*Disclaimer: The Hunger Games = NOT OWNED BY OKKI! Is that understandable enough, or should I make them a firework show too?

Either way, I don't remember who submitted him (So sorry!), but I love James to pieces! I am so going to enjoy writing this guy ;)

Esmé's a blast and a half to write too! Thank you all very much!

"Dear, I'm going to have to ask you to stay still."

"I don't want you touching me."

Esmé sat on the metal bed that resembled a hospital cot, listening to the pleas and arguing going on between one of the stylists and her District partner, James. She supposed he was alright, under his entire tough exterior, but she wasn't really sure about trying to get under that or not.

"Esmé Belle?"

She hopped lightly of off the bed, portraying all the grace in world, and calmly walked up to the man who called for her.

His skin was a pale green, and he had blue swirls tracing his cheekbones from the corner of his eyes, which were a shocking shade of purple.

"Well, aren't you pretty? We're going to have a lot of fun, my love," He had a typical Capitol accent; boisterous in tone as he over enunciated every word. His green lips quirked into a grin as his eyes roamed over her face, nodding in approval. "Come with Aldrin, doll." He offered her a hand, which she took hold of obligingly.

Aldrin turned in an almost arabesque type of movement with her still in tow close behind him and began down a long, twisting hallway with high black walls decorated with colorful images. Towards the end, he stopped abruptly in front of an automatic door, transparent red in color with little green stars embedded under the surface.

"We will be in here, if you could go have a seat in that chair," he pointed to a red leather armchair in the corner. "I'll be right back. I just have to hunt down my staff. Alright, love?" She only nodded as he tapped her between her shoulder blades three times, as if cueing her to go on in there.

However, she didn't obey entirely, for once she saw him turn, she poked her head out of the doors and watched him race down the rest of the hallway, occasionally stopping at random doors and asking someone about something.

"You're pretty nosy, aren't you?"

Esmé snapped her head to the side, shocked to hear someone speaking to her, until she saw who it was.

James Rolin stood about two feet from the door she was hanging out of, arms crossed and leaning against the wall. His face looked sour, as though he was completely displeased with what was going on.

Figures, since he was complaining the whole time, she thought, retreating back through the door.

James easily covered the distance between himself and the closing doors, holding it open with one hand as he slid in as well, moving his appendage before the door could close with a loud click.

The little blonde stomped her foot dramatically, leaving an imprint in the overly plush neon colored carpet. Her arms unconsciously crossed her chest, and she lifted her chin in mock defiance.

"Hey, whatever, kid. It's not like I care what you do," James remarked, examining his manicured hand with complete distaste.

"I'm not a kid!" Esmé fired back at him, arms uncrossing, little fists furled at her sides. Her blue eyes were like ice, visually sparring with his hardened metal grey ones. "I'll have you know, sir, I am fifteen, soon to be sixteen. Hardly "kid" material, if you ask me." She huffed indignantly.

James couldn't fight the chuckle that escaped him as he shook his head slowly, training his gaze on the floor.

"You're sure a spitfire thing, aren't you?" He asked it more of a question to himself as if he was trying to figure out the young prima-donna standing before him. "Come here." He beckoned her with one long finger, eyes dark and mischievous.

To her, it looked as though this guy was challenging her to fall for something she was nowhere close to being inexperienced with; seduction. She had to give him props though. If he tried this move on some of the weaker at the knees girls, he could potentially make it far in these Games. But with her, he didn't stand a chance. She'd make sure to make him fall to his knees first.

"Actually," she flitted over to the chair that Aldrin had instructed her to be seated in in the first place. "I'm thinking this looks a lot more appealing than you do." She winked quickly, flashing her trademark bright smile before promptly throwing herself into the chair, sighing a little too loud and crossing her legs.

"You definitely belong here," James muttered.

"Why's that?" She leaned over, resting her elbows on her knees and her chin in the palms of her hands, cocking her head to the side.

With a roll of his eyes, James turned the customary stone cold glare back on the girl, all previous fun behavior long forgotten.

"You're just as dramatic as they are. You make a big deal out of everything."

"I do not!" Her arms flew up, failing to back up her side of the argument.

"Hm…whatever."

Both were so absorbed in their latest conflict that they didn't hear the mechanical sliding of the doors opening.

"Baby doll, I'm ba…where did you come from?"

James turned, one swift motion, now face to face with the green man, Aldrin.

"Damn and I thought my stylist was crazy looking," James spoke with utmost control, but his face belied his voice. He looked as though he could burst at the seams from held in laughter.

Aldrin's eyes, which looked more of a shade of blackberry than purple now, widened comically as he spluttered, trying to form a coherent sentence.

"I…why you little…who…"

James held a hand up, silencing Aldrin for a moment.

"Save it. I don't care what you Capitol freaks have to say," with that, he stormed out of the small room, not bothering to say anything else to his District partner.

"I have a feeling he's not about to ally with me," Esmé mumbled, looking down at her pale hands.

Aldrin strode over to her, sliding his minty fingers under her chin, coaxing her head up to look at him.

"You're beautiful, he's brooding and scary and not too nice," he sounded injured, as though James's words had actually physically struck him. "Point is, you'll have no trouble getting an ally with a face like this," He winked at her before holding a pencil thin finger to his lips. "Don't tell anyone what I say to you, though."

"Why?"

"Because they might try and take you away from me. And you're mine!" He laughed and wrapped his slender arms around her shoulder, pushing her forward until she stood to avoid meeting the floor face-first. "Now, how about we start dolling you up?"

"Let's go!" She pointed to the door, holding her dress outwards with her other hand as though she was preparing to curtsey. "Besides, this thing is so out of style."

"Ooh, it'll be like playing dress up with a life size doll!" Aldrin squealed excitedly, hastily moving the tall blonde towards to door with him.

The light caught something shimmery on her skin, and they stopped abruptly. Aldrin spinning her around and gripping her shoulders tightly.

Esmé squirmed slightly under his hold, trying to get him to let up, until he noticed what he was staring at; her neck.

"You like my necklace?"

Aldrin's eyes were wide with admiration.

"It's beautiful. Where did you get it?"

"It's my older sister's. I wanted to keep her close to me," her voice was shockingly somber, a complete three-sixty from her normal dramatized, arrogant way of speaking. But, as quickly as it came on, it was gone in the blink of an eye. ""Your doll awaits you, sir."

Aldrin came to from his almost hypnotized state of euphoria, grinning wildly at the girl before him.

"I'm so glad I'm paired up with you. What do you think about flowers?"

"Love them!"

"Great!" He looped one of his arms through hers and took off in a full sprint down the hallway in the direction she had seen him disappear a while ago.

Once the pair was out of sight, from around the corner, the brooding, temperamental young man stepped out into the middle of the hall, face set with a strict grimace.

"Unbelievable."

"There you are!"

James went wide eyed, refusing to turn and look at the person he cursed with everything in him.

"Oh, look. The circus leader came back," his voice was almost emotionless, but had an undertone of malice in it as his teeth ground together.

"You're so silly, dear. Now, come on, we've got a lot of work to do on you."

"Touch me and we'll see who needs a lot of work done."

The Capitol stylist laughed heartily, snaking their hand along his forearm.

"There you go with that joking again! You'll have to save some of that wit for the interview, babe. You can't get sponsors until the camera is on you."