Day Four: Broken Heater BECAUSE OF Snow

NOT a continuation of Days Two/Three. Sorry, I AM the worst. I'm also writing this drunk with absolutely no direction/inspiration, so we'll see how this goes.

When the power went out and the heater was broken, it seemed like people reverted back into their junior high selves, so basically savages. Thom and Bristel versus Finnick and Jo were playing beer pong of all things, in the basement; Delly was dancing and singing to Taylor Swift all by herself in the corner, with Annie cheering her on; and Katniss and Peeta were making out like it was the eighth grade and they were playing Seven Minutes in Heaven.

"All I wanted," Madge was saying, disbelief evident in the faintness of her voice, "was a nice evening in. Catching up. Seeing how everyone was doing. Maybe some hot toddies? A little bit of Netflix. Mild intoxication. Mild. Instead… anarchy. Total anarchy. And I can't feel my toes anymore."

Well, she wasn't wrong. Gale definitely didn't picture his New Year's Eve at Madge Undersee's parents' cabin to be like this. He didn't know what he'd pictured, really, but it involved a functioning hot tub; functioning heat and some relaxation.

"I'm freezing," he admitted. "I'm not gonna lie, I was really looking forward to that hot tub." It was too cold for the hot tub to work properly. And the heat was broken, but, miraculously, due to some great (sober) planning, the pipes hadn't froze and they still got hot and cold water.

"You and me both," Madge admitted. She was drinking red wine like it was going out of style. "I mean, have you seen Thom without his shirt on? It basically was going to be like a late Christmas present."

Despite himself, Gale couldn't help be offended. "Thom?" He demanded. (Ok, maybe he was drinking prosecco like it was going out of style. Fuck off, he had developed a taste for it when he studied abroad in Rome his junior year of college, okay?) "You think Thom's body is like a late Christmas present?"

"Why?" Madge smirked into her drink. "You don't?"

"It's like, fine," Gale scoffed, his eyes fixated on her lips, "but mine's better."

Madge raised her eyebrows, amused. "You're sure confident."

"Not confident," he assured her, "this is just fact."

"Oh, yeah?" Madge goaded. "Prove it."

"Not here," Gale said, "it's too damn cold."

"The hot water is working and the bathroom upstairs is small enough," Madge mused. "What if I made a makeshift sauna for you? Would that be good enough?"

"Wouldn't that risk not everyone else having enough hot water?" Gale asked.

Madge shrugged. "Are you saying your bod isn't worth the risk?"

Gale thought for a moment before downing the rest of his drink. "True," he said. "Plus, they can just use, like, body heat for warmth."

"Oh, totally," Madge said solemnly as she followed him upstairs. "Good call."

As it turned out, Madge had to agree that Gale's torso, arms, and overall distribution of facial and body hair did make his body better than Thom's. But that required a lot of intensive, time-consuming research, both in the bathroom and out. Not that either of them minded.

Happy New Year, indeed.