I apoligise profoundly for this being so short but I am unbelievably busy at the moment and it was this or nothing, and its already late. I am sorry but with Catching Fire release (hsjfhghiga) and mocks I've been so busy! Thanks again to my friends megansalvatoreox and churchthecat for reviewing!
Chapter 11
The lights shimmered and shined, the orange of the stage glowing somewhat aggressively out of the television screen. Finnick stared up at the monitor as he slowly waited for his turn in the spotlight. With each moment, his heart hammered harder, his palms grew moister and his lip grew rougher as he chewed on it with tension. On screen, Caesar was interviewing Bellus, the female tribute from district one. She sat in a plump, white chair as Caesar lent over her, pushing a microphone in her capitolized flawless face, hardly able to contain his excitement. His lips was stretched into the biggest smile Finnick thought he had ever seen, his eyes were glittering, he reminded Finnick of a little dog who's just seen a bone. They really were like prize bulls to these people. They take them out, show them off, gasp in amazement and then kill them, just for the fun of it. Bellus continued to talk, swishing the soft and silky fabric from side to side as she spoke, her face perfectly hiding her fear with a facade of innocent eyes and a bright smile. Finnick tried hard to recall everything Neil said, as well as Mags. His mind flashed back to that morning as he desperately attempted to remember what he was supposed to say.
Finnick sat in a thick, lavish, black leather chair, on the fourth floor of the tribute accommodation. He squirmed and wriggled, he never was one to remain still especially in times of great anxiety. Mags had wanted to see him, and his mind raced through billions of possibilities of why that was. From the extremely farfetched 'you're actually an alien' to 'good bye and good luck' Finnick's mind lapped it all up, soaking it deep within the crevices of his brain. Mags walked in, on first appearance she had seemed young but now age was evident in her weary face, the facade was starting to crack; Finnick could see wrinkles coating her face, etching in their own design. He could also spot grey creeping in at the top of her hairline. He wondered whether she used any capitol products to appear younger, dyes and all that. As he was thinking this, Mags opened her mouth. "So as you know your interview is tomorrow" she said. Finnick's heart dropped, hitting the bottom of his ribcage with a deafening thud. He had forgotten about that. Seeing the shock written all over his face Mags said "Don't tell me you forgot?" in a sighing, motherly tone. "Ummmm" Finnick replied "Maybe"
"What am I going to do with you? Do you ever listen to a word I say?" Mags pronounced her voice more affectionate than stern. Finnick looked down his cheeks flushing with ignominy and shame. "Obviously you are aware that these interviews are no more than propaganda, but don't you mistake it, these are important. A good interview leads to sponsors and sponsors can save you just as easily as water, or a weapon." Mags paused as if to let the message sink in. "You need an edge" she said finally in an inquisitive voice. "I'm pretty sure you know what your angle will be by now but just in case." Mags nattered on in a quick rather chatty voice; then she leaned in her face deadly serious. "Finnick, Are you aware of your beauty?" she asked. Finnick went as red as tomato, his eyes dropped to the floor as he began to wring his hands, his whole body consumed by raw mortification. Mags ignored this and persisted on finishing her point. "People already love you. I know you don't think you have a chance. But sponsors are everything, and if you ooze charm and confidence you'll have them lapping from your hand."
Finnick flashed back from his memory with a shudder, charm. So charm it would be.