Hello everyone, apologies for how very long it took to get this up. I won't try and please you with excuses because I don't really have one besides umm... time. Anyways, I am actually pretty busy just in life so unfortunately these chapters will not be coming out quickly or on a schedule. I will keep going but they will take time. I am also leaving in about 1.5 weeks and will be in Africa for 2.5 weeks where there will be no uploads at all. Please don't hate me. School starts for me soon after that so even then it will slow. But I promise to finish I do. Just bear with me and don't get too annoyed. If you read all of this HOORAY here is a little bonus for you. My favorite Hunger Games character is Foxface, I really wish I knew her name.
Today's tributes were submitted by kitkat1425 and CatosGirl23 thanks you two.
Dominica Stiles 16
It is a red dress. It is red because red is strong, and she is strong. And nobody wants to go on the stage looking weak. So she chose red.
Dominica doesn't have to be introduced by waking up. She is almost always up because she has a gift. One where she can function on 3 hours of sleep as good, if not better, than most people on 8. And night is not for sleeping. At least it shouldn't be in her opinion. Her twin brother Dominic's greatest weakness is that he must sleep all night.
Anyways, the dress is red which is why she likes it. Red is her color, powerful, sleek, and deadly. It's the color of blood, fresh and still spilling, or pure flesh that she eats for dinner (though her mother insists on it being cooked.
The clock on the wall reads 2:47 and the little red hand ticking off each second. That's why she likes seconds; she likes to count them in her head, because the little hand is red so seconds are good and powerful and unstoppable like time itself.
The clock is also red though, as are the walls, the sheets (which are barely used) the chest of drawers. She has pictures that are all painted in red ink, of sharks (like the ones she saw in 4) and falcons and something called a lion which was in one of the games long ago. She likes the lion most. It has a lot of hair (all red of course) surrounding its face and is standing on a rock. There is another beast called a Zebra much further away. And the lion stalks it for food.
This is how she thinks of the games. Her as the lion, everyone else is the zebra. She knows that she will be the tribute this year, she knows that she will be the victor, there isn't any other way it could go, she is the second hand (red and powerful) you can't stop her from ticking.
She is currently transfixed by a mouse in the corner. This usually wouldn't interest her because she would usually kill a mouse. But this is a special mouse. It is not particularly special in shape or size, and it is nibbling on some crumb left on her floor, that is not either.
No, the mouse is special because it has white fur and red eyes. That is why the mouse is not dead. Her concentration only breaks after it turns away and she can't see the eyes anymore.
She gets up from the bed so quietly that the mouse doesn't even notice. Her feet make no sound as she pads delicately across the floor in her dress. She couldn't wait to put it on, it was too good to let wait till the morning. The skirt rustles in the silence while she makes her way to the door.
Catching a glimpse of herself in the dark mirror. Muscular, tall, with long dirty blond hair which she loathes and keeps it up so she can't see as much and the scar on her chin where she cut herself with a knife, trying to see what her own blood looked like. She has since done it many other times, though never in self-loathing. She does not cut herself out of pain, she cuts herself because she likes blood, and sometimes it is too much trouble to get into a fight. Taking the flashlight from its place on the dresser she leaves.
She is in the hallway now, down the stairs, into the atrium where a vase of flowers sits on a table by the door. The flowers are pink. It makes her angry she hates pink. Grabbing the vase off of the table she shakes the flowers out spattering water and petals across the granite floors.
Dominica walks over it in bare feet, feeling the water on her toes and smooshing one of the flowers into the floor. Then she is at the double doors great big mahogany with plenty of metal for decoration. Opening them quietly takes strength and skill, both of which she has from hundreds of nights of sneaking out.
It takes a lot of maneuvering, pushing a bolt so slowly that most wouldn't know it was moving. Finally the door is open, her feet touch the cold marble porch (made by the expert masons of their district), and she moves into the yard, out of the front gate (which doesn't take nearly as much time) and into the street, the circle of houses in the Victor's Village where they live due to her father's victory some 30 or more years ago.
She follows the cobblestone pathway down the street, stepping across the circles of light from the lightposts above, making her way to her favorite place, the one place where she isn't in constant danger of exploding. That is the forest, just up ahead a small dirt path off the road which she follows, switching on the flashlight (though only temporarily) waving it around and seeing the animals scatter at the light.
She walks deeper into the forest, bare feet hitting rocks and twigs, but the ground is damp underfoot and soft. The dress flows around her, snagging on branches which she carefully untangles from it careful not to rip the soft fabric. After about half a mile she reaches a massive boulder, one she is very familiar with. She turns right and next to it running her hand across the smooth surface and finding her carving in the side.
"Blood for victory" she scratched it into the surface 6 years ago when she was 10. the day she decided that she would one day be the victor.
Now she is here, so many years later, crouching near the north side of the boulder, reaching under, pulling from underneath a spear. The light has still not touched the sky.
In the pitch dark, split only by the beam of her flashlight, Dominica walks down the side of the hill, into a small valley where a clearing is. Then she switches off the light and waits until her eyes adjust. The waning gibbous moon, her only source of light, not much but enough for her.
This has been the routine for years, as she trains herself to kill at night. Each tree on the edge of the clearing (and some further in) are marked with a carved X. Some she slashed in with a dagger, others were drawn on with animal blood. She has been practicing hunting too.
The spear is in her hand as she walked to the middle of the clearing, a spot she had stood on so many times, that the grass had stopped growing back all together. She takes aim at the closest tree closes her eyes...
The faceless boy is only 50 feet away, he has his back turned in the darkness, she pulls the spear back ready to release and with a hefty throw buries itself deep into his back. The boy falls, dead on the spot, his blood welling at the point of impact. She retrieves the shaft quickly. The others have taken notice are running away, she throws it at one clear across the field, a good 100 ft or more, brings her down with a shot to the head, before running to collect the spear once more.
Hours later, all the foes are dead and dead again and again. The bodies litter the ground, blood still flowing from some, sweet red blood she can smell the victory. This is what it smells of, blood, sweat, dirt.
She opens her eyes.
The sun is peeking up at the horizon, pinkish yellowish tendrils seeping into the air. She grabs the spear a last time and hides it under the rock again.
She won't be back here for more than a month (though she will return of course) but old habits die hard. She races along, fast as she can the undergrowth whipping her bare feet, stinging the skin, though she hardly takes notice. She is out of the path again Onto the street into her yard up the grass and into the house through the crack she left in the door. The massive clock reads 5:50, and she runs up the carpeted stairs to her room stripping down her red dress and putting on pajamas then jumps into bed. Ten minutes later her mother, Drusilla, enters and shakes her "awake."
"The reaping starts in 6 hours Dominica." she says taking the dress off of its hanger "You must start getting read- WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO YOUR DRESS!"
Dominica sits up acting tired and looks at the dress as if not knowing. There are rears in the skirt from running through the woods and dirt and leaves as well. She curses herself for not cleaning it up more.
"I don't know mother." she lies "Maybe Dominic is just playing one of his jokes again."
"You went outside again last night didn't you?" she accuses. "Don't lie to me Dominica"
"Yeah mother I did." she admits, her mother is one of the only people that can catch her lying "So what? I was only training."
"In your dress?" she sounds exacerbated 'The nice new one we bought you too"
"What does it matter Mother?" Dominica replies, feeling pretty annoyed herself "It's not like we're going to run out of money!" They won't it's true, not in the house of a victor.
"But you will go on stage looking like a mess, like someone much lower. Think of what dishonor that will bring."
"It will be made up tenfold when I win, MOTHER" her voice is venom.
"And you can't win without sponsors. And what will their first impression be? You a dirty peasant girl" she spits. If anyone wondered where the attitude came from, it was pretty clear. Her father was comparatively mild mannered, even as a victor. Which becomes pretty clear when he is next to his wife.
Dominica has had enough and it becomes almost necessity for her to leave, even just n mind. She can see the red tinting the corners of her eyes, and she stoops down in the space between her bed and the wall and rolls herself into a ball, blocking her ears and humming a tune, she doesn't know where it came from
"The itsy bitsy spider" she sings softly "went up the waterspout" her vision is getting dimmer "Down came the rain." darker and darker "And washed," Done.
The light is up when she comes out of her stupor. It must have been many hours as the sun is quite high. She is tentative in moving, her limbs stiff from her squeezed position and also knowing that her mother's wrath would be upon her if she is found now. She can hear the rumble in her stomach and weighs the benefits and potential risks of getting food now, eventually settling that she will eat on the train after becoming tribute. Anyways, she has to meet Cornelia outside of the Justice Building. It was a promise.
She takes off down the stairs and out of the house. Or that is the plan at least because her brother Dominic is in the way. A tussle ensues as per usual, friendly of course because, as much as Dominica likes to chew out her brother (and she does, a lot), he is her twin and she is certainly closer with him than most people.
The line is long when she reaches the courtyard snaking past the nearby shops down nearly a block. Even though there is still a good 45 minutes till the ceremony. She spots Cornelia's bright red hair from a distance away and slips in next to her (the hair was what made them friends in the first place, and after that it was mostly a mutual bond of not being very good socializers and then eventually it became very close to a friendship). The boy behind them shouts some vulgarities at her but she just turns to glare at him. Even though he is probably 18, he immediately shuts up.
Cornelia smiles a greeting (because there is no way that the two are going to hug.) "I guess this is the last time I get to see you for a while?" she says. She is 15 so they won't be together in the square. "Think of me in the arena okay?" she says. And Dominica promise tom and intends to keep it. Then the redhead begins to talk. That is mostly what Cornelia does and Dominica listens. This is how it goes, because Cornelia knows how little the other girl likes to talk.
She discusses (through a rather one-sided debate) whether she should try to volunteer next year. And Dominica laughs inwardly at the thought. She tries so hard to train and be a gppd fighter. But she's never had the spirit, or the nerve.
The line snakes forward, the two get in line Dominica stares as the ID prick hits her skin and watches the blood well up at the tiny hole. Transfixed at the glistening dot that grows in her hand before Cornelia pats her on the shoulder and says goodbye as they are herded into the separate lines.
There is a shove from behind her. She turns, and realizes instantly that the line will be anything but peaceful. Flavia is the last girl she wants to see. Her hair is red like Cornelia's (though cornelia is closer to ginger than Flavia) and this sprouts loads of jealousy already, apart from that, they are both strong, quick, hot-headed, and skilled. In other words, the perfect tributes. Some said that they could be best friends, Dominica punches some people very hard in the stomach.
"You planning on volunteering eh little Domi?" Flavia asks sounding sickeningly condescending.
'indeed dear Flavia." she tries her best to sound like Flavia is nothing more than a bothersome child.
"Oh dear, well there's a problem there." the redhead continues "Because I am too you see, and I think I" she attempts to shove Dominica (and fails) ending up merely sidestepping her "Am closer to the stage."
"That matters not." she replies, "I could beat you, and anybody else, to the stage from the back of the stage."
"Then why don't you?" Flavia taunts.
"Because I am not stupid, dearest," she says and turns away "I will leave these games the victor and you will not mess that up"
The male escort reaches the stage and tests the microphone, the line of past tributes fills two lines on the stage. Districts 1 and 4 may be careers, but district 2 is the home of true champions.
A long boring speech about pride and honor. Dominica has heard is so many times from her father she can mouth it along with the woman (So two tributes will be found in our District, and they alone will use all of their wits and skills to win, for the honor of their families, and their homes), it replaced the bedtime stories in the household, it was the motivation for the twins to train so hard, and fight, for them to compete. Of course, she always won, but her brother made competition, and never let up.
The speech continues differently now...
"And this year our two tributes will have a chance to return home, DUAL-VICTORS."
She doesn't really care about it. She is going to win no matter what, be it with someone else or not. She isn't going to make herself responsible for anyone else just because of some dumb rule.
Then it is finally time, "Now, ladies and gentlemen, let us find out this years TRIBUTES" says the man on stage, his hand dips into the girls bowl, swirls around a bit dips in.
"Hattie Marks!" she shouts.
Barely have the words left her mouth when Dominica is off, not bothering to yell out with the "I volunteer, because no one is checking. She sprints faster than she ever has, her black flat shoes hitting the ground, one of them falling off, strands of hair come undone from her ponytail, she is ahead almost to the stage.
A redhead is next to her. Easily recognizable, faster than her. Flavia gives her a smile and sprints ahead.
With a leap Dominica is on top of her, pinning her to the ground. The crunch is loud when she hits the concrete. But Dominica is back up, rushing forward another, younger, girl caught up. But as fist connects with face, she falls too.
It is over, she scrambles onto the stage. The man holds the microphone under her chin.
"And what is your name young lady?"
"Dominica Stiles" she is breathless from the fight.
"Lost a shoe there didn't you?" he jokes. She glares at him, easily 35 (though with all the capitol surgery she can't be sure) and he looks, frightened and turns away yelling hastily "Dominica Stiles your FEMALE TRIBUTE!"
The crowd cheers for her, she glances over, the young girl that she punched is being led away by her parents. Same with Flavia. She feels no remorse they were in her way after all, this was her prize.
Her eyes continue to search the crowd. Finding her twin amidst the other 16 year old boys. He makes eye contact with her. He is planning to volunteer too, they've both been planning for a while. But the rule change this year is good in only one respect (for her at least) in that she and her brother could both come home.
The male escort (his name is Lorcan she remembers now) plucks the second name from the boys bin.
"Glorean Borenova!" he calls, as more shouts rain in. Dominica's eyes are on her brother, who runs, sprints out of the crowd to the stage. He fights his way there and in fact, makes it nearly to the stage before a tussle breaks out and he gets caught in it. She is so focused on him that it takes her a few seconds to realize that a boy has joined her on stage.
She is highly pissed off that her brother is not in his place.
"And your name son?" Lorcan escort asks.
"Logan Huntzberger." the boy replies, breathless like she was.
"Shit," she thinks "I know him." He is sixteen also, her class, and his father won the Hunger Games too. Two years after hers, they live in the Victor's Village together. They even used to be friends (when Dominica was still too young to feel hate which was a very long time ago)
"And these," the escort yells "Are your district 2 TRIBUTES!" more screaming as they are led off.
Once in the Justice building they are broken off, without even a chance to greet one another (not that it really matters) and she is put in the ante-chamber to the right. A peacekeeper (one of her dad's friends in fact) smiles at her as they wait. A few minutes later her family enters. Her mother pats her on the head, which is as close as they come to real intimate contact, her father leans in and actually hugs her, which is awkward though he seems oblivious.
"We're so proud of you," he tells her smiling his huge grin "We will have another victor on the family tree."
He puts something into her hands which she examines. A small leather bracelet. Smaller than his wrist now, old and worn, it had been his token in the games. She hadn't even thought of a token.
"Now you can't lose." he encourages. She smiles for his benefit then turns to her brother who has stayed in the far corner thus far.
"You gonna miss me?" she asks loudly. He just sulks, obviously annoyed at the attention she's getting as well as her being a tribute and not him.
"I suppose," he says quietly and gives her a half-hearted arm hug.
"Damn it Dominic," she says, annoyed "I won't be seeing you for another almost 2 months and that is all you give me." she is very annoyed now, angry even, red around her eyes. He tries to hug her but she pushes him off. "Too late now dumb-ass." she pushes through her family to the door. The peacekeeper stops her. "Damn it, I'm going to the train not trying to escape." he lets her pass.
The train is in sight. She heads to the opening but is intercepted by Logan, her teammate.
"Hello again Dominica," he says confidently "We haven't talked in..."
She shoves him aside.
"Fuck off." she says quietly, boarding the train, clutching the woven bracelet and waiting to leave. Suddenly all too eager, to start these bloody games.
Logan Huntzberger 16
"Now which one is Greernook?" Logan Huntzberger's father asks.
A dozen or so plants are laid out in front of him all in varying shades of green and brown. This is so uninteresting in his opinion. They are god damn plants, nobody needs to know this much about plants.
Except that his father definitely thinks so. He stares at Logan expectantly.
"Okay" he thinks "Greernook..." he attempts to recall everything he knows about greernook. Which is nothing. He subconsciously runs a hand through his blond hair.
"I don't know dad." he replies, slightly annoyed.
"Yes you do." his father counters, "We've gone over this for months, how can you still not know? Choose one come on, you know this."
I hate the god damn plants dad, that's all. He thinks about it. Greernook, he definitely recognizes it, but he has no idea what it looks like, or what it does. He's pretty sure that it has round leaves, and maybe a flower. He chooses one of the 3 that look like that.
"Boy NO!" his dad shouts picking up a thin leaved flowerless stem. "This is Greermook. Now can you at least tell me what it does?"
"Does it," he racks his head again, runs his fingers through the light hair once more "Help cure snakebite?" he asks.
"Dammit boy no," his father is no longer yelling just annoyed "It helps fight infection on a deep wound. We've talked about this."
This is hopeless, Logan knows that too, he will never learn the plants, they've been studying for months and the most he can do is identify nightlock, but he didn't learn that from his father. 5 years ago a District 12 pair made it to the end and both tried to commit suicide. They both ended up winning. Everyone was so happy that both of the lovers made it back, the nightlock bush was now almost synonymous with love. Romeo and Juliet style (whoever those people were)
"Dad, this isn't doing any good. Anyways I'm just gonna kill everyone and get out of there." he jokes "Besides my teammate of course," he adds before his father can correct him.
10 years ago, his father had been in the same position. A 16 year old training with his father for the games. The young Michum Huntzberger was the second in the family to win the games (the first had been his great-great-great grandmother Naomi. He had studied all that he could and trained for hours everyday. In the end it was just him and a boy from 4 who hadn't eaten in over a day. His father, resourceful and smart, had found some edible roots and overtook the other boy.
This is the greatly abridged version of the story that 16 year old Logan had heard every single day of his life. As he trained to do the same.
But this is useless, he is not going to learn about all of the plants, anyways the reaping is in a little over two hours and instead of hanging out with his three best friends before leaving, he is stuck with his dear old dad studying everything he is hopeless at.
His complaints won't matter anyways, his father is dead-set on raising another winner. His older sister, Honor, is now 19 and therefore ineligible. So he has been getting all the attention, and all of this of course. To be honest, he would probably be going out for the Hunger Games father or not, but his old pop has been drilling him like crazy, it's gotten quite annoying and their, already constant, fighting has escalated to dizzying new heights.
But he's too tired right now to even fight about it. He was up all of the night before with his friends Finn, Roger and Colin and got shaken before dawn by you-know-who to practice with a sword. Which was ridiculous because that was where he was sure he'd never have trouble. But father insisted, so it had to be so.
"Father." he says, "There is no way I'm gonna remember all of this. We don't even have much time, can I please just go and enjoy it with my friends."
His father looks disappointed, a face that is so familiar that there Logan doesn't even feel bad anymore. HIs father is always disappointed. about his sparring, aim, and his failure with plants.
"Son, you are going into these games, what would it be if you were to get in there and die in a silly mistake. how much shame that would bring on all of us."
That was something he shouldn't have said. Anger wells up, sadness to, that perhaps all his father wants with him is a winner, maybe he has never been a son. But the anger is foremost and takes control. He flips the tray of specimen plants up, it soars through the air and hits the table again the stems flying around and into their faces, berries hitting the ground with little clicks and a large seed pod (from some plant he cannot name) splitting on the tile floor sending its cargo across the floor.
He stands up abruptly and runs out of the dining room. Through the side door and out into the yard which is covered in trees. He runs past them out of the side gate into the street, checking his watch. 10:02 he really should be getting down there to check in and get a good spot, no use taking chances.
In all honesty Logan wants nothing more than to be in the Hunger Games. Killing people doesn't scare him, the arenas don't scare him, very little scares him, the games may very well be fun, a simple challenge which he desperately wants. District is so boring, no good riots or anything.
The problem is that he wants to win the games his way, not his father's old way. Besides, plants are stupid, swords are fun.
He is suddenly aware of a person next to him. He glances up at his sister, Honor, who appeared quiet as ever.
"What's with the red face?" she asks.
"I um." he begins "I flipped the plant tray because dad was annoying me."
She starts to laugh "You did not?"
"I did." he responds. They begin to walk to the square. Logan has always been friends with Honor. There was no real need for sibling rivalry since it was pretty clear from the get go that she was not going to want to go into the Hunger Games. Dad still insisted though and she tried to make him happy but never wanted to.
They were similar looking. Medium framed pretty tall, large round blue eyes. But her hair was dark brown with some red.
"So, this is gonna be your last day," she says, it's not a question. At the same time as she had decided that the games were not for her Logan had been moving opposite. It was pretty clear that he was at his peak, he was ready, he would be the tribute and he wa pretty sure that he'd be victor too.
"Yeah, I won't be back for a while so, I guess I have to say goodbye to you now," he is very sad about this. He loves his sister, she is the best, they complain about dad together, she likes his friends and vice versa, but she is just subdued enough to calm him down if he gets angry.
They are in town, right next to the bakery.
"You wanna pick something out?" Honor asks, "I brought money."
"Yes I would." Logan says, they walk into the bakery, he has a crumbly scone with blueberries (One of the other, few plants he knows, and she picks a muffin. She pays and sits down, the baker at the counter smiles at them, as the offspring of a victor they are recognized everywhere.
"What are you going to miss most?" she asks once they've started eating, Logan is ravenous having had no breakfast that morning.
"I guess," he thinks about it 'You really, and my friends." she smiles.
"Are you just sucking up cause I bought you a scone?" she asks laughing.
"No I mean it, I'm going to miss you a lot,"
"Good thing it's only a month," she says. She's always believed so hard in him, she really thinks he can win, and it's that which will make him.
They eat the pastries in silence until he spots the line start to grow across the street and stuffs the rest of his in his mouth.
"I gotta go," he stands quickly "see you in the justice building." she gets up to give him a hug.
"Run fast," she says before he runs from the bakery into line.
Being one of the first he finds a good place near the front, then it's just waiting for over an hour. Colin joins him soon enough and then Finn. Unlike Honor they aren't asking him questions about being tribute, they just joke around for a while until their are for 16 year olds is packed.
Finally Lorcan, the escort, gets on stage and stands at the microphone. He is not quite as weird looking as the other Capital folk, but his hair has been shaped into intricate patterns on his head.
"Hello ladies and gentlemen. Today we begin the process to victory in the 79th annual Hunger Games." he starts "79 years ago there was an awful uprising." then goes the brief history of the Hunger Games "There is much pride in winning." now Logan is hanging onto every word, yes pride and glory, coming home to winning, fame fortune, his father's respect. He starts to daydream he and one other tribute standing, he heroically kills the last returns home, celebration, girls falling at his feet happiness.
He breaks out of the daze when the escort anounces. "And this year our two tributes will have a chance to return home, DUAL-VICTORS."
"True" he thinks, maybe he'd return with someone else, dual victory he likes the idea maybe they would get together in the end. Who knows?
He is choosing the girl now, Finding the name of some random girl he doesn't know before a crowd runs up. One girl is in the lead though he doesn't recognize her, she punches two other girls but makes it up as the volunteer with only one shoe on and a ripped red dress.
"And what is your name young lady?" Lorcan asks.
"Dominica Stiles" she responds. It hits him, the same Dominica who lives in the Victor's Village, they have the same classes and used to be friends, that is, before she pulled a crazy and went red. He is scared of her, but maybe that's good, she's strong and skilled and might be the best teammate he could ask for.
"Lost a shoe there didn't you?" the escort tries to joke. But he looks nervous for some reason and continues "Dominica Stiles your FEMALE TRIBUTE!"
More cheering. Lorcan goes to the boys bin, and Logan is ready to run right out the side into the aisle and up the the stairs. The man's hand seems to take forever, choosing a note unfolding it and shouting."Glorean Borenova!"
"I volunteer," his voice responds and he's off, down the aisle as fast as he can already there are others in front another boy outstrips him from behind, then someone just ahead falls or hits another and they go down, the boy who just passed him trips on the pile but Logan takes a huge leap and clears them, passes some younger kid and makes it to the stage tired and breathless.
"And your name son?" the escort asks without giving him a chance to catch his breath.
"Logan Huntzberger." he tries to sound steady but it comes out weak.
"And these," the escort yells "Are your district 2 TRIBUTES!" and they are cheered off stage.
Two peacekeepers wait and one leads him to another room where he waits for his family. They enter Mother, sister, and Father. He goes to his mother first hugs her (he is taller than her)
"Good luck darling." she says and kisses him on the cheek.
Next is his sister and they are both a little emotional at this she has a few tears in her eyes and he can feel them too though he fights them back. They don't exchange words either, they are unnecessary.
Finally it's his father. No hugs there.
"Son, you use everything I taught you," his voice is strained, like he is trying very hard to keep it civil. "You can win this if you just stop and think, don't be reckless and be good to your ally." It's true that he needs to think, but he's also very good at this, he could win easily.
There is a silent treaty, they will not leave this place angry. The peacekeeper returns a moment later and he goes with a final look at the family.
He sees the train and a very annoyed Dominica running towards it, "Allies" he thinks "I should make a good first impression."
He cuts her off in front of the train, trying to look as confident and calm as possible.
"Hello again Dominica," he reaches out his hand for a shake. "We haven't talked in..."
She shoves him away and he stumbles backwards and nearly falls. "Fuck off." she can hear her say.
This should be fun, he thinks and wonders, how he can possibly be allies with that girl? I suppose I'll find out, I just wish these games would start sooner.