Hello! First off, I'm so sorry for my MIA-ness. I don't want to bore ya'll with excuses, so I just wont. Secondly, a big thank you to everybody who's reviewed, followed and added the story to favorites. It was never my intention to fall off the face of the Earth like that but you can be sure that I'm finishing this story. I won't be able to update as much as before, but I can assure you it won't take me as long again. Also, any mistakes that are made are entirely my own.
Without further ado...
Disclaimer: I still own nothing.
The first thing that catches my eye is the canopy of lights strung from the crystal chandelier, which hangs from the center of the ceiling. Despite the lack of darkness, the lights twinkle like stars in the middle of the night and it really is very breathtaking to look at. A thin, gauzy material covers the walls and while lights hang from the ceiling; it casts the room in a golden glow.
Although there are no chairs to sit down in, there's an assortment of tables covered in white silk. Sitting atop the tallest tables is a glass vase with an array of white roses and white feathers with garlands of iridescent glass beads woven throughout. There are some taller flower arrangements, but those have tear-shaped glass ornaments hanging with a tiny white candle flickering inside.
Johanna lets out a low whistle as she flicks the glass ornament dangling from the arrangement, smirking at Finnick. He merely shakes his head and gives her a disapproving look as we snake our way around the tables, watching the guests mingle and whisper among themselves with wonder, gawking around the ballroom.
"Well, looks like Snow went all out," Finnick tells us in a whisper.
"Of course he did, that—"
"Jo, careful," Finnick hisses, giving her a precautionary look from the corner of his eye.
She rolls her eyes and heaves a heavy sigh, the corners of her lips turned down in disappointment.
We reach the other end of the ballroom when the towers of strawberries catch my eye. I almost feel my mouth hang open at their luscious color, the fragrance emanating them utterly heavenly. I step closer and see the platters of fresh fruit splayed out, their aroma combining to form a delicious medley. Watermelon wedges, grapes bunches along with oranges cut in half. In another platter, there's kiwi slices, cubes of mango, whole peaches and raspberries. In the third platter rest papaya halves, fig halves, dark grape bunches, rich red pomegranate seeds, blueberries, black berries along with chunks of pineapples. Laid out between the fruit platters are garlands of white magnolias, gardenias and orchids; not only are they placed between the platters, but they also hang from the edge of the table.
"Ooh!" squeals Johanna, dragging Finnick away.
I turn away and watch them approach the table with the chocolate fountains. There's a fountain of luscious dark chocolate, another fountain with white chocolate that almost looks opalescent in the light and a third fountain full of molten gold chocolate. There's a last fountain but it doesn't look like any chocolate I've ever seen; the liquid is gold but translucent and shimmers in the light. It finally occurs to me that it must be honey, which makes me incredibly curious. It seems like I'm not the only one drawn to it since most of the guests are hovering around that and the golden chocolate fountain.
Johanna plucks several strawberries from the strawberry tower and pushes her way through the crowd, glaring at the guests when they turn to look at her, almost as if daring them to tell her something. Finnick just hangs back, shaking his head and laughing silently as she smothers the strawberries in the golden syrup. She makes her way back to us, chewing with a blissful expression on her face.
"That good, huh?" Finnick teases her.
Johanna flips him the bird but continues shove strawberries into her mouth. Once again, I'm struck by the sheer bluntness of her personality that I can't help but stare at her. She looks up past her sticky fingers and at me, straightening up self consciously.
"What? Is there something on my face?" she quips, touching her fingers to her cheek.
Finnick snickers as he goes to get napkins for Johanna to wipe her hands and mouth. I stand there, the heat rising to my face as she peers at me peculiarly.
"You're incredible, Johanna."
She bats her lashes at me and as a coy look appears on her face.
"Why, Peeta, I don't know what to say. I didn't think you noticed me," she says, sighing dreamily.
"No, I— you're a breath of fresh air. Everybody seems to try too hard and bend over backward but you're just…"
Her thin dark eyebrows rise on her forehead as Finnick wipes her face clean.
"She wouldn't be herself if she wasn't," he says, giving her an affectionate smile. "Although she needs to be careful or else it might land her in trouble. It's not a big deal back at home but here in the Capitol…"
Her forehead creases with fondness as she looks back at Finnick.
"Come on, Finn. If I wouldn't speak my mind, I'd probably burst at the seams. But you're right, it wouldn't do me any favors to be overly truthful around this crowd. You never know who's listening," she murmurs, glancing around suspiciously.
An attendant wearing a crisp white tuxedo approaches us, a silver platter full of what I assume to be champagne in flutes lined up.
"Drink?"
Johanna immediately snatches a flute up and Finnick smiles at the attendant, taking one for himself and for me.
Hey, wait a minute… this reminds me… someone's been too quiet.
"Hey, Haymitch, are you fine with champagne or is it too—" I say, turning around to smirk at him.
But to my surprise, Haymitch has vanished. I look around, puzzled, and turn to Johanna and Finnick again.
"When did he take off?"
"He must have sneaked off when Johanna went to get strawberries," Finnick says thoughtfully.
Johanna gulps down her champagne and looks around, squinting in concentration as she searches for Haymitch. I look down at the fizzing ochre drink and get a waft of the most delicious scent ever; honey and lavender mixed with something fruity and I'm about to take a drink when Johanna screeches all of a sudden.
"Aha! There he is!" she smiles triumphantly, nodding her head towards him.
"Looks like he went in search for some better alcohol than this," Finnick laughs, raising his champagne flute slightly.
Sure enough, Haymitch looks like a child in a candy store. He's standing before what I presume to be the liquor section of the ballroom.
"Um, excuse me… someone should warn him about exercising some control," I mutter, taking off.
I reach Haymitch just in time as the bartender hands him a short glass full of a dark brown liquid. He raises it to his mouth but takes a deep breath instead, seeming to savor the alcohol's scent.
"What do you have there?" I ask, sidling to his side.
He jumps slightly, the liquid sloshing around in his glass. He gives me a sour look before looking down at the glass, making sure that no drop got spilled.
"Damn it, kid. You almost gave me a heart attack," he reprimands, clutching the glass even tighter in his hand.
"Sorry, Haymitch," I tell him, offering a contrite smile. "Don't you think you should—"
But before I can finish the sentence, he gulps the drink down. He smacks his lips contentedly and signals to the bartender to pour him another one.
"Haymitch."
"What?" he asks, glaring at me from the corner of his eyes.
"You shouldn't—"
"Yeah, well, since when has that stopped me?" he asks smartly.
I sigh and glance at the drink in my hand.
"Maybe you should take it easy there," he snickers, eyeing my full drink. "Wouldn't want the bubbles get to your head."
I give him a disapproving look before downing the whole thing. Just as I had thought, it tastes delicious with only the tiniest hint of alcohol.
"That's how it sneaks up on you," he says, reading my thoughts. "Now, why don't you order a big boy drink? I seem to recall that you lost a bet to me."
"Haymitch, I'm not going to get drunk here. It's just asking for trouble," I whisper to him.
"Trouble schmouble," he says in a singsong tone. "What better way than to go out kicking and screaming?"
"I hope you don't mean that literally," I mumble, turning my attention to the bottles of liquor behind the bartender.
I'd never seen so much alcohol in my life. There are rows upon rows of crystal decanters, all full to the brim with an array of colors: from your run of the mill clear and brown to candy hued. There's even an ominous looking bottle full of jet black liquor and I can see that Haymitch is eager to try it, whatever it is. A bottle suddenly catches my eye, the liquid shimmering in the light; it's a bright green that looks almost poisonous. Still, if the champagne hardly tasted like alcohol, I can't help but wonder if that will.
"Oho, I see what you've got your eye on boy. Needless to say, I'm proud. Of course, I'll be even prouder once you drink some of that. But we'll save that 'til the end of the night, right along with black beauty over there," Haymitch tells me, nodding toward the bottle with the black liquid.
"Do you know what it is?"
"Dunno, don't care," he shrugs, downing his fresh drink.
"What are you drinking now?"
"The finest whiskey that ever was created," he sighs, nuzzling his empty glass with his cheek.
"I bet you they don't have that back home," I tell him dryly.
He scoffs and rolls his eyes.
"This makes everything back home taste like shit. No offense to Ripper, though. Goodness knows she's saved me from plenty of tight spots," he tells me in a low voice.
"So why don't you order some or something?"
"What makes you think I haven't tried?" he laughs, nodding for the bartender for more.
"I should have known," I chuckle, placing the empty flute on the platter of an attendant who passes by.
"So, what's going to be your poison for this evening, kid?"
"You know that I don't really know much about liquor, Haymitch."
"But I do," he says, wagging his eyebrows at me.
"I guess I'll have what you're having," I say with a shrug.
Next thing I know, there's a glass full of the dark brown liquid in my hand.
"To your good health," I toast, raising the glass slightly.
Haymitch watches me with an amused expression as I lower the glass to my lips and take a small sip. Right away it burns as it makes its way down and I can't help but grimace at the taste.
"Jesus, Haymitch," I sputter. "You could probably use this as lighter fluid."
He cackles before taking a drink of his own.
"It's not so bad after the first mouthful. Go on," he says.
I give him a wary look before taking a deep breath and yet another sip. Although the liquor still burns, I find that there's a different taste to it. Strangely enough, it has leather-y notes with a hint of honey. I stare at the glass perplexedly, lifting it to let the lights from the ceiling filter through it, changing the liquid to a deep amber color.
The sound of trumpets interrupts my train of thought and the crowd starts to whisper excitedly. I turn to the entryway to watch as Katniss and Snow emerge in a flurry of confetti. Although her arm is looped through his that's the only part of their bodies that touch; it gives me some satisfaction that she refuses to be touched by him. They walk around the dance floor, Snow bowing his head in greeting as he passes by people he knows while Katniss stares head, a frozen smile on her face.
This has to be the most horrible thing ever. To have her so close and yet unable to do anything about it.
A dreamy waltz starts to play and Snow takes her gingerly in his arms, her posture stiff as a piece of wood. He leads her along while the crowd simpers, sniffling into their handkerchiefs as they watch in rapt attention. It saddens me to say that I catch Effie doing this while Haymitch manages to look surly and disgusted all at once. I have no idea where Johanna and Finnick are at but I'm willing to bet Johanna's expression looks something like Haymitch's.
Mercifully, the waltz comes to an early end and Snow bows while Katniss curtsies, the same frozen smile plastered on her face once more. The guests go wild, clapping and cheering, some even crying and my mind can't help but be boggled.
As a result, I chug down the remnants of my drink and ask for another. Haymitch's face splits into a smile as he pats my arm, nodding his head proudly.
"Atta boy," he chortles, ordering another drink for himself.
I hear Snow begin to speak so I down the drink in one single go and groan as I slam the glass down a little too excitedly. Before I know it, the ballroom's gone quiet and they're all staring in my direction, Katniss included. I turn to look at Haymitch, all mirth gone from his face, and then back at Snow. His snake-like eyes are bright and there's a cruel curve to his lips while Katniss' face has lost most of its color.
"I think he wants you to dance with her," Haymitch whispers tightly.
"Well, it's a good thing I've been drinking then," I murmur.
I take a deep breath and saunter all the way to the dance floor, making sure not to trip over the garland of white flowers decorating it.
"There he is, Mr. Mellark everybody!" Snow calls out, his puffy lips stretched out into a wide (freakish) smile.
He stretches his hand out and I have no other choice but to clasp in mine but before I can get loose, pulls me into a hug. I want nothing more than to rip myself from his embrace but I play along. He finally pulls away and gives me another smile before turning to the crowd again and speaking.
Oh, boy… I really shouldn't have drank the liquor like that. Trust Haymitch to get me drunk so early into this damned wedding. To be fair, he didn't force the drinks into my hand… it was all on me. Well, I need something to dull my feelings and senses… although it seems like it's all about to get put to the test right now.
A slow waltz begins to play and I turn to Katniss, extending my hand out to her. She reaches out and places her hand in mine and I pull her in gently to me. Her face is blank but her eyes are a pair of smoldering coals and as always, I can't look away.
"Congratulations," I whisper to her.
She wrinkles her nose at me, breaking the mask on her face as she stares at me with disapproval.
"What?"
"You've been drinking," she says accusingly.
"What do you expect, sweetheart? The woman I love just got married," I tell her breathily, leaning closer to her.
I feel a shiver run down her back but she doesn't pull away or scold me, which I take it to be a good thing. She finally pulls her face away slightly to look at me and there's such sadness in her eyes that it makes my own heart heavy with it.
"There's no going back now," she says softly, looking away.
"To my defense, I did offer for us to run away," I joke, giggling.
Katniss turns to me with a befuddled expression on her face but soon the corners of her lips curl up.
"You're so much more beautiful when you smile, Katniss. You should do it more often," I tell her with a lopsided smile.
Oh, shit. Am I drunk? Why can I not control what is spilling from my mouth? Damn you, Haymitch, I hope you choke on whatever it is you're drinking right now.
She grins at me, her cheeks coloring slightly.
"While I don't approve that you've been drinking, it's nice to see you like this," she says, her pewter eyes burning into mine.
"What? It's nice seeing me drunk?" I laugh.
She laughs softly along with me but shakes her head.
"No. But rather seeing you loosened up and honest. You always seem to be holding your thoughts and feelings close to your heart," she says, squeezing me gently.
Any giddiness I felt at having her in my arms and smiling vanishes slowly. She senses the change in me and gives me an apologetic little smile.
"Only because I didn't want to get hurt," I murmur, sighing ironically.
Her face pales, her eyes widening in astonishment as the song comes to an end. I force a brilliant smile on my face as I bow to her and press a kiss onto the back of her hand. I turn and nod to the crowd, raising my hand to wave at them and they start clapping and cheering for me. I stumble back to Haymitch in a daze, who looks as though like he doesn't know how to feel: outraged on my behalf or amused at watching me stumble throughout my dance with Katniss.
"Boy, maybe you should slow down," he tells me, tilting his head as he observes me.
"Ha! That's rich, Haymitch, coming from you," I snort, tossing back a shot of something red and cinnamon-y.
"I know, I know," he chuckles. "But you should be careful. I saw the girl grinning like a chimp and only one thing could have elicited that reaction out of her."
"I was just being a classic fool," I murmur, sighing heavily and turning around to watch her.
My view of Katniss is abruptly blocked by a woman wearing a glittering golden dress. I'm about to glare up at her when I'm struck by how familiar her smiling face is.
"Peeta, what pleasant surprise!"
"Lavinia? Wow, it's… you look great. What are the odds of you…" I trail off, a bad feeling sinking down my stomach.
"I know! I can't believe it. I'm so happy to be here, though and even happier to run into you," she smiles attractively at me.
"Yeah, me too," I tell her lamely.
This cannot be good. I'm willing to bet all my paints and canvases back home that Snow only brought her in to make Katniss… what? Jealous? Upset? Angry?
"You look very handsome, Peeta," she smiles, looking at me appreciatively up and down.
I feel heat rise to my cheeks and smile shyly at her.
"Thanks, Lavinia. You look very beautiful too," I tell her truthfully.
She looks down coquettishly before meeting my eyes again.
"So, are you going to get me a drink or not?" she teases.
"Oh, right! I apologize," I chuckle. "What would you like to drink?"
She peers at the bottles of liquor curiously but the waiters with the champagne flutes soon catch her eye.
"Champagne, please. It looks so delicious. I've never seen champagne fizz like that," she muses.
I grab one from a passing waiter and hand it to her.
"It really is. I've already had one," I tell her.
"That and what else?" she smiles, winking at me.
Heat rises to my face once more and I look away, fidgeting with my sleeve.
"Hey, it's a party with an open bar. Who can blame you, right?" she titters.
"Right," I respond under my breath, shame beginning to burn through my veins and mingling with the alcohol I've consumed.
"So, I saw you walk Katniss down the aisle. The both of you looked rather… striking," she says innocently.
"Oh? You think so?" I murmur, looking away from said lady.
I can feel her watching me but I refuse to look back at her; my cheeks are burning as it is.
"Peeta… it's more than obvious that you're in love with her. I haven't known you for long yet it was one of the first things I noticed about you. Other than your wonderful charm," she smiles, raising her glass to me.
"Lavinia… I—"
"You don't need to explain yourself, Peeta. The heart wants what the heart wants," she says wistfully. "Still, I hope that won't stop us from being friends."
Wait, what? Did this woman imply that she likes me? Why would she? I'm a complete mess. Not only do I love a woman who may or may not love me, but said woman just got married to a gentleman of questionable morals…
She's staring at me, the corner of her lips twitching.
"Oh, damn. Did I say that out loud?" I murmur, rubbing the back of my neck.
"You did, but don't worry, I didn't hear a thing," she laughs, taking a sip of her champagne. "I'd ask for a dance but I'm afraid you'd trip over your own feet. No offense."
"None taken."
"Why don't we take a walk for now?" she suggests, reaching out for my arm.
"Sounds lovely."
She weaves her arm through mine and we walk away from the bar section, watching as the wedding guests turn to look at us and whisper.
"Let's hope the air clears some of the clutter going on in your head," she smiles, though I can see the seriousness of the statement reflected in her eyes.
Lord, I really need to get a grip on my tongue. I'm just lucky I wasn't overheard by the wrong person. Speaking of which… where'd Haymitch go? It's like he suddenly disappeared. Maybe he just wanted to give me some time alone with Lavinia.
"Ooh, look!" she squeals suddenly, stopping in her tracks.
She pulls me to a table covered in white silk, adorned with the same flower garland as the table with the fruit platters. Only that the platters on this table are full of mini cakes decorated decadently. They capture my attention right away and Lavinia coos all over them, pressing her fingers against her mouth as she looks at them, indecisive over which one to pick.
In one platter there's rows and rows of mini cakes covered in cream fondant with lace decoration at the base; there's tiny (edible) pearls, giving the lace an embroidered look. Sitting atop the cake is a tiny bouquet of white roses. All of the other platters contain a variation of the first mini cakes I saw, but the only thing they have in common is the white roses. There are also towers of mini pies on each corner of the table: apple, cherry, blueberry and something that looks bright green and succulent.
Lavinia finally comes to a decision and nimbly plucks cakes, setting them in a plate. She turns to me and I raise my eyebrow in question, unable to stop myself from giggling.
Damnit, Peeta, hold yourself together man.
"What now?"
"You're going to eat all those cakes?"
"Don't be ridiculous, Peeta. Some are for you too," she says, rolling her eyes as she pulls me towards the garden.
Her words surprise me and I stop as she turns to look at me curiously.
"What is it, Peeta?"
"That's... very thoughtful of you. I don't think..." I clear my throat and look away, shuffling my feet in embarrassment. "Thank you, Lavinia. I truly appreciate that you thought of me too."
A smile softens her features and the wisps of hair on her temples brush against her cheeks, making me curious what it would feel like to–
No, stop it, Mellark. Don't even go there. Things are complicated enough as it is.
We sit down on a flower adorned bench and taste the tiny confection.
"My goodness! This is so good," she laughs, staring at the tiny cake in her hand with disbelief.
I nod, taking another bite of the mini chocolate cake with chocolate ganache and drizzled with caramel.
"I must get a recipe... or something. You think I could pull some strings, being a victor and whatnot," I chuckle, taking another bite of the morsel. "Is that one any good?"
"Oh, yes... here," she says, offering to feed me a bit of the cake she was having.
I lean back slightly and look down at the cake in her hand but not before looking up at her face. She looks hurt and slightly disappointed and it makes me feel guilty for not biting. I turn my head away slightly and shake my head.
"I'm so sorry, Lavinia. It's really not you. You see, there's a custom back home–"
"–where the newlyweds feed each other bits of toast after getting married. So you understand why it made Peeta uncomfortable," a voice rings out.
My heart just about stops as I see Katniss step towards us with a steely look in her eye.
Lavinia's posture straightens and she forces a smile on her face as she surveys Katniss.
"Mrs. Snow."
"Please, just call me Katniss," says she with a laugh, waving her hand airily.
"Katniss," Lavinia corrects herself. "That dress is quite something."
Katniss comes to a stop a few feet away from us and I can see her tighten her jaw, as though to control what wants to burst from her mouth. Instead, she giggles but it doesn't quite reach her eyes; they remain steely and sharp.
"Well, I didn't exactly choose it. Of course, anything Cinna creates is a masterpiece and I'm just lucky to be wearing it," she answers graciously enough.
"It's very..." Lavinia's eyes rove the dress. "...flamboyant."
"Well, one of them had to be," Katniss says with a shrug. "But anyway, so good of you to come."
"Thank you for inviting me," Lavinia says, giving Katniss a nod.
"I didn't," Katniss replies, sounding anything but genial.
Uh-oh... what is going on? Is this some sort of female showdown?
Katniss response seems to leave Lavinia mute because she just goggles at her, mouth half-open.
"Very smart for the two of you to come out here. It is rather stuffy in there, is it not? Still, from your laughter I could tell you were having fun. How could you not, with Peeta by your side?" she asks, turning to look at me. "Would you mind giving us a few moments alone, please Ms. Mare?"
She gulps and places the plate of cakes in the small space between us. She looks at me and I can almost see her telling me not to do anything stupid; she bows her head at Katniss before leaving us alone.
"She seems like a nice girl," Katniss speaks suddenly.
"She is."
"She likes you."
"I... don't know. It certainly comes across that way, right?" I say, turning to look up at her.
There's a deep line between her brows and the corners of her lips are turned down.
"It's nice to hear you laughing... and not in the drunk way like you did earlier," she whispers, licking her lips.
"Katniss..."
"Peeta, I want you to be happy."
"You're asking for the impossible," I sigh, looking down at my hands.
She groans in frustration and takes the seat next to me; she's so close that I can feel her body warmth radiating off of her along with a most enticing scent.
"She could make you happy, Peeta," she tells me urgently.
"Are you seriously trying to set me up with a woman on your wedding day?" I scoff, glaring up at her.
This seems to take her aback because she leans away, eyes wide. They soften and roam my face before finally settling on my eyes.
"I seem to have taken away every bit of your happiness," she whispers. "Let me give you a little in return."
"There's nothing you can give me, Katniss," I sigh wearily. "Especially not happiness with another woman."
She bites her lip before looking away.
"You seem more sober now."
"It's not going to last long," I murmur, picking up a cake and stuffing it into my mouth.
"Peeta, that is very unlike you."
"What do you expect from me, Katniss? To be a nice little puppet and smile and play nice all the while you're married to another man? I think not," I reply hotly.
She glances at me and frowns but not before something seems to catch her eye. Her lips quiver and for a moment I wonder if she's going to burst into tears but receive the surprise of my life when she bursts into laughter.
"What is it?" I ask gruffly.
"You have some..." she raises her hand to her cheek.
I scowl at her and I'm about to rub my cheek when she stops me, her slim fingers wrapping around mine.
"Don't. You'll just get even more smeared. Let me," she offers.
Her touch sent my heart racing and the thought of her touching me...well, it makes me feel weak in the knees.
She gives my fingers a gentle squeeze before releasing them and gently brushes her thumb against my cheek. Although her eyes should be focused on the chocolate, not once do they leave my own. I get the urge to lean my cheek into her hand but consider it most unwise and can almost hear Haymitch calling me colorful names for succumbing to my desires. Next she very gently brushes her other thumb against the corner of my mouth before licking whatever chocolate morsel she wiped from there. My face flames up and I can't stop staring at her; twilight is upon us but I can detect that her face is flushed as well.
"Delicious," she whispers huskily. "The cakes are really... delicious."
My heart just about leaps up through my throat and all I can do is stare dumbly at her. The twinkle lights all around the garden are now working their full potential, surrounding us in an ethereal glow. Looking at her now makes me feel as though I've never truly appreciated just how beautiful she is; yes, I've fawned at her beauty time after time but I've never really understood just how much until now.
"Katniss, I–"
"Ah, there's my lovely bride."
If Katniss has the voice of an angel, then this surely must be the voice of the devil himself.
Katniss leans away from me and straightens her posture, whipping her head around to look at Snow. He's looking at us with an expression that can only be described as smug and it makes me want nothing more than to have the pleasure of wiping it off... but for the sake of Katniss and my family, I merely smile back.
"President Snow, what a lovely wedding. I must commend you on your impeccable taste," I nod, gesturing with my hand to our surroundings.
He laughs and nods, extending his hand out to Katniss, who takes it immediately. He pulls her up with surprising strength and looks down at me with an even smugger smile.
"Yes, I do don't I? I'm sorry, but I must steal my bride away... I'm afraid guests have begun to notice her absence and we can't have that, can we? If you'll excuse us, Mr. Mellark. But perhaps later on the two of you can share another dance again," he offers graciously.
He sweeps her away before I can even answer and I'm left alone in the garden of hell with my heart thundering in my ears.
"Peeta! What the fu– ouch! Okay, okay... what the hell are you doing out here?" Johanna asks, rubbing her arm.
I look up and there stand Johanna and Finnick with an alarmed expression on their faces.
"We saw Snow practically drag in Katniss and we only guessed who was out here," she tells me, glancing over at Finnick.
"Are you okay?" Finnick asks me quietly.
"As fine as I'll ever be," I tell them, swallowing back the lump in my throat.
They seem to see past my charade but don't offer any words of wisdom. Instead, Finnick extends his hand out to me.
"Come on, Haymitch's waiting for us back at the bar. He said you had an eye on the absinthe... we're all dying to have some with you," he grins at me.
I can't help but smile back at him and take his hand; he pulls me up effortlessly and then claps me on the back as we walk back into the ballroom.
"Absinthe, is that what the green one is called?" I ask, turning to them. "Have you ever tried some?"
"Oh, yeah," Johanna cackles. "Those were good times, huh, Finn?"
Finnick gets a devilish look in his eye and winks at me.
"There you are, I was getting worried about you," Haymitch scolds me.
"I'm sorry."
"No matter, you're here now. Time to get rip roaring drunk," he smiles placidly.
Katniss, I know you warned against it, but... what else can I do? I'm not going to mope in the corner and I most certainly will not project my of my feelings for you on her. This is happiness, in its own twisted way.
We drink some whiskey as a warm-up and end up taking some tequila shots after that. We're all pretty giggly as the bartender works on our absinthe and I watch in fascination how he lights the sugar cubes up.
"For some reason, that part really annoys Finn," Johanna says, leaning across him rolling her eyes.
"Those are perfectly good sugar cubes–"
"Oh, shut it."
If I thought the whiskey burned, it was nothing in comparison to the absinthe.
I was right, it is poisonous. No wonder it's a bright green color; it tells people to stay the hell away. Or to draw them in: the deadliest predator.
Haymitch orders us some of the black liquor and before I know it, the world is swimming before me. Yet, I'm still upright and something lucid. I can hear everything that's going on yet I feel like I'm in a daze.
Is this what it's like for Haymitch? I suppose it wouldn't be a bad alternative to to the horrible reality that I'll be facing soon. Oh, shit... the third Quarter Quell. I can't believe I almost forgot about that. Well, that certainly puts everything in perspective, doesn't it?
"To booze," Haymitch slurs, raising his glass. "She'll let us down yet."
Soon, everything becomes a blur.
Ruh-roh.
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