A/N: holy crap I can't believe it took me this long to update .
Sorry. If anyone is even reading this anymore, hopefully the next chapter won't take as long. Hopefully. Although I still don't know what I'm going to do for the interview part...
Anyway enjoy :)
You're always on display And it's obvious that you're dying, dying.
For everyone to watch and learn from,
Don't you know by now,
You can't turn back
Because this road is all you'll ever have.
Just living proof that the camera's lying.
And oh oh open wide, 'cause this is your night.
So smile, 'cause you'll go out in style.
You'll go out in style.
-Fences, by Paramore
Cerise POV
I'm feeling a little better when I finally make my way to breakfast. Katniss has given me my first piece of advice since I was chosen as tribute. Maybe it isn't something to help me survive in the arena but it must be significant if she bothered to tell me at all. Besides I know the opening ceremonies are one of the important steps to getting sponsors and that's what my stylist will be getting me ready for. Of course, even feeling a little less worried about my mentors not wanting t assist me, I am very nervous of what might be coming from my stylist I'll want to resist in the first place.
Fortunately this worry doesn't lessen my appetite today and I stuff myself at breakfast. The food is so wonderful I'm sorry when I'm finally full and unable to eat anymore of it. The others were talking about the opening ceremonies when I came in and Marcello has also received the same information as I did.
Don't resist. Don't resist.
After breakfast I just stay where I am, digesting my meal, while some of the others scatter about. Suddenly the outside of the train has gone dark and I realize we must be in the tunnel. I'm hit with the notion that this is really happening. All my worry until now is nothing compared to this overwhelming feeling of finality as we go through the tunnel, under the mountains that separate the districts from the Capitol. There's certainly no hope of them turning back now, of all this really ending up being a sick joke. I'm sorry I ate so much now.
When we emerge and the light filters back in through the windows, I feel tempted to go look at the city that is supposedly so glorious but I can't will myself to move. Marcello walks over and takes a look outside. We're ushered off the train and into the remake center. I keep chanting Katniss's advice over and over in my head like a mantra.
Don't resist. Don't resist. Don't resist. Don't resist...
I spend all day being scrubbed, plucked, dyed, painted and dressed. By the time it's all finished I hardly recognize myself. My hair has been pulled back and twisted into a bun at the nape of my neck. The ends are loose though and hang down over my shoulders and against my upper back, curled into perfect little ringlets. Cinna decided to put red highlights in my hair. This also brought out the natural amount of the colour that was already there. I'm not exactly sure what the team did but my skin is literally glowing in the light. I suspect it has something to do with that cream they'd rubbed me down with earlier.
My outfit consists of a strapless dress that reaches my knee, with black tights on underneath. The bodice of the dress is black, with strips of fabric all the way from the skirt to the top of it in a red-orange colour. Sewn onto the pieces of fabric are very tiny gemstones in the same colour, in varying shades of red, orange, and yellow. There's excess of the fabric that hangs loose all the way up, hanging down in a sort of ruffle. This excess sways and flutters, causing the gems to catch the light. The skirt itself is just dozens of streams of the same fabric hanging down from the edge of the bodice. This is the part that will be lit on fire. Looking at the outfit I think I'll end looking just like a piece of coal lit on fire, except far more magnificent.
My shoes are black flats, similar to my own I note, except they are also covered in gemstones in various flame patterns. Even my fingernails have been painted black and have little red, orange, and yellow stones stuck on each nail. Finally there's my make-up. Other than the stuff they used on my skin earlier, my eyes are lined in black and eyelashes have a coat of mascara over them, my lips have been mostly left alone except for a clear gloss.
Marcello and I are being helped up onto the chariot. A person can only be so anxious before they start to lose it. Marcello next to me is wearing black slacks, a black shirt, and a jacket in the same red-orange fabric as on my dress with the strips attached to it. I suspect that will be the part lit on fire.
The music blares through speakers outside and the crowd is cheering as the first chariot leaves the remake center. I'm generally in a daze until it's all over. Our costumes are set ablaze, our chariot is paraded around in front of the Capitol, and things are very loud. Unfortunately he's still alive. My pulse is loud in my ears the whole and it actually seems to drown out all the other noise. I can't believe how nervous I am. If it's this bad at only the opening ceremonies how am I supposed to hold it together for interviews, let alone going into the arena itself? The smile on my face doesn't falter though, and I have to wonder if I'll ever be able to stop. My hand seems to be waving of its own accord. I don't snap out of it until we've entered the training center and my flaming skirt has been detached from my dress and extinguished, leaving me in the tights and top of the dress.
People have gotten used to seeing District 12's flaming costumes annually now and they aren't quite the exciting spectacle they originally were, but they still manage to dazzle. Marcello doesn't seem anymore affected by this whole ordeal than he was on the train. It makes me wonder. Perhaps he's just really good at hiding his emotions; I'll have to keep an eye on him since he is an opponent after all. I wish I had the composure he has. It seems I haven't freaked out really since all this happened but I can feel it all slowly creeping to the surface. I've always been the kind of person who wears their heart on their sleeve. My father used to say I never met an emotion I didn't like. Which of course is ridiculous since I don't know many people who enjoy pain and sorrow, but I digress.
We all clamour into the elevator and I see Effie Trinket has joined us again, and Katniss, Peeta. I'm unsure of where Haymitch might be. It seems that he's mostly just here to watch now, leaving the mentoring to Katniss and Peeta. Of course they know what he knows so really this isn't a concern.
When we reach our floor I take the time to actually look around now, something I haven't really been doing much lately. Of what I can see, this place is just as lavish as the train; perhaps more so. Everything has been polished to the point it gleams. It looks to beautiful and expensive I'm afraid of even considering sitting down anywhere, even the floor. I'm tempted to take off my shoes but since no one else does, I don't bother.
My own chambers are unbelievable. I walk through the door and my jaw drops. After a moment of gaping I try to compose myself again. There are so many electronic gadgets, and panels, and buttons. The bed is huge and I figure it could probably hold 4 people easily and very comfortably. As it turns out when I wander through I learn it's not just one room it's multiple. Aside from the bedroom there's my own bathroom and a closet so huge I wonder if it's possible for anyone to ever wear that many clothes. Not to mention the bedroom is more of a sleeping area/sitting room since there are a couple chairs and a table present. Who do they think is going to be over? It's not like I have friends I can just invite over or something. Even though I'm impressed I can't help but think all this space for one person is utterly and completely unnecessary.
I don't really bother doing anything though, except but on a short, frilly yellow skirt over my tights. When I look in the mirror I think I look a little like a bumble bee with the black and yellow, but it looks nice still. The yellow seems to match what's left of my look from the opening ceremonies.
Effie comes to collect me for dinner and I follow her into a dining room. Everyone is there already, even our stylists. I was a little surprised to see them still around. Dinner is served and it's astounding how hungry I am. I do my best not to attack everything on the table but I'm sure it's a little frightening watching me devour my meal. No one comments though and they're all chattering about the opening. Even Haymitch has appeared.
Tomorrow we start training and I'm a dreading and anticipating it at the same time. Dreading it because I don't want another moment to pass by making the start of the Hunger Games closer and also because I'm worried about meeting the other tributes; they're sure to be intimidating and I can't afford to be intimidated and lose any hope I have. Anticipation because I really want to get started preparing myself, equipping myself with the necessary skills and knowledge to stay alive. It's one of those situations where you feel like you're being ripped in half by your emotions.
After dinner I head back to my room. Marcello and I exchange a long glance before we part. I think I hear him whisper, "Good night" but I can't be sure. Now I decide to have a shower, and clean off all the make-up and creams and sparkles from my costume. I'm able to take the pins out of my hair and massage my scalp. I don't know why I didn't do it earlier, they were pulling at my scalp and as soon as my hair is free I get instant relief.
I pull on a nightshirt and crawl into bed. Already I can feel myself about to start sobbing again. Sleep evades me; I toss and turn for at least an hour before there's a knock at my door. I don't think I have the will to get up, but somehow I do. Just before I open the door I wipe my tear streaked face with the edge of my pyjamas.
"What the heck does someone want now?" I mutter, and wrench the door open. Who's on the other side of that door? It's non-other than Katniss Everdeen.
"Hello." She says. "Hope I didn't wake you."
The way she speaks the last part makes me think she knew full well I would be up. I push the notion aside and shake my head.
"No, you didn't. Is something the matter?"
Katniss POV
All through dinner Cerise didn't say a word, yet again; although this time she seemed more occupied with the food. I haven't forgotten about before, at dinner on the train. She seemed like she wanted to say something, and then her outburst the next morning certainly confirmed that. Peeta and I have decided to go and speak to Marcello and Cerise tonight. Since I know her, and since we decided to do the "girl talks to the girl, guy talks to the guy" sort of thing, I'll be talking to Cerise.
I'm not sure what to say yet, but I'll think of something. It's more about getting her to say something. To ask questions and I will attempt to give her a useful answer. But whatever, I want to help but I'm really tired of all this. If it wasn't for the fact I'd feel guilty for doing nothing, I wouldn't be helping tributes at all. They never seem to really want my help all that much so why should I even offer it?
I reach Cerise's door and knock twice. I don't expect she'll be asleep. Sure enough she opens the door moments later, not looking at all like she just woke up but I can certainly tell she's been crying. I let out a sigh. I probably shouldn't be so irritated by this, I mean she is about to be forced to fight to the death with 23 other people, but it irks me. This better not mean she's going to be another tribute that just gives up and dies.
"Hello." I greet her, quietly. I throw in, "Hope I didn't wake you." Just for politeness, but I know she wasn't asleep and I even if she had been I don't really care.
She looks oddly at me and I think she hears the falseness of that last bit, but she doesn't say anything to indicate that so I could be wrong.
"No, you didn't. Is something the matter?"
I shake my head, "No everything is fine. I was just wondering if we could talk. I'm supposed to prepare you for the arena, so...do you have any questions? Something you want to know. Otherwise I could just sort of...talk about stuff."
This whole process has never gone smoothly; I don't know why we're doing it again, me and Peeta. It's always awkward as heck. I look around the hall and realize we're just sort of standing in the doorway.
"Can I come inside?" I ask.
Cerise looks surprised and she also peeks down the hall; apparently also having just noticed us standing around in front of her quarters. She gives a bit of a nervous laugh and steps aside.
"Sure, sorry." She says.
I merely shrug and walk inside. Not quite sure what to do with myself, I just end up sitting in one of the plush armchairs. Cerise is hesitant but eventually sits down too in the identical chair across from me. Things are silent for a few minutes. See what I mean? Awkward as heck. Damn this. It seems she also doesn't have anything to ask and this is just another waste of my time.
I should really try to hide my irritation but when I speak I'm forcing the words through gritted teeth.
"Well, anything you particularly want me to talk about? If not then I'll just tell you about starting training tomorrow and call it a night."
She looks a little shocked by my hostility but shrugs, looking at her hands. A few more minutes pass before she glances up at me and then back down again. I assume this is how things will be for the duration I'm here but then Cerise actually says something, shocking me this time.
"Could...could you...tell me about your time in the arena? Like...in detail? I was sort of hoping to hear the whole story. I think it would really be useful to know..." her voice trailed off at the end. She took in my expression, mouth hanging open a bit and eyes slightly widened, and shook her head.
"Nevermind. I'm sorry; I know I shouldn't have asked." Cerise stared down at her hands again, folded neatly in her lap. After a few seconds I managed to compose myself. Clearing my throat I get her attention and she looks at me again. I'm actually smiling a little, it's odd.
"Sure. I'll tell you." I say, and Cerise's eyes light up and she leans forward in her seat clutching the cushion.
Cerise POV
As Katniss tells me all about her time spent in the Hunger Games, I listen intently and try to absorb all I can. Most of the time she's speaking I notice she isn't exactly speaking to me. It's more like she's just remembering out loud. Her eyes are looking in my direction but are focused on some far off point in the distance of her memory. The story she tells me starts from her time on the tribute train all the way until that last moment inside the arena, since this is all I really need to know about.
By the time she's finished speaking I am literally in awe of her and also totally scared out of my mind; more so than even before. To face some of things she did, I doubt in my ability to survive the way she did but this is no way to be thinking. I have to try and remain at least semi-positive if not very determined. Of course, listening to her recount makes me ashamed of how I've been acting. I've been a snivelling little child, crying all night to go home, and this won't help me in the Games at all.
Once she's done speaking, I have no idea what to say. She refocuses on the present and her face is a little paler than before and she looks more tired. I'm biting my lip and looking back at her. Finally I am forcing out the only word that comes to mind, "Wow."
Katniss nods and laughs softly without humour.
"The Games are no picnic. They're going to be gruelling and will test you in every way you can imagine. That's the whole point." She says.
This fact I know. I am all too aware of this little bit of information. But the recent knowledge she has given me, while terrifying me more, also gives me more hope. Knowing all this is certain to help me immensely.
Rising from her chair, Katniss says goodnight and leaves. Only a few hours of sleep and then breakfast, and then at ten it will be time for training to begin.
I'm waking up a few hours later, light pouring in the windows and shining against my eyelids. I sit up and stretch with a yawn before getting out of bed and going into the bathroom. In the shower there is a panel of nothing but buttons with different settings for you shower. Things like water pressure, temperature, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massaging sponges. By the time I actually shut the shower off and get out the amount of steam is amazing. The mirror clears in seconds though and is perfectly clear.
The mat in front of the shower has dried off all the water on my body and now I place my hand on the little box that detangles and dries my hair. I'm a surprised it's able to do it so easily considering how much hair I have, but this is the Capitol and of course there's no problem. Things are so easy for them I wonder how they don't get outrageously bored, and then I remember: they do. That's what the Hunger Games are for, another way for the people of the Capitol to entertain themselves, and also to remind us how much they are able to control us.
I pick out black capri pants and dark red shirt that zips up in the front and has no sleeves and a hood. My hair is just left down. I walk to the dining room and fill a plate with food before taking a seat. Most of the others are there, except Haymitch is absent and the stylists are gone now. So really it's just Effie, Katniss, Peeta, Marcello, and I. Apparently they want to know if we want to be coached together or separately.
I'm thinking about it and for me it doesn't really matter either way. I' don't have any real skills, none which could help me in the arena. But Marcello glances over at me and then says he'd rather be coached separately. This of course intrigues me and I keep my eyes fixed on him for a while. I wonder what it is he can do that he doesn't want me to know about. He could prove to be much more of a threat than I anticipated. I tear my gaze away from Marcello and shrug to the others. If he wants this to be done separately fine. We all begin to eat our breakfast.
Once I've sufficiently stuffed myself, I rise from my chair and head back to my room. Apparently Marcello will be coached first, then me before we have to head done for training. Of course right now I don't really have anything to do. I mean I'm sure I could find something, but I don't know what. My chest begins to ache as my mind wanders back home. Mentally I'm right back in District 12; I can picture it all perfectly. Never thought I'd be desperate to get back to that place.
Thinking about home becomes unbearable and I force myself to think about my fellow tributes instead. An almost equally unpleasant topic, but at least one that won't make me burst into tears. The youngest tribute this year is fourteen, the girl from District 10. She's taller than I am though and seemed frightfully unpleasant when I saw her on the recap of the reapings; kind of scrawny and gangly looking, but also quite angry and conniving. I doubt she's helpless.
I flip through the faces, flinching at the Careers. They think the winning the Games is such an honour. It disgusts me really, the thought that anyone would actually train their children for these Hunger Games and then have them volunteer. It seems the closer your district is to the Capitol the nuttier you are.
I linger momentarily over the boy from District 6, the one who reminds me of Ethan. This really bothers me because I know it'll make it so much harder to have to kill him. Hopefully someone will pick him off before I have to.
There's a knock on my door and then in walks Peeta and Katniss. I guess they're done with Marcello. I sit up from where I flopped onto the bed after breakfast. I could try to be nice or polite or something by saying hello and actually sitting in a normal chair, but for some reason I just don't feel like it. I'm too worried to care right now.
They sit down and just stare at me for a minute until I'm feeling sufficiently uncomfortable. Eventually I get up and sit down on the loveseat and just look awkwardly back at them until one of them finally pipes up. It's basically as blunt as you can get when Peeta suddenly says, "So what can you do?"
Now we get down to it, I need some sort of skill. This is just peachy because I'm pretty sure I don't have one. The only thing I've ever been good at is school; I'm smart. Not bragging or anything, but I'm at the top of my class. Sure it sounds like I'm bragging but really there isn't any sense of pride in this fact. We learn the basics of course, but everything pretty much revolves around coal.
That's great, I know a lot about coal; this info certainly will be just oodles of help on the arena. It's not so much that I'm a genius either; I just like to memorize things. I have a bit of a photographic memory which also tends to come in handy. There isn't much to do in District 12 so I end up spending my spare time learning every single detail of the stuff they teach us at school. Ethan is actually neck in neck with me when it comes to best in the class but that's more because he actually is smart. Teach him something once and he's got it down. Of course practice makes perfect so that's what I do.
With a shrug I shift around in my seat before letting out the awful truth.
"I can't really do anything."
The words have only just left my mouth when Katniss is leaning forward in her chair, and looks like she's about to pounce on my, when she says, "That's crap, you have to be able to do something! Anything at you're good at." She sounds kind of angry to me and this makes my own temper rise up. Is it my fault I don't have any fighting skills or some dumb skill like that? It's not like I need any of that back home. Sure she had to learn to hunt to feed her family, but I didn't and my father doesn't let me go with him!
So I yell all of this back at her, along with the bit about school. It's a I really have to say about it and I expect them to drop and leave, to just let me die in the arena then, but they don't. Katniss leans back in her seat and seems to be trying to calm down while my anger has already subsided. Peeta looks to make sure Katniss has a hold of herself before continuing.
"There has to be something. Trust me, no matter how small, it could end up saving you in there. Maybe we could work with what you told us..." His words trail off at the end and I think maybe he meant to say more but he's lost in thought. Katniss is still just looking at me and once again I'm feeling very uncomfortable. These people have issues with staring.
I close my eyes to try and escape her gaze but I can still feel it. Attempting another distraction I try to think of any skills I might have. The only thing that stands out in my mind is something my mother always tells me; I'm precise. Exact, accurate, specific, whatever word you want to use for it. She always gets me to thread the needle for her. Not because she can't but because I'm better at it. I can thread a needle in one swift motion barely even looking at it. It might now seem like such a complicated thing to do but if you ask a lot of people to do it, they can't; at least not on the first try.
Little things like that. Like when I'm helping her sew something, he stitches are always perfect and identical but then so are mine. My mother has had years and years of practice I just seem to be good at it. Ethan just used to say, "I guess you're really good at sewing?" but that isn't the case either.
Sure I can do the stitches and make then perfect and exact, but I can't actually make an article of clothing. I tried but without something follow I ends up looking like a sac. Albeit a very nice sac, perfectly measured, nice seams, etc, but a sac none the less. Thinking perhaps this could be something useful I explain my little..."skill" to my mentors.
An hour later things seem to be figured out, sort of. Katniss and Peeta have been trying to figure out ways for me to use what little talents I have in the arena. We've learnt I actually have pretty good aim, attributing this to my aptitude for consistency.
Oh course our only test for this has been having me chuck things around the room. Nothing will be known for sure until I get to training in the arena. Peeta thought maybe I could be good archery and this way Katniss could be able to help me improve with that, only problem is I can't properly hold a bow.
Our next solution to that was just to try and have Katniss help me with that too but since we don't have a bow around here it would be sort of hard. They don't want me doing something that involves close range, too much, and I agree. Only things that seem to be left are spears or knife throwing. So I'm going with the latter. It seems closer to what we've been doing up here, and I can get knives up on our floor.
Not much of a plan I'll admit, but at least it's something. All I can think is no wonder they won the Hunger Games, they're pretty good at this; but you could probably just chalk that up to years of experience by now.
By the time I'm in the elevator heading down to start training I'm all nerves. I'm trying to keep myself devoid of emotion, or at least looking like it, but it's a very difficult task. How Ethan does it I'll never know, it seems dreadfully hard; harder than just feeling such emotions instead of masking them. Marcello is oddly calm; at least that's what I think at first. Now I notice his eyes darting all over the place full of worry and they way he keeps fidgeting.
Once we get to the bottom though, I step out of the elevator and focus my attention straight ahead, finding one point and gluing my eyes to it. I'm vaguely aware of someone pinning a little cloth to my back and I realize it's just like everyone else has except mine has a twelve on it. Most of the other tributes just ignore out arrival except a few who glance this way.
One person who does take notice is that boy from district 6, who reminds me of Ethan even though they look barely similar. He's looking right at me and strangest of all has this dumb grin on his face that looks like he's about to wave and then come over, striking up a conversation like we're old friends. I avert my attention. So much for finding a point and focussing on it.
After some initial instructions, we're free to roam around and go to different stations. I'm not exactly sure where to start. Katniss told me her and Peeta went to the knot tying station first. Maybe I could start there as well?
Why not? I think and head over.
A couple minutes later I wish I had started somewhere else; this knot tying is beyond boring. This is partially because it just is boring and partially because I'm pretty good at it. The instructor here is teaching me a few different things. I hope everything is this easy.
Sadly, everything was not as easy as knot tying. I spent half an hour learning how to start a fire; how could it be so hard? Well it wasn't that hard but it was harder than I expected it to be. Then I spent over an hour learning about edible plants. I think I've got everything I learnt memorized though, and the next couple days I'll be going over things multiple times.
Next I was planning on trying out some different weapons and see if I can get the hang of anything, but I couldn't do it. Not couldn't as in I was inept, couldn't as in I just couldn't bring myself to touch any of them. This is bad. Luckily it's lunch now so I can act nonchalant and try again after.
All the tributes eat lunch together in a sort of small cafeteria style room just next to door to where the stations are. It's just like Katniss told me, the Careers slash tributes form Districts 1,2, and 4, seem to have formed an alliance and eat together. Everyone else is scattered about, one person to an entire table practically. Marcello is on the opposite side of the room and this is fine with me, I take a seat right where I am.
Not being so hungry right now, I get this little tiny bowl of some sort of soup and eat a couple rolls. The basket has ones from all the districts but I keep to the District 12 rolls because they remind me of home. A few minutes ago I sort of zoned out again, ripping up the roll in my hand into tiny pieces, when a noise startles me; the sound of someone saying hello.
I lift my gaze and guess who should be seating himself in the chair in front of me; the boy from District 6. Of course with my mind playing tricks on me, at first I see Ethan. Then I do a bit of a double-take and see who it really is. My brain is doing this "wishful thinking" thing I have a tendency for; seeing Ethan everywhere.
I just stare at him, wide eyed and shocked for a moment until he gives me this look showing how incredibly amusing I am to him. That's when it hits me; this is probably all some weird tactic for the Games. I bet he caught me looking at him a few times throughout this morning and thinks he can get some weird advantage out of all this.
"I'm Karan." He says. "District 6."
I close my gaping mouth and wipe the shock off my face, switching to anger and irritation instead.
"Can I help you with something Karan of District 6? You're interrupting my lunch here."
This seems to amuse him even more and now he's fighting off grinning at me again. One thing is for sure, he may be similar to Ethan appearance wise but their personalities are way different. I'm lucky if Ethan can smile at all. Then I realize this isn't entirely true. Karan is mostly smirking at me, a look Ethan used to give me all the time before we started...dating or whatever. The look I used to get from him when he was having oodles of fun irritating me and watching me get right frustrated.
Ugh Ethan and this Karan are nothing alike! I think lack of sleep is frying my brain. I will not think about any of this again!
I start repeating this thought like a mantra in my head. If I had paper with me I'd write it out over and over.
Karan's got his whole lunch with him still and he starts to eat, still just looking at me with the same infuriating look. He seems so arrogant. I have no idea why he has chosen to burden me with his presence instead of someone else.
"So, anything special you can do Cerise?"
I snort and roll my eyes. "Yeah, because I'm going to tell you."
My attitude doesn't faze him. "You seemed to be having a little trouble with the weapons earlier." He says.
Despite myself, I gasp. I hadn't thought anyone noticed. He must notice the shock on my face melt into worry because the teasing look is gone and he tries to reassure me.
"Don't worry, I'm the only one who noticed I swear. I've been paying close attention to you."
Relief washes over me momentarily even though I know there's no way he can be sure no one else noticed. The next second I find myself deeply disturbed by the end of his statement.
"You've been 'paying attention to me'? Why? Do you have any idea how creepy that sounds, Karan?"
"Please," he holds up a hand to me, "call me Kar. It's very irritating for you to keep saying my full name like that."
Now I'm the one smirking at him. "Oh really, Karan? Well I'm sorry about that, Karan. But I'll call you whatever it is I feel like, Karan."
I intend to keep this up to bug him but he grimaces, picks up his lunch, and leaves.
At first I'm quite pleased with myself but I visibly begin to wilt. That was childish of me. Fortunately I quickly recover. He was the one who came over here and started bothering me. Besides, soon we'll be in the arena trying to kill each other so why should I care if I was rude to him? I lay my head down on the table for the remainder of lunch trying to turn my brain off so I don't have to think of anything.