(Wow, I haven't updated in a while!! I'll try to be more frequent, eh?)

The absolute darkness had nothing to do with her nightmares that night. Surprisingly, neither did the Hunger Games haunt her mind. Images of gigantic fires swallowing buildings, nature and water alike spun through her brain. Helpless souls and bodies on the streets fell into a black ash. Their pitiful screams and moans thrashed at her ears. The dream ended with an image of a large bell, chiming a harbinger of a death toll.

She didn't shoot up erect, resisting the urge because she didn't feel quite as solely as she hoped to be. Her eyes wandered around the room, lit dimly with an early dawn. The sun hadn't yet overcome the horizon, but was peering up and into her eyes. She cast her arm above eye-level to block the painful morning light, something she was never a fan of at-

She dared not think of home. No, not now. Don't present yourself with a weakness. Her thoughts wandered back to the almost silent tapping coming from her bathroom. It didn't sound like dripping water, more as if things were being placed very quickly. Of course, they'd probably not want to wake me up. She smirked inwardly. Time to practice my stealth.

As quietly as she could possibly manage, she lifted the bed-sheets off her and left them lying limply at the edge of the mattress. It was much more comfortable than she had ever felt, but in a way, it was even less welcoming than the room she had been placed in. As nice as it was, it seemed to remind her of her upcoming death, as if it were written upon every wall a thousand times. It was a nice shade of forest green, with gold paint lining the border between the floor and wall, twisting and entwining like two pieces of rope.

Her hands touched the floor first, to test its durability. The wood had been furnished to look old to make the District 9s more comfortable; although the wood had only been replaced last year. The smile upon her face prospered. A bare foot descended from the bed onto the floor. The moment her other foot made contact with the wood she lowered into a hunting crouch.

Just as she would do at… she refrained from using that way of thinking again. Like she used to do while hunting a large animal, she stalked over to the bathroom door. Gradually she rose to a full stance and aligned herself to the wall. She slowed her breathing so much it became silent, like she wasn't breathing at all. The sounds were definitely coming from the bathroom, she determined. They continued rhythmically. Her ears could acutely hear the breathing of the person too. It sounded masculine to her.

Slowly, her hand reached for the door. Under her skin, her muscles were relaxed, but ready for the sudden tension she would abruptly put on them in only a moment's time. All at once, her hand bashed against the door, which banged onto the wall from the force, she leaped from hiding and her voice rang out hoarsely into the bathroom. "Aha!"

The figure, whose back was faced towards her, dropped what he had in his hands and arms. Numerous bottles of what were most likely hair products and soaps clattered onto the porcelain tile floor. Azalea's hand rushed to her mouth to cover up the rising embarrassment she was experiencing.

Then the figure turned to her. His skin was moderately tan. His eyes looked like rich chocolate, with some golden tints reaching from his now enlarged pupils. His hair was down, jet black, and it had golden streaks at the ends, the same color as the tints in his eyes. He looked very serious, and even furious in a way.

Azalea knew she was up to her neck in trouble by now. She thought it would have been Lupe, or one of the boys, messing through the drawers, looking for something they would never find. With her face red, she dropped to the floor and began to pick up some of the bottles. "I'm so sorry!" was all she managed to blurt out as her fingers scrambled for the fallen items.

Soon enough, the guy lowered down too, joining her picking up the bottles. More surprise overcame her when he laughed, not seeming angry in the slightest. "It's alright." He stood up again, some of the bottles cradled again in the crook of his arm. "It's an excellent stealth technique. I never saw you coming."

"I swear, I thought you were Lupe, or Derek, or Caden or someone like that!" she said, still not feeling redeemed of her previous actions.

He returned to his job of placing the bottles in the correct places. "Well technically, I am someone like that. So it wasn't for the wrong reason."

She swallowed down some of the embarrassment and started to help him out. "What do you mean by that? I don't think the cleaning boy has much to do with me being a tribute."

Hearing his laugh again, Azalea knew she messed up. "I'm not a cleaning boy, for one." His head turned. "I'm a stylist. My name's Felix Jenkins." He said smoothly, returning his focus to the remaining bottles of soap.

Flushing an even deeper red, she handed what she had left to him and dropped a few again in the process. "A stylist for District 9?"

"M-hm." He smiled, going to pick those up and finishing off by closing the cabinet. "You're the last one I had to organize these bottles for though. I'm assigned to one of you, a girl actually." Felix's eyes shot to her. "Are you Azalea?"

Wanting to prove herself better than her first impression, she straightened a little. "That would be me; Azalea Fellin, unwilling District 9 Tribute of the 99th Hunger Games, at your service." She sarcastically saluted. Now she realized she was still in her orange nightgown, which was the least dressy thing she could find for night-wear. It looked like orange cream.

Felix laughed again. She found his laugh welcoming, unlike the room and the morning light. "Nice to meet you then, Azalea. I only started this about a year or two ago, so forgive me if I mess up." He pointed a finger out the door. "You think it would be better outside?"

She nodded. "Yeah, and don't worry about messing up…" she rubbed the back of her head awkwardly. "I've got that covered for you."

"Don't say that." Felix said encouragingly. He opened his mouth to say something else, but she didn't want a sympathy rant.

"So have you met the other District 9s?" she interrupted as casually as she could, while sitting down onto her bed. Felix opened the curtains a little wider, to her misfortune, but the conversation kept the thought of her becoming blind out of her head.

"Yes. The other girl wasn't up," Felix asserted.

"Laelia." Azalea pointed out.

"Yes, that must be her. But the two boys were up. One of them left a few minutes after I went in there. I talked to the tall… well… I'll say this; they're both pretty damned tall. I talked to the shorter of the two, with the tan-dirty blonde hair. Derek, was it?"

"Yes, that would be Derek. The other one is Caden."

Felix nodded and leaned against the window sill, realizing the squinting of her eyes with the light. "Derek seems lean, tough, good competitor." Azalea frowned a little inwardly at that. Then the stylist exhaled sharply and smirked. "But from what I saw, you'd be more of the problem for those Careers."

She didn't know whether that was supposed to be a compliment or an insult. "Seriously?" She didn't really think she was that good. If anything she wasn't better than… No… no thinking like that. Sors quote of farewell sung like a high-pitched killdeer call. He's going to whoop your ass, Fellin. "Or are you just saying that because you're my stylist?"

"Definitely. And, no it's not just because I'm your stylist. I thought the same thing before I knew such." Felix folded his arms and walked towards her in long strides until he was only inches away from her. "Can you stand up for me, by the way?"

Clueless, but obedient, she stood up and held her arms out at her sides. Then she took a few steps forwards as he stepped back. "Like this, right?"

He began to circle her and watch her intently. "Perfect." he said, meditatively. After a cycle of about four times, he stood behind her and held up her arms a little. She found it a little awkward, but she still didn't protest. Then his straightened one arm horizontally, then the other.

"If I'm not being too brash, may I ask what exactly you are doing?" Azalea's eyes followed him as he rounded back in front of her. She lowered her arms.

"Not brash; it's expected." he said. "Measuring; and if that doesn't satisfy your curiosity, I'm also checking your muscle tone."

"Doubting your first impression now?" she asked somewhat playfully. "By the way I talk, I'm not the furtive girl I seemed to be only a few moments ago?"

Felix huffed and smirked. "Oh, even more now because I've never heard a girl your age using the word 'furtive' in a sentence." he said sarcastically.

"So now we're just being sexist, huh?" she shoved him softly and smiled back.

"I believe the proper term would be 'chauvinist'." Felix replied, talking scholarly and with an accent.

Just as she was about to retort playfully back, she burst out laughing. Soon enough, Felix chorused her laughter. Things are going to go quite smoothly, aren't they? "I don't think 'know-it-all' would be bad in this case, either." she murmured through the mirth.

Somehow Felix had turned around and fell silent and serious again. He paced back to the window, with his eyes fixed wide upon something dangling in the corner.

Azalea stepped to his side and looked up too. "A spider?" she asked, a little mad that it had disrupted their enjoyment. "They're most intriguing creatures." He said, lifting his index finger up to it.

"You actually… like spiders?" she raised a brow.

"I always have. Even when I was a very young boy." He let it creep onto his finger with its many fragile legs. Azalea couldn't help letting some of the fear slip through her countenance. She bit her lip watching him. He caught the look. "Many people are quite frightened of them."

"I wonder why…" she said lowly under her breath.

Felix shot her a glance that told her a story of why she should have kept that thought in her head. "It's because they have eight legs, instead of two and multiple eyes, instead of one pair. It's because they're different." The spider, being smaller than his fingernail, was half-way up his arm and a bark brown. "Really, there are magnificent, beneath their appearance though. In a matter of a few days, up to a week, they can create more intricate patterns than one who has studied the art for half of a century."

Letting what he said sink in for a moment, she realized something. "You feel a bond with it, because you're a stylist and all."

"Yes, in that respect. And not the only respect, I can assure you." he ended grimly. "I have sympathy for it too. Humans…" he transferred the spider to his other arm. "Are so afraid of things that aren't… normal; things that don't follow the norm."

She didn't miss his connection to Panem and the Capitol. They certainly didn't like those who thought differently, those who started uprisings. "Do you collect spiders?"

"What?" Felix shot a confused look at her.

"Some people collect things they're interested in. I mean do you keep some in like… a jar or-" His horrified countenance and an evident shudder made her cut herself off. I should have just bitten my tongue, right?

In one great leap, the spider flew from Felix's arm and once again to its beautifully crafted web. A wave of guilt came over Felix and he held out his index finger encouragingly to the arachnid again. "Oh, like a trap, a prison?" his deep eyes bored into her like knives. "Like the Arena?"

Everything hit her hard. She tore away the gaze, flushing slightly. "You… you don't like the Hunger Games."

"Obviously..." Felix said bitterly, gritting his teeth.

"They give you your job though… don't they?" she said somewhat apologetically. "Sorry if I'm being stereotypical, but I thought people in the Capitol got a kick out of the Games?"

Outside the sun had risen above the horizon, the golden morning rays fading to orange in the windows. Felix looked straight into it and took the spider up. "As surprising as it may seem," he smirked inwardly at a new idea. "There is a diminutive group of us here that are pessimistic." He let the spider dance on his fingers. "In fact, we may be the only intelligent ones, or at least right in the head." A frown curled down on his face as he turned back to her. He closed his eyes and turned his head to the right. "You underestimate the power of the Capitol, Azalea Fellin." When he looked back, the frown had been exchanged for a grim smile.

Azalea fearfully began to retreat a little when he walked to her with the spider in his palm. Now the dark grin showed on his face. "I-I-I'm sorry! I just didn't know! I could have expected you to be like that!" It wasn't the spider, but Felix's expression that sent a chill down her spine. You've messed up now… She flinched when he took her hand and raised it to chest level. "Stop; I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" She closed her eyes and averted her head back, trying to tug away.

A bit harshly, Felix grabbed her wrist and tugged her back. Her eyes were wide with panic, glittering helplessly like a small flame. Her eyes met with the pair of abyssal coronas. And it only stunned her more when he threw his head back and laughed.

Smiling warmly again, he gently placed the spider in her palm. "Don't worry, it won't bite you." he grinned when she jumped a little.

Reluctantly and stiffly, she let the spider crawl up her wrist. She relaxed a little at Felix's words. Her face flushed red with anger and embarrassment. "What was that?! Are you trying to give me a heart attack!?"

A hearty laughter erupted from him again. "That, my dear, is called acting; a skill you may need at the Hunger Games." He held out her arm. "Relax a little, it's only curious. Aren't we all?"

It surprised her greatly that she actually felt better after following Felix's words. The spider stopped and looked up at her expectantly. This isn't so bad… She offered a slight smile in return. Her face didn't return to a scowl. "What exactly do you mean, 'a skill I might need', exactly? And I thought you just said you hated these Games."

"I do." Felix smiled at the sight and sat on the bed. He was glad someone else could share his interests. "And I'm afraid I can't tell you that. You're smart; I don't have doubts that you'll figure what I mean."

Surprisingly, she found the spider quite cute, the way it curiously traveled from one arm to another. "Felix…"

"Hm?"

"Have you… have you ever…?"

"Have I ever what?" he raised a brow.

The spider wove a small pattern down her finger and dangled off the tip. She swung it gently. "Have you ever wondered what it would be like… if there weren't any-?"

At the same moment as she was about to finish her sentence, a bloodcurdling scream came from down the hall, as well as a gunshot.