AN: Ah, thanks so much for the reviews! Hope you enjoy this next chapter!
"What?" asked Cinna. He frowned, his eyebrows pulling together as confusion came on his face.
"Do you know how to get out of the Capitol? Please I just . . . please can you help?" asked Seneca as his eyes wildly moved around the crowd.
Cinna looked to see what Seneca was looking at and saw the Peacekeeper headed in their direction. He looked back at the gamemaker, then the Peacekeeper, and it only took him a few seconds to finally make up his mind. "This way," he replied, grapping Seneca by the arm and dragging him in a different direction.
They dodged through the crowd, in some cases actually having to push people out of the way to get through. Seneca had no idea where the Stylist was leading him, but he trusted him in his judgment. Really, he was happy that out of anyone he could've bumped into, it was him. He truly doubted that anyone else would've helped him anyway.
Cinna took him into the more residential area of the Capitol. There were little or no Peacekeepers here, meaning they didn't have to rush as much. The streets were emptier as well since many were celebrating the end to the Hunger Games.
Seneca was about to ask what their destination was exactly when suddenly Cinna moved towards the door to a house and quickly pulled Seneca in.
"We should be able to rest here for a bit so that we can get everything straightened out," Cinna said with a sigh as he locked his door.
"I presume this is your home."
"Then you presume correctly," replied Cinna as he swiftly moved into a different room.
As he did, Seneca looked around, taking everything in. The place, though still with the look of a Capitol home about it, was a lot more open and well spaced. Out of the homes that he had been in, many were overcrowded and two big as well, as if the people were trying to show off as much as they could. Cinna's was certainly a lot nicer and orderly, except for the papers that were strewn everywhere.
Seneca picked up one, and then another, quickly finding that not all of them were sketches for fashion designs. Some were of simple things like trees or a cup, but there were a few people drawn as well. Frowning, Seneca tried to figure out who the people were when suddenly it dawned on him. They were the Tributes from District Twelve. Looking at them made Seneca grow sad, knowing that he had played a part in each one of the children's' deaths.
Suddenly, trying not to look guilty, he placed it down as Cinna came back into the room, caring empty bags.
"You said you wanted to get out of the Capitol?" Cinna asked.
"Yes."
"Well, where exactly were you planning to go?" wondered Cinna.
"I honestly don't know but anywhere is better than here," Seneca answered truthfully.
"And how is that?"
"I'd rather not give President Snow the satisfaction of seeing my dead body."
"So he does want you dead."
"No, he wants to congratulate me on a job well done!" Seneca yelled in response. However, upon seeing Cinna flinch slightly, he quickly added, "I'm . . . I'm sorry. I shouldn't have yelled."
"You're under a lot of stress at the moment. It's understandable," replied Cinna. The Stylist then turned away, gathering what was most likely food into one of the bags when he asked, "Why did you do it? Save them? You must've known what was going to happen."
"As stupid as it may sound, having a victor for each Game helped in giving me some condolence from causing the deaths of so many. The idea that no one . . . not a single child would live . . . I was honestly sick of it. I'm still trying to figure how I built up the courage to do it though. Call it an act of madness I suppose."
"I call it an act of bravery," replied Cinna softly.
"I was anything but brave."
"Yes you were. Even in an act of madness, hardly anyone here would've spared their lives. I applaud you for that."
Seneca sighed, giving a sad smile. He looked down at the ground, and then back up at Cinna. "Thank you . . . I guess."
"You're welcome."
The room went silent then, just the movement of Cinna moving things into the bags, packing as much as Seneca would be able to carry. Finally though, Seneca had to ask, "And why are you helping me?"
"I'm sick of this country, the government, the people. There should be, needs to be, a change and for a while, I thought it might not happen in my time. Katniss helped to change my mind about that. That girl from District Eleven, Rue, she also helped. You convinced me as well. I thank you for that."
"Well, I certainly wasn't trying to inspire anyone when I save their lives."
"In a way, I guess that's what makes it so genuine," responded Cinna. He then finished packing the bags, saying, "Now to get you out of here."
"Where would you go?" asked Seneca, as he grabbed one of the bags.
"Well, I'd see if I could make it to one of the Districts and try to change my looks as well, so that any Peacekeepers wouldn't recognize me. Still, it would be risky and you can't stay out in the wild forever."
"I can certainly try. I've picked some handy tips over the years."
"You know, watching something and doing it for yourself are do very different things."
"I understand that. But I do know what foods and plants are poisonous. I know where the best places to spend a night are when hiding or trying to stay away from wild animals. Having zero running water or electricity will certainly be difficult at first but I think I'll get use to it eventually."
"Anyone else and I'd say they were lying. You though, I trust you," replied Cinna.
"And how exactly do you know I'm not lying?"
Cinna paused, looking the gamemaker over until he finally said, "Your eyes. There's just something in your eyes that makes me believe this." He stopped again, seeming to take all of Seneca in, body, mind, and soul, with a single glance. "Come, the Peacekeepers are probably on to us by now. Let's go."
