75 - Before.
Johanna walks into the basement of the Palace, which is still as half constructed as ever.
The developers of the project had lost their funding and the fate of the building had been in litigation for years, which was perfect for their uses. It was also a reminder to the victors that not everyone in the Capitol is as well off as the people they interact with. Some people clearly deal with the real impact of not having enough, even if it is at a different level than what anyone in the districts experience.
Finnick is already there, sitting on the couch. He keeps flicking the hood of his grey cashmere sweatshirt on and off, sometimes obscuring his face, sometimes not. His right leg vibrates with nervous energy, tapping out an erratic rhythm on the unfinished floors.
"Where's the old man?" Johanna asks him. Her fitted leather jacket is unzipped, revealing that her shirt, made of strips of fabric that crisscross across her chest, still leaves much of her skin exposed.
"Late," Finnick replies, barely looking up at her.
It is three in the morning, but none of them were expecting to get much sleep anyway, no matter how much they need it.
"I saw you have a little fun with her yesterday." Johanna says as she sits down next to him. "What was that bit with the sugar cubes?"
Finnick stops tapping his foot and looks at her. He is pulling on the strings of his hood, cinching it around his face. It is not his best look. He lets them go to reach his hand out to Johanna, and they spring back, loosening the hood so that is barely on his head.
"Sugar cube?" he says in a voice that she rarely hears any more, reaching out his empty hand and dropping his eyes. "You want something sweet, you better grab it quick."
He grins, and she laughs.
"I heard you stuck your boobs in his face," he says to her.
"That doesn't sound like me," she says too innocently.
"You should have seen her face," she laughs. "She was not happy about it. At least we can have a little fun before we go to our noble deaths."
Finnick smiles with her, but his foot starts tapping again. She sighs, exasperated, knowing she shouldn't have said anything and trying to come up with something else to say when Haymitch finally bursts through the door.
He looks tired and as rumpled as usual, but the white shirt that he is wearing is made out of fine cotton, and it is clean. Someone else must be dressing him for a change.
"Okay," he says, not stopping to sit down, "she hates all of you. Of course, you guys couldn't help yourselves and clearly went out of your way to make her as uncomfortable as possible, which was great."
He glares pointedly at Johanna.
"You could at least try keeping your clothes on some of the time."
"Hello to you too. And hey, you want me to die for the girl, you might as well let me have a little fun first." She shrugs at him. "Besides, she'll get her revenge when she shoots me through the eye at 100 paces."
"That is actually exactly what I am trying to prevent from happening, no thanks to you two."
Haymitch turns to Finnick.
"And you. I thought you were supposed to be good with women," he says in his direction. "Your job over the next couple of days is to get her to like you. She already likes Mags, so that should be an in for you. If not, we will have to figure something else out."
Finnick nods.
"You would think with that face it would be easy, but of course, she has to make everything more difficult," Haymitch continues under his breath.
"You," Haymitch pivots back to Johanna, "there is no hope for. So you are going to have to earn your in with Chaff and Seeder or Beetee and Wiress."
"Nuts and Volts?" Johanna asks, incredulous. "You have got to be kidding me."
"We need them to get you out of there. As delightful and deadly as you are, we need someone with real brains to do the heavy lifting on that front. And lucky for us, they actually managed to make a good impression on the girl."
Of course, Johanna thinks to herself, Mags, Nuts, Volts. Katniss has to do everything her way.
"I would feel a lot better about this whole thing if I had any idea how you were planning on actually getting us out of the arena while all of Panem is watching," Johanna mutters to herself.
"No go sweetheart," Haymitch says with a deadly smile. "But we will get you out. When we get a better idea of what we are working with, we'll let you know when."
"And how are you going to communicate with us while we are in the Arena?" Finnick asks before Johanna can get out another snide remark.
"The only way we can communicate," Haymitch says. "Through the gifts we send. It'll be bread. District equals day, number equals hour. Got it?"
Finnick nods again.
"So Johanna, either you and Blight meet up with Finnick, who will have managed to make Katniss like him, Chaff and Seeder, or Wiress and Beetee before trying to team up with Katniss and Peeta. Whatever you do, do not let her kill you."
"Oh really? I am not supposed to let that little bitch kill me?" Johanna mutters some more. "You should really be worried about her."
Haymitch ignores her.
"Obviously get Cecelia if you can, Woof is hopeless, Evangeline and Iskander would help you if they can, but they are probably going to be dealing with too many withdrawal symptoms, Sta-"
"We get it," Johanna interrupts him, "1 and 2 are bad, everyone else is good, don't get caught up with drunks and addicts, save the Mockingjay, no Mockingjay without the boy. We don't need to be treated like idiots. Although I do see how someone could be confused, given that we are trusting you with our lives."
Finnick's foot gets going again.
Haymitch checks the watch in his pocket and is about to go right back out the door he came in when Johanna throws one more thought his way.
"Hey, so you know there is no love lost between Silas and me but doesn't this plan screw over our mentors? It doesn't seem like you are going to be able to get everybody out of the mentor room in the training center in the middle of the Capitol after whatever you are planning to have happen in the arena happens."
Haymitch looks levelly at Johanna.
In that quiet moment, she sees how much older he looks, and she realizes how much each of the lives that he is asking be sacrificed in the name of some greater good weighs on him. Especially when there are no guarantees that those sacrifices won't be made in vain. She wonders how exactly he found himself in this role, ultimate mastermind of a revolution, but knows that if she asks him she will only get a glib remark about how much smarter he is than everyone else in response.
"Every person understands the risks of what is being asked of them," he says evenly, but there is a quick flash of guilt in his eyes before he looks away from her.
Everyone except, of course, his own mentees.
"Any last advice?" Finnick asks as he stands up, pushes his hood completely off his head, takes a deep breath, and squares his shoulders.
Haymitch has already started back toward the door he came in through, but he pauses now and turns back toward them.
"Yeah," he says with a growl, "stay alive."
And with that, he is gone.
Johanna exhales sharply as she stands up next to Finnick, running both hands tiredly through her short hair.
"Oof, I need a drink. And a fuck."
Finnick looks down at her with a flirtatious half smile.
"I thought we didn't do that Miss Mason."
"Not everything is about you, Pretty Boy," she says as she elbows him lightly in the side. "You can at least buy me a drink."
"Besides," she continues as she leads them toward the door, "it's the end of the world. All bets are off."
"Oh really?" he laughs, grabbing her hand as they step into the dark hallway. He turns on the flashlight he had in his pocket even though they both could most likely do the walk by feel.
"You know we aren't supposed to be out of the training center." His voice drops in the hall even though no one can hear them. "We are Tributes after all."
"Like anyone in Colosseum would say anything," she says scornfully. "But fine. Rooftop? Swipe a bottle from your floor."
"It's a date," he says as they reach the door that leads outside. "Maybe if you're lucky you'll get a little action. A little making out?" He licks his lip. "A little tongue?"
"Ha! You mean if you are lucky," she says peering carefully out the door.
And with that, they slip silently out into the night, one after the other, taking different paths back to the Training Center that looms, a glittering fortress, in the middle of the quiet city.