give you handy tips and you can thank me."

"I can't tell if you're being serious or not but I have better things to do with my time than hang out with an egoist mutt," I growled and promptly started walking away.

"Hey, come on! I was being nice!" Cato yelled and jogged on beside me, "what's your problem anyway? I'm trying to help you from getting eaten alive by the rest of the girls."

"Why would you do that?" I asked, "What's in it for you? Don't give me that look either; you're one of those guys who wouldn't do anything for anyone unless there was something in it for you."

"I'm going to be the male tribute this year," he stated simply and I slowed down my pace a little to try and process what Cato was saying to me.

"Cocky, arrogant, self-centred idiot," I muttered under my breath. Unluckily he seemed to have heard my comment.

"You can say what you want Clove but we both know the other guys stand no chance against me…it's practically fixed and if I don't get picked as tribute you can bet the odds that my parents would pay to have the male tribute fall ill or lose a leg. This is my year," his voice throbbed with pride and aggression but underneath that I could hear a layer of something that sounded like desperation.

"So what does that have to do with helping me?" I demanded with a suspicion already growing in my mind

"I want District Two to win and the only way I can do that is by having a competent female tribute along with me," I wondered if he ever heard what came out of his mouth before as he explained, "Silver Baxwoll is incompetent and I would have shot her pancreas down too if her father wasn't the Mayor. As for Blossom, she's impressive with the sword, of course not as impressive as me, but it always helps if the two tributes have different strengths. And I doubt she'll be winning many sponsors…she isn't exactly a vision of beauty."

I suppressed a chuckle at Cato's comments. Who would have known he'd ever be this amusing.

"So…you want to train me to be picked as the female tribute above the other girls because I can throw a knife and don't make you throw up?" I said in disbelief, raising my eyebrows. I realised that Cato had been leading the way to the main street and it looked like we were heading towards Geri's, a salon like drinks bar. He opened the door for me and gave me a questioning look.

"Well?" Cato said impatiently.

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