His heart does not beat faster as he watches the screen before him. His eyes do not flicker up to the corner, where the countdown is projected. His hands do not clutch the armrest as he waits for the gong. Why would one flinch if not threatened? Instead, he calmly studies the arena. He has seen it before, of course; nothing of any importance in Panem escapes his attention. Anyone who has lived for very long after gaining their first taste of power knows that.
"Zoom in on her face," he says. His voice is soft, but none would dare disobey. The girl squints in the bright light of the arena, panting as she stood on the pedestal, surrounded by seawater. Water, perfect for putting out a girl on fire. He smiles at her confusion, her pain, her bewilderment. Her loss. Absolutely delightful.
And it will be her loss - Heavensbee has promised as much. He reaches for the glass of wine that sits next to him, raising it in a toast. "It was a lovely dream, Miss Everdeen."
With one sip, his white wine turns red.
.oOo.
A/N: Chapter 3's character is Atala.