Cato sat beside her once his interview was finished, a self-satisfied smirk in place. She glanced at him once, then ignored him in place of watching the other interviews.
A few of the tributes stuck out. Marina was quiet, Ethan far too cocky for a boy of twelve. The redhead from Five was clever and sly. The cripple from Ten was quiet, almost shy. The tiny girl from Eleven was outspoken, her partner sullen. The girl from Twelve walked up, again clad in some flaming gown. But what substance did she have, really? Clove narrowed her eyes as the girl spun and burst into a flame that made the audience cheer.
Then the boy from Twelve began, and she knew he was trouble from the start. He was too charming, too funny, too casual about it all. And then he said he was in love with his District partner, and the whole thing went to hell.
Clove froze, her back rigid as she saw the audience react with sorrow, pain, horror. No, no, no! Be cold. Controlled. He'll die, and the audience will forget just how much they empathized with him once the blood starts flowing. She found her breath again and consciously began to relax every tense part of her. It wouldn't do to have a Career frightened of a tribute from Twelve, now would it?
They stood for the anthem and then were finally allowed back into the Training Center. Clove got into an elevator car with Cato and three other tributes who she could barely remember. Their floor was first to be let off.
As soon as the elevator doors closed behind them, Cato turned to her with a grin. "So, Clove, what exactly was it that you said?"
She groaned and flung herself onto a couch, burying her face in her hands as though it could cover her flush. "I said a lot of things, Ludwig, you'll have to be more specific than that," she answered, her voice muffled.
She felt rather than saw him sit down too close to her, looming over her, his breath warm on the exposed skin of her neck. A shiver coursed through her as he spoke. "You told Caesar I was handsome. Why wouldn't you tell me?" he murmured. Oh, he'd finally discovered the one thing that made her uncomfortable, his proximity, and he was using it to his advantage. Clove could imagine the amusement on his brutish face, his pleasure as she squirmed and blushed.
She scooted over, putting some distance between them, and he chuckled, the sound raspy. "I never said you were handsome," she countered. "I said I wasn't complaining, not that I didn't have anything to complain about."
"Hair-splitting," Cato shrugged. "Not really a denial."
Clove let out an exasperated sigh, but before she could dig herself deeper, she heard the elevator open. She lifted her head to see Enobaria, Brutus, Lucretia, and the stylists return with no small amount of relief.
They occupied the couches around them, expressions ranging from thrilled to calculating. Enobaria was the latter as she cleared her throat. "First things first: excellent job, both of you. Clove, nice balance of sweet and arrogant. Cato, you definitely drew attention from sponsors. I've received offers for the both of you based solely on interviews." Her eyes hardened. "Of course, you had no control over what the other tributes did, so I can't blame you for Twelve's publicity stunt. But it's still quite important that you nip their star-crossed lovers act in the bud."
"Kill the girl first," Brutus added. "She's more dangerous than he is, with that score and that ferocity. If you can somehow recruit the boy, that might not be a bad idea. You can overpower him if need be, but he'll probably lead you right to her."
Clove evaluated the intelligence of that decision for a moment. He was strong, that much she knew. He could definitely take one of them out before they realized. They'd have to rely on his moral high ground, and if there was one thing Clove had no faith in, it was ethics. But Brutus was still one of her mentors, and if he gave her such explicit advice, she'd do well to take it if she wanted any sponsor gifts at all.
"We can discuss more over dinner," Enobaria said, flicking her eyes at the stylists in a manner Clove recognized. She didn't trust them, and Clove didn't, either.
After dinner, they moved to the sitting room to watch the replay of the interviews. Clove unabashedly sneered at Glimmer and curled her lip at Marvel's awkward attempts at humor. Then she saw an orange-clad figure take the stage. "I could've sworn I stumbled up those steps," she muttered to herself as she watched herself glide across the floor and gracefully extend a hand to Caesar.
She was oddly detached as she watched the other Clove smile sweetly, giggle, charm. It felt more like she was watching through someone else's eyes, objectively noting the ice beneath her grin, the pride shielded by modesty when she spoke about her talents, the coy way she deflected the uncomfortable question about Cato.
She was a Career through and through on the screen. Her sweetest smile couldn't hide the ferocity, the bloodlust beneath. But that was tantalizing to the Capitol, she thought, being able to see the lines of her mask but not knowing just what it hid. They liked surprises even more when they knew there'd be one.
Clove relaxed against the couch as Cato took the stage. She watched again as he was colder, more vicious than she'd remembered. "So did you have to memorize those obvious villain lines or did you come up with them yourself?" she drawled, turning over to look at the real Cato.
"A bit of both, actually," he responded, not nearly as hostile as she'd expected. "They fit with my angle. It was more difficult to choose the proper time for them than to actually remember them. So many opportunities, so little time."
She stared at him in disbelief for a moment before snorting. "Sure, Ludwig." Clove turned back to the screen for the rest of the interviews.
When they'd finished and the screen went black, Clove looked over at the mentors. This was the second-to-last time she'd be able to see them, perhaps forever. She shivered at the thought but rose with everyone else.
Lucretia bobbled over to them, tears glistening in her eyes. "It was a pleasure to work with you," she bubbled, the words tumbling out of her mouth far too quickly. "Good luck to you both. I'll ask my friends- see if any of them might sponsor you." She wrapped them in a hug that Clove stood too stiffly to return, that Cato practically ignored. Then she hurried out without waiting for the mentors.
"That's rare," Enobaria commented softly. "She's never solicited donations from her friends before. You two must've impressed her." She stopped, and there was silence.
"Any last-minute advice?" Cato asked after a while.
"Keep all the supplies close," Brutus told them. "You'll want to have as much food on you as possible, just in case. Keep enough water for a few days and some dense food along with your weapons."
"Work with your allies for as long as is needed," Enobaria added. "The audience expects you to split up at some point, counts on it, probably. And since none of them are particularly capable, you can do so sooner rather than later. Clove, you don't have to play your angle any more. Go be vicious, be victorious, both of you. Brutus and I will handle the sponsors and your reputations."
Clove shook hands with them both, almost saddened. Sure, Brutus disgusted her, but he was home. Enobaria, terrifying as she was, was home. Her eyes found Cato as he brushed past her to clap Brutus on the back. He was home, too.
Enobaria woke her in the morning and took her up to the roof, where a hovercraft waited. Cato was already inside, about as far away from her as could be managed. Clove sneered when they placed the perpetually-late girl from Twelve right next to her, but docilely stuck out her arm for the tracker. The hovercraft began to move, the lights darkening. She glanced up, around at the nervous tributes, and smiled.
Two Peacekeepers escorted her to her Launch Room, where Bac was waiting for her. He slipped a dark rust jacket over her outfit. "Almost time, Clove," he warned her just before an electronic voice did.
She smiled back at him, the expression cold. "I'll see you soon. I expect more dresses like that one." He nodded back silently. They shook hands, and then she stepped into the launch tube.
Clove blinked beneath the sudden sunlight, willing her eyes to adjust. A clearing, angular Cornucopia in the center, forests around. She shifted from foot to foot and glanced at Cato, already leaning forward, at Glimmer, practically hopping with excitement, at Marvel beside her. She focused back on her target, and then the gong sounded.
She was off her platform immediately, sprinting towards the piles of weapons, the sleek, beautiful knives she knew it had to hold. She surpassed the other tributes to open a pack, filled with a vest and knives as the bloodbath surged around her. Cato was beating up the kid he'd threatened in the Training Center, Marvel slashed at another tribute, nameless people shrieked and snarled and swore.
She took one of her knives and flung it at a boy who was grappling with someone for a backpack. He toppled, revealing an open-mouthed Firegirl. Her face contorted into a snarl as she threw another knife that lodged into the girl's backpack as she hoisted it up to cover her face. But the other girl was running, sprinting, really, and Clove had no desire to chase her down, not when there were so many other tributes to hunt.
They played at the Cornucopia for a while longer, killing the boy from Four who'd apparently decided he no longer wanted to be in their alliance. Marina was long-gone, vanished into the woods with some supplies.
"They betrayed us," Clove remarked, glancing around at the carnage indifferently. "Why did I even pretend to be friendly to them? Was there even a point?" She was seated cross-legged on the ground, cleaning her knives with her jacket as Cato twirled a gleaming sword around, Glimmer picked up a bow and fired some test shots.
Cato snorted. "I'm not surprised. They were weak, both of them. They knew we would turn on them soon enough."
Clove pushed herself to her feet and began to toss the backpacks in a pile, skirting around the bodies. "Root through those, see if there's anything worth taking on the hunt," she told Marvel. "If there's any knives, I'll take them." He looked up from a tribute's dying breaths, saw the ice on her face, and nodded.
By the time they were back on the hunt, she had lined her jacket with gleaming beauties, delicate blades for carving and daggers for efficiency. She wore a backpack, having taken Brutus' advice, and stuffed it with bottles of water and food that wouldn't spoil quickly.
Glimmer made a snide comment about carrying more than one weighed, and Clove turned around to face the blonde. "Some of us are strong enough to pull our own weight. Some of us aren't. Which are you, Glimmer?" she asked, toying with her favorite blade, a nasty thing with a cruel, thin tip, perfect for her kind of decorative art.
Glimmer blanched and muttered something under her breath as Cato laughed. "Sweet little Clove isn't quite so sweet any more," he warned her. "I'd watch out, if I were you."
It was then, as Glimmer bristled and made as if to retort, that someone darted across their path. Clove burst into a run instinctively, attracted to the fearful movement. A glance to her side showed that Cato had reacted the same way.
They cornered whoever it was, and the tribute turned around to reveal Loverboy, face pale with fear and gripping a knife. Clove scowled at the sight of one of her precious weapons in his inferior grasp.
"What are we going to do with him, Cato?" Glimmer asked breathlessly as she caught up. "Kill him quickly or slowly?"
Cato didn't look at her, looked instead at Clove, and she knew he was remembering Brutus' instructions. "No, I think he'll be helpful to us. Isn't that right?" he asked the boy.
He nodded, shakily at first and then with confidence. He might not have known why he was being spared, but he leaped at the lifeline. "I'm strong and I can use a knife. I'd be a good member of your alliance."
Glimmer pouted at being overruled, but Clove found she didn't really care. "The thing is, Loverboy," she began idly, "we have strong." She nodded at Cato, who smirked. "We have good at knives." She gestured at herself. "We already have an alliance. What we don't have is a use for you."
"I- I can-" the boy stammered, eyes tracking Clove's hand as it rested on the handle of her favorite knife, as her fingers closed around it. "I can lead you to her!" he burst out.
Clove paused, a chilling smile sweeping her features. "Oh, can you? And how would you do that?"
"She- she told me what her plan was going to be. In the arena. I know where she'll go, what she'll do," Loverboy rushed. "Let me join you and I promise you'll find her."
Clove grinned up at Cato. "Well, with such a tempting offer, how could we refuse?" she purred. "Just make sure that we do find her. I'm sure she'd hate to find your face in the sky, since you two are just so in love." She leaned in close to him, relishing the fear that rose from him unbidden before drawing back. "Welcome to the alliance, Loverboy."