Although he looked ill, Rico managed to take a seat in front of the television along with everyone else. Kal couldn't manage it. They lurked on the threshold between the living room and dining room, as though there was an invisible barrier. Nezumi glanced back at them from time to time while the announcers prepped the audience with bad jokes. Kal didn't notice him watching; their eyes were fixed on the television.
The announcers prattled on about useless fluff for another few minutes and then finally beamed at the screen and started the scoring. One by one the tributes' faces appeared with their scores beneath. The Careers gained high numbers, to no one's surprise, and Districts 3, 4, and 5 received middling scores of fives and sixes. Nezumi narrowed his eyes as the male and female tributes from District 6 received a pair of sevens. He had a sense about them during the parade, but this confirmation didn't make him feel very good.
Rico swallowed audibly as his picture appeared onscreen. He had curled himself into a knot in his armchair, and when he saw the four appear beneath his name, he doubled over and buried his face between his legs. Nezumi fisted his hands in his lap, but he kept his gaze on the screen as Kal's picture came up.
Five.
Nezumi felt a part of him sputter. He had unwittingly kindled a hope for Rico and Kal's scores, but that hope died the same moment he realized its existence. Nezumi twisted around in his chair. Kal's eyes shone, but their mouth was warped into the most hateful sneer he had ever seen.
Nezumi caught a wisp of white in the room behind Kal. Shion hovered just outside the kitchen door, apparently sneaking a viewing. The look on his face reflected how Nezumi felt inside. He cast a pitying look at Kal and ducked back into the kitchens, without noticing Nezumi's gaze.
The rest of the scores went by without any more surprises. The girl from 10, who Nezumi had previously picked out as a possible threat, received a six, which was decent, although not an overwhelming upset. But then again it could be a strategy. Scores were not always a reliable predictor of success; some tributes were willing to trade early sponsor interest for the element of surprise later.
The program ended. The room was quiet, save for the sound of Gregor nibbling on the edge of his thumbnail. The escort dropped his hand the moment he realized the habit was starkly audible.
"Yes, well." Gregor cleared his throat. "Scoring is… not everything. The interviews are much more important." He smiled as he shakily regained his momentum. "Yes, the interviews. Who cares about the scores. Your stylists will make you look fabulous, and your mentors will teach you how to be loveable, and then the sponsors will flock to you. Have faith!" He clapped his hands once and shot to his feet. "I'll have the kitchen make you some snacks."
Gregor darted from the room, brushing by Kal who still had not moved or said anything. They still wore the sneer, and Rico was still curled into a ball of shame and misery in the armchair next to Nezumi.
Nezumi sighed and stood. "Gran, Rou, take care of Rico. I've got Kal."
His fellow mentors perked up, and Nezumi did his best to act nonchalant. His announcement woke Kal from their feral stupor. They watched his movements with the rigidity of a cornered animal, but Nezumi walked around the couch and turned in the opposite direction from them without a glance.
"Come along, Kal, if you want help with your interview," he called once he entered the hallway. He snuck a look back after a few more paces and was satisfied to see Kal following with a begrudging expression.
He walked past the bedrooms and decided to settle in the sunroom at the back of the floor. He took the farthest chair and surveyed Kal. Rain pecked at the windowpanes, providing a gentle background to the relative silence in the room. Kal crouched in the chair across from him. They looked like they wanted to be mad, but it just read as queasy.
Nezumi crossed his legs and lazed back into the cushions. "So. A five." Kal's face soured, but Nezumi held up a hand. "That's not a death sentence, Kal. Gran and Rou wanted me to score a five last year."
"Yeah, but you scored a seven."
Nezumi shrugged. "Doesn't matter. Scores don't mean everything. If we find the right persona for your interview, we can keep them guessing. What kind of strategy do you want to try?"
Kal wrapped their arms around their knees and looked away. "I don't know," they mumbled. "Whatever you think."
"Flirty?"
Kal's head snapped forward so fast it cracked.
Nezumi smirked. "I'm kidding."
"Not funny," Kal growled.
He studied Kal. Their hair had been cut and groomed so that it fell in glossy waves just past their shoulders. They looked much better without the matted mess they sported in 7, and now that the dirt had been scrubbed off, he saw that their tan skin was actually in fair condition.
The androgyny might work in Kal's favor…
Looks didn't matter much unless you fell to either extreme, though. The deciding factor was your presentation: your outfit, your answers, and your personality. Your fake personality, in most cases.
Nezumi tilted his head. "You could probably pull off shy, but that's forgettable… Try being cocky. You've got a mouth on you, so you might make a believable performance."
"Cocky?" Kal gnawed their lip.
"I'll ask you questions and you give me your best attempt at cockiness. Ready? So, Kal, Nezumi Singer surprised us all with his win last year—do you think you have what it takes to follow in his footsteps?"
Kal narrowed their eyes. "You would make this about yourself."
"Stop deflecting and answer the question."
"Uh…" Kal wriggled in their seat.
"Arrogant, Kal."
"Y-yes. Yes, I have what it takes."
"That was awful. I said arrogant not arid. Try again. What do you think of your competition this year?"
"They suck."
Nezumi's brow creased. "…Betterish. Moving on. You scored a five, but you think your competition sucks? Do you have a secret we don't know about?"
Kal clamped their mouth shut.
"Well?"
"…No."
"Kal."
"I don't know. I can't think of anything."
"Make something up. Come on, it's not that hard."
"Maybe for you!" Kal threw their arms up. "I'm not good at stuff like this, okay? I don't… I can't talk like you do! I just can't!"
Nezumi scowled. "I thought you wanted my help. We've barely even started and you're giving up?"
"No, I just…"
"What?"
"I just don't see the point." Kal clenched their hands. "It's like you said, I got a five. You say it's not the worst thing, but when was the last time someone with a five won, huh?" Kal glared at him, but lost their courage in the face of the answer and turned toward the wall. "What's the point?"
"The point is to stay alive."
"I know," Kal groaned. They ducked their head and fisted their hands in their hair. "But I'm not smart, and I'm not strong, so…" Kal's voice wobbled and trailed off.
Nezumi shifted in his chair. The all too familiar weight settled in his chest. He was becoming accustomed to this pressure; it used to terrify and confuse him, but now he faced its surfacing with resignation.
"I don't want to die," Kal said in a small voice.
The pressure in Nezumi's chest grew to a chasm. He knew exactly how Kal felt. He could see shadows of himself in their fear, and Kal's words echoed the thoughts that dogged him throughout his Games. But these were thoughts and fears that could only be admitted in silence, or in the company of trusted individuals. If he allowed Kal to be eaten up with self-doubt now, the battle was over before it began.
"You're being ridiculous. At this rate, you will die. And it will be all your fault."
Kal lifted their head. Their eyes were wet with tears they were barely holding back, but the look on their face was pure hatred.
"Why are you such an asshole!" They snatched an ornamental piece of glassware from the table and chucked it at Nezumi.
Nezumi dodged it, and it exploded on the floor behind his chair. Nezumi shook his head at them, which made Kal angrier.
"You think you're so much better than everyone else, but you're a fucking joke!" They grabbed another piece of glassware, a smaller piece, but they wielded it over their head like a deadly weapon. "So you won your stupid Game! Big deal! It doesn't matter, because I'm going to kill you now!"
"Good." Nezumi said with a smile.
Kal froze mid-throw and blinked at him. "What?"
"That's your angle, Kal. Your I-don't-give-a-shit-and-I-don't-take-it-either attitude. Use that when you're interviewing. When you're talking to Verde, just pretend you're talking to me—but edit out the curse words. Gregor's correct; the Capitol is squeamish."
Kal continued to stare at him like they expected a trick, but after a few minutes of silence, Kal lowered their arm and placed the piece of glass in their lap. "So…" They frowned. "You mean… just be myself."
"Yeah, sure. But your angry self, not the one that was throwing a pity party a second ago."
"I can still throw this at you," Kal warned, nodding at the glass. "I missed on purpose last time."
Nezumi smirked. "You're already doing better." He leaned forward in his chair. "Now, tell me, Kal, what do you think of the Capitol?" Nezumi said in a perfect imitation of Verde Ricci's fluttery accent. "It's positively stupendous, isn't it?"
Kal cracked a smile, but quickly tried to stifle it. "Uh…"
Nezumi arched an eyebrow and Kal cleared their throat and sat up straighter.
"Yeah, I guess. Anything's better than 7," they said.
Nezumi nodded. "Good."
After he and Kal finished with the interview prep, Nezumi hurried to catch Rou and Gran before they left for their last lunch with potential sponsors. They looked surprised but pleased when Nezumi said he would be joining them.
They set off toward the Capitol city central, and Gran led them into a swanky building where they had to take an elevator to reach the restaurant. The color palette inside was a combination of gold, pinks, and light blues, and the air smelled faintly of rose water. There were only a few occupied tables, and a table of four—two men and two women—in the back perked up and waved them over.
Nezumi instantly regretted being such a hermit. All four of the Capitol citizens were grinning at him as he, Rou, and Gran approached, and he had no doubt that they would descend on him the moment he sat.
"Nezumi!" barked one of the men, a chubby fellow with a shock of bright orange hair and a matching complexion. "Where have you been? We've missed you."
The women laughed, and one of them shushed him. "Come now, Adolphus. He was probably busy. This is his first Games as a victor after all."
Adolphus harrumphed, and the woman smiled at Nezumi. Her hair was the exact hue and shape as an upended peach.
"Although I hope you'll make time for us little people when you're done playing with whoever you've been with these last few days," the woman finished with a flutter of her eyelashes.
Nezumi smiled back and took a seat next to Adolphus. "I apologize for my absence. The last thing I want is for you to feel neglected." His smile panned the table, and even Adolphus softened a few degrees under its influence.
Gran and Rou exchanged a look and sat in the two remaining chairs.
The peach-haired woman offered her hand, and held it there until Nezumi realized she want him to kiss it. He did so with a genial face but revulsion in his heart.
"I'm Mimi," the hateful woman said. "This here is my very good friend, Gweny."
"Guinevere," the other woman cut in, a brilliant blush spreading over her ice pale skin. What this woman's dark hair lacked in brilliance it made up for in height and complexity.
"Oh," Mimi giggled. "Yes, right! Sorry, Gweny."
Guinevere sank in her chair and stared at the table in stormy silence as Mimi introduced the last member of the Capitol party, the massive and mustached Richard.
Thereafter followed an obscenely long luncheon wherein Mimi, and occasionally the less socially adept "Gweny," made pass after pass at Nezumi, who graciously deflected and brought the conversation back to Kal and Rico's sponsorship. Rou and Gran interjected where needed, but it was obvious to all the District 7 mentors that Nezumi's success with flattering and flirting would be the determining factor.
"Now, you know I'm a big fan of yours, Nezumi," Adolphus said, dabbing his mouth with the cloth napkin. He shoved his decimated plate away and patted his stomach as if consoling it. "And, of course, I have the highest respect for District 7's other victors. However, these new children… Well, I don't mean to be harsh, but do they... You know. Do they have what it takes?"
"Adolphus," Nezumi said, leaning ever so slightly toward the man, "would I be here if they weren't? I know better than to waste your time; I hope you'll do me the same favor."
Adolphus made a very serious effort to keep his face neutral, but Nezumi noticed his eyes flit over the square of exposed skin near his neck. Nezumi stifled a herculean sigh and rested his chin on his knuckle, tilting his head at an angle that made his collarbone more prominent. Adolphus' Adams apple bobbed.
"Yes," the man agreed gruffly. "Right then," he added in a mumble, looking everywhere but at Nezumi.
Nezumi smiled sweetly. Adolphus was the hardest sell, and that seemed taken care of now. The other man… Nezumi didn't know what to make of him. He barely spoke a word except to interject a raunchy joke at the women's expense and he didn't seem to be anyone's particular friend. He didn't have the obscenely rich air about him that the others wore either, and never looked invested when Kal and Rico were brought up. It seemed like he attended this lunch purely for fun. Nezumi didn't waste his energy on him.
Nezumi turned toward the women. They required zero work to seduce. He had no idea if they actually planned to sponsor, or if they were just sticking around because they liked to stare at him. It pissed him off, but he continued to smile and elude until, finally, Adolphus announced he'd better be getting back. Mimi and Guinevere were put out, but they rose from the table as gracefully as they could in their flouncy outfits and while balancing their elaborate hairstyles.
Nezumi's cheeks and head hurt from being pleasant all afternoon, but he said all the pretty goodbyes that his Capitol companions expected and earnestly reminded them that he needed them as much as Kal and Rico did.
Rou clapped him on the shoulder after the room cleared out. "You did a good job, Nezumi. Thank you."
"You were absolutely shameless," Gran said.
"That's what they want," Nezumi snapped back.
Gran eyed him. "It was meant to be a compliment." Nezumi blinked at her. Gran shrugged. "Someone has to do it, even if it makes my skin crawl…"
Gran headed for the door, and Nezumi and Rou followed. They drew to a stop, though, when they noticed Richard hovering just outside. He smiled apologetically.
"Hello," he said, rubbing his hands together. "I was hoping to grab a few minutes with you alone, Nezumi. Do you have some time?"
Rou and Gran glanced at Nezumi, silently asking if he needed them to intervene. Nezumi felt a rush of appreciation for his fellow mentors. He was exhausted and it probably showed, but…
For Kal and Rico.
He forced himself to smile at them and then Richard. "Sure. I have a few minutes to spare. You guys go ahead, I'll meet you back at the Training Center."
Gran and Rou left, although with wary and confused looks, respectively. Richard watched them go and then turned on Nezumi with an exuberance that made him want to curl up and hide.
"Sorry about calling you out like this. I couldn't really say much in there, since, you know, this kind of thing should stay strictly between you and me. Great to meet you, Nezumi. You're even more beautiful in the flesh."
Nezumi's smile faltered, but he quickly recovered. "Thank you. What is it you wanted to talk about?"
"Ah, right." Richard reached into his front jacket pocket and pulled out a small card embossed with red script. Nezumi took it from him and read the words on the front:
Richard Rivus
Procurement Agent
The Capitol seal was printed beneath and Nezumi's heart jumped at the sight of it. This did not seem like a sponsor conversation.
"My number's not on there, for confidentiality reasons. You know, in case you lose it somewhere. I don't want people calling me up and begging to be put on the list. It's happened before, if you can believe it. Not pretty." The man playacted a shiver. "Oh, and I know the card says Richard, but that's just for the clients. You can call me Ricky." His mustache bobbed as he grinned.
Nezumi looked up from the card and gave the man the once over. "How about Dick?"
Ricky laughed heartily. "You don't miss a beat! Good for you! A pretty face plus wit is a killer combo. I can already tell we're going to make a great team."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
Ricky paused and then his face broke into a look of realization. "Oh! Geez. Right, of course you don't. It's a good thing you don't, actually—that means no one has gotten greedy. If anyone approaches you, anyone from the Capitol, let me know immediately. I'll give you my number later. But, right, you're not old enough, are you? When's your birthday? November?"
Nezumi stared blankly at Ricky, and the man pushed on with an indulgent smile.
"I'll explain everything in detail once you're of age. In the meantime, hang tight. And maybe keep a mental list of anyone in the Capitol that you're interested in. I've already set some groundwork with a few, but I'll take your preferences into consideration."
Nezumi felt an abyss opening up beneath his feet, wider and wider, with every word this man spoke. A wave of disgust and anxiety began to creep at the corners of his mind, and he had to clench his jaw to the point of pain in order to convince himself that this was not a nightmare.
Nezumi shoved the card into Ricky's chest. "I'm not interested."
Ricky looked shocked at the sharpness in Nezumi's voice. He frowned and stooped to pick the card up from the ground where it had fallen. Ricky met Nezumi's caustic gaze and sighed.
"Look, kid. I get it. But don't shoot the messenger. These kinds of things… Well, it's not something you can say no to easily. They have ways…" Ricky smoothed out the card's crinkled surface and held it out to Nezumi. "I'm not a bad guy, and I promise, I'm good at my job. I'll make sure you're treated right. So, what do you say?"
Nezumi did not take the card. He didn't even look at it. He glared at Ricky until the man adjusted his tie and cleared his throat.
Ricky slipped the card back into his jacket pocket. "Well… It was nice meeting you, Nezumi. Even though the feeling does not seem mutual." Ricky gave him a quick, light tap on the shoulder and retreated. "I'll be in touch."