This took longer to write. I had too many distractions. Anyway, hope you enjoy this.

Chapter 6

She felt eyes boring into her.

And unlike earlier with the Hawthorne kids, these eyes were judging her. She should be use to it, she had been subjected to this kind of stare before.

Only in this instance, she knew she'd been gathering stares not because she's the Mayor's daughter but because she was walking with someone from the Seam. Also, most likely they've heard the rumor about the two of them.

It was one embarrassing moment that breeds like rabbits.

"You're at it again," he said, quietly.

"They were openly staring at us, it's rude."

"They were just watching me walk to my execution," he said, a bit louder this time. She quickly looked around, hoping they didn't hear him. People in town were liable to believe him.

She tugged the sleeve of his shirt, "Don't joke about that!" she hissed, "Don't fuel the fire!"

"The amount of coal dust in this district would do much better in fuelling fires than my supposed joke, Miss Undersee," he shrugged and added, "Still, I feel like you're leading me to something that would involve running for my life."

"I didn't ask you to walk me home."

"No, but my mom insisted," he said, and then snorted, "I mean, you were there, you heard her."

She did.

Hazelle Hawthorne was a force to be reckoned with.

She had laughed but it wasn't because of her. Her son was doing facial expressions she didn't thought he had.

But his mother, she did like her. She let her son make his own mistakes. And she had watched the older woman let him know how disappointed she was, too, when she thought he was cavorting with the Mayor's daughter. But watching her berate her son, somehow, endeared her to Madge.

It was what she imagined mothers were.

Her own wasn't like that. Her mother was delicate and since a little child she learned not to give her more headaches. It was her and her father's secret little mission.

Her father, she had seen him angry at someone. It was not pretty.

"These cat like noises are grating in my nerves," he said, "Could we just walk, in silence?"

Funny he should say that, "I felt like we've been walking for a long time. It's an afternoon full of walking."

"Like a death march or something," he muttered.

"You're right," she sighed, "This does feel like I'm leading you to your doom."

She was just being melodramatic of course. But the look on Gale Hawthorne's face was priceless.

It was suspiciously friendly, the way her father had greeted them. He even acknowledged Gale. And invited him for dinner. The kind of invitation one was not allowed to decline.

While the table was being set, her father led them to his office. Her heart racing with each step closer to the torture chamber. Gale, however, was calm. Or had a great way of hiding his fear. Where was the guy who was worried about his 'execution'?

Her father went straight to the refreshment table. It was put there when the reporters arrived. It was well stocked too. He busied himself in picking from the available snacks and drinks, his back on them.

She stood in the middle of the room while Gale closed the door behind him.

"What now?" she heard Gale whispered. She shrugged, even she doesn't know what her father's thinking at that moment. He's acting different from what she had expected.

"You wouldn't believe the array of sweets our guests brought with them," her father said, still not looking at them, "Even Madge hasn't tasted them before, here have some." He raised a hand, motioning them to move closer. She got there before Gale did, for safety purposes, and act as a shield between the two.

"Here," the Mayor said, finally facing the two teenagers, a candy bar in each hand.

Madge immediately snatched the candy offered to Gale, her father gave her a look of surprise. She looked up at the boy beside her and saw that he was smirking.

"Are we allowed to eat some of these?" asked Gale, his voice neutral.

"Sure, it wasn't forbidden," said the Mayor, nonchalant, "Wild strawberries, however, can be considered illegal."

She felt Gale tensed.

"But you like it," Gale said, casually.

"I do, I love it," he turned back to the table, "But I would advise for you to stick to one of these fancy available candies."

"You don't have to worry, sir. I don't even like strawberries."

"You don't?" she suddenly said, Gale gave her a look, "Right, of course you don't."

"But I trust you in looking out for those strawberries," continued her father, as if she hadn't spoken, "Especially with our guests here."

Gale looked confused for a second, then nodded cautiously, "I will."

She shook her head and muttered, "Men."

"What is it, dear?" her father asked. She looked up, took a deep breath, and said, "It wasn't a… what did they call it? A romantic tryst or rendezvous!"

"What would you call it?" his arms folded across his chest

She glanced at Gale, who just shrugged, and face her father again, "Father, I fell on a cliff, he tried to help, we both have scratches and bruises and before I got hold of a comb, I looked like a hell raiser. So I would call it an accident."

"Then what are you doing in that place?"

"Taking a walk with no particular direction," she said, "I didn't even know that it was the infamous slag heap until this guy told me," she gestured at Gale, "And we were, unfortunately, seen by some of our guests."

He looked at Gale thoughtfully, then nodded, "Okay, you can go and check if the food is ready. I just need to finish some correspondents."

Without another word, she grabbed Gale's arm and began pulling him out of the room.

They were in the kitchen when she let him go and he finally said, "That was surprisingly easy. He even believed in you. Curious on why didn't… um, my mother believe me?"

"Well, I do not have your kind of reputation," she said, "My father hasn't heard a thing about me going off to make out with different boys. Or girls."

"Yeah, no wonder you're friends with Katniss," he muttered, rolling his eyes, "One's lethal, the other's weird but both naïve."

She threw the candy bar she's still holding and hit him on the side of his big head.

"What the hell, Undersee?!"

There was no reply, she was staring, glaring, and scowling at him, all at the same time.

He stared back. But, unlike her, there wasn't annoyance behind it. It was like he's deciding something about her. And when that decision appeared to have been made, he said, "For someone, who seemed to be observant, you have completely missed something," he then leaned closer and in hush whisper, he began to say, "Your father believed you, but he doesn't want us to clear things up."

"Why?"

"I think it's about the guests staying in your house," he said and before he could continue they heard said guests chatting loudly just outside the kitchen. What made them paused, however, and looked at the direction of the door weren't the noise but the words 'Feast' and 'Katniss'.

He stilled and looked at her, alarmed.

The Feast in the Hunger Games was always a double edge sword. Food always lures tributes. Tributes in one place were always meant to be a bloodshed event. Katniss didn't need any food but they've heard another word that could possibly appeal to her.

'Medicine'

She didn't need one.

But Peeta does.

She gulped, "She's going, isn't she?"

His face was serious as he replied, "You can count on it."

"I felt like we've been walking for a long time. It's an afternoon full of walking." - haha, I'm qouting myself but this is what I've been feeling this week. Just change afternoon to week and walking to waiting or writing. :)

Thoughts? Questions? Review?