Well, due to my forgetfulness...this chapter is two weeks late. My bad. Plus I've been working on Daughter of the Pack.

Oh well. Please enjoy this never before seen peek into the Capitol :D

While our tributes are training, the victors spend the day courting sponsors, exploring the shopping district around the Training Center, giving interviews, or hanging out in the Training Center. As long as someone is there to watch the tributes when they arrive back from training at 6pm, we have full days of things to do.

Finnick has an…appointment to head to and he gives me a glum look as we part ways on the street. He goes to his transportation vehicle and I tentatively make my way towards the stores.

I've never been the shopping type and I didn't know we were allowed to…roam like this so I didn't think to bring money with me, but I've got a square piece of plastic in my pocket that they call a "credit card" and apparently each victor gets one every visit. It's what most of the Capitol residents use to buy stuff. They're too good for coins and paper money, I guess. Brats. Anyway, our cards of credit have no spending limit. We can buy what we want, do what we want, go where we want within a reasonable boundary, as long as someone meets the tributes at 6. But, since it's my first time here, I don't have that duty.

Beril says if I dress like a District 4 girl—or talk like one—I will stick out like one, which will bring me sorts of attention I don't want. I just want to…watch. I don't want to deal with anything close to what I dealt with my last night here last year. But I don't want to dress like a Capitol freak so I try to compromise with myself. It's summertime so I can wear a swimsuit. I choose a light blue two-peace that covers what I want covered so I don't look like a Hook but shows a nice amount of skin like the few Capitol teenagers I've seen prefer, and a see-through light pink wrap and split-toe sandals called "flip-flops." I wonder if any of them will recognize me without my makeup on or without my face smeared with dirt.

The first shop I venture into is a bakery. When I open the door, a cool dinging sound echoes through the shop.

Behind the counter stands a young man with brown, yellow streaked hair to match the color of this year's Games. Unsure of how to greet him, I just smile and lean down to study his creations. I glance up at him every few seconds, wondering why he looks so…well…human. The only altered thing about him seems to be the pretty, light brown designs drawn around his emerald eyes and the hair dye.

The pastries themselves are more decorated. The designs made from different frostings of every shade of color, pushed out from different nozzles. Cookies, cakes, muffins, cupcakes, doughnuts, and delicacies I can't even name.

"Can I help you find something, miss?" he asks.

"Oh, I'm just looking."

I hear him inhale sharply and I tense, listening for an enemy, then I realize I forgot to fake a Capitol accent. He undoubtedly recognized my district accent. I force myself to look up and meet his startled green gaze.

His eyes search my face and I see his face relax with familiarity. "Dylan Syle."

I smile and straighten up. "That's me."

"Well," the man bows like they often do respectfully in the Capitol. I feel honored. "To what do I owe this great pleasure?"

"Boredom," I say. "Curiosity. This is such a strange place to me. I want to understand."

"Understand?"

"Your world. It's so different from mine."

"And you're so different off camera." He comments, looking me up and down. "I would've thought you a Capitol citizen if you hadn't spoken."

"I know. I meant to fake an accent."

"Well, can I get you anything?" He gestures to the array of goodies in the case that separated us.

I survey them again then carefully ask, "You didn't put anything crazy in them, did you?"

"They're no different than anything you can order in the Center." He promises. "Just made by different hands."

"Can I have that?" I pointed to a chocolate muffin with chocolate sprinkled on top.

The man presses a button and the glass slides up. The tray extends forward, presenting me with a selection of chocolate muffins to choose from. I select one and take a bite as the tray returns to place. It's delicious, like a tiny chocolate cake. The chips of chocolate break apart easily and trickle of liquid chocolate bursts in my mouth. The man waits expectantly, almost hopefully.

I smile at him. "This is delicious. I've never seen anything like these in the bakeries back home."

"Really?" the man asks.

I shake my head. "We don't have all the resources you do."

"I guess that's true," he says somberly. "Well, is there anything else I can get you?"

"I'd buy the whole store if I could," I say. "Speaking of which, what do I owe you?" I reached into the bag around my waist and feel around for the credit card. My fingers brush the knife concealed in there for a moment then I pull out the rectangular piece of plastic.

"I have this. But um… I'm not sure how to use it." I say. "We use paper and coins in District 4."

"Oh, well here." He beckons me over to what I think is the register. He points to a screen in front with a thin place underneath it where I'm supposed to swipe the card. The screen flickers to life and in the place labeled "picture" there is the seal of District 4. Under name it lists me as "HGV."

"On a normal card it has the picture of the proper owner, their name, and address. For you, of course…" he gestures to the screen. "And now there is a thumbprint scan to authenticate so, just place your thumb right here." He points to a seemingly pointless black square on the counter.

Carefully, I press my left thumb and then "authenticated" flashes across the screen and then next to "Account Balance" there is a 'UL,' for unlimited. The baker presses a few buttons on his end and smiles.

"Normally, you would see a deduction under the account balance, but you have no limit. Can I get you anything else?"

I scan the shelves again then pause and look up. "Can you make chocolate sponge cake?"

"I certainly can."

"Hmmm. Do you think you could make one and have it delivered on the day of the interviews? Sponge cake is a favorite back home and we almost never get chocolate. I want Annie and Seaborne to have some before they go into the arena."

"Of course!" he seems very pleased. "Is there any particular way you'd like it?"

"Do you know the common recipe for it in District 4?"

"No, I'm afraid I don't." he says. "Do you?"

"Actually, I do." I say. "Where's your recipe?"

"Wait here," he says and disappears into the back of the shop. He returns moments later with a sheet of paper and hands it to me.

I scan the page, looking at the ingredients, preparation process, and cooking time. "That's pretty much the same, except we use a full tablespoon of salt."

"That's doable." He takes it back and scribbles something down with a pen.

"One more thing," I say. "What's your name?"

"Fleck Caske," he says, bowing again. "It's an honor to meet you."

"I'll tell Lillian that—"

The door opens and the bell chimes a warning. A mother walks in with her two daughters and the younglings make a beeline for the sweet display.

"Ah…I will tell her that we are expecting the cake and to keep it a secret." I say with my best attempt of the Capitol accent.

Fleck Caske smiles. "I will do my best." He bows once again and winks then I hurry from the counter, past the mother who is looking at me curiously, and out of the shop. It's nearly eleven in the morning and the people are beginning to venture into the streets. In the Capitol, they sleep late and stay up late.

In the next store, I purchase a pair of clear-rimmed sunglasses that a machine dyes to match my outfit. In a jewelry store I buy a pretty necklace made of shells and a silver chain with a small blue topaz gem on the end from an elderly woman who recognizes me instantly.

"Your hair," she says when I ask. "It's so pretty. The way it frames your face is unique. And you…walk differently than most girls your age that live here. They are such ditzy things. We had more brains in my day." She grumbles.

"You sound like my grandma did," I say, giggling. The woman laughs.

It's easy to enjoy myself if I forget that the people I'm mingling with will soon be cheering for the deaths of the twenty-four tributes. As the hours pass, it becomes and easier. My accent comes more naturally, I find myself correcting little quirks in my mannerisms to blend in better, and I only have to be a victor when they swipe my credit card and realize who I am. Most of them can tell I want to stay in disguise because they react quietly and don't call attention. There are a few over exuberant people—mostly other patrons—who see what pops up on the screen and freak out. I actually get asked for my autograph a few times. I tell most of them no, as nicely as I can, but when an awestruck eight-year-old holds up a pen and asks me to sign her shirt, I find I can't refuse. I just don't understand the fascination these people have with having my name on their clothing.

I have to buy a bag to store my goodies in. I chose a light brown beaded bag, pay for it, smile at the excited girl behind the counter, and flee from the shop. When the sun starts to set I decide to head back to the Center and start walking the way I came, before I realize I have noidea where I am. I stand on the edge of the colorful sidewalk, looking around nervously, before a boy, who looks around my age, stops beside me.

"Do you need help?" he asks.

I turn my head and find myself looking into pretty, mismatched eyes—one green and one gray—on a smooth, oval-shaped, tattooed face framed with spiky orange hair, which has bright yellow streaks through it.

"Um, kind of," I say, suddenly shy. "I'm lost."

"Lost?" the boy laughs. "Don't you have your CIM?"

"Um…what?" I say stupidly. What's a CIM?

He sighs. "Did you loose it?"

I sigh and pull off my glasses, letting him see my face properly. "What's a CIM?" I ask in my normal voice.

The boy blinks rapidly. "Oh. Oh."

I slip the glasses back on and smile once. With the Capitol accent, "Well?"

"City Interface Map," he says briskly. "Are you looking for the Training Center?"

"Yes," I say. "I've been out here for hours; I have no idea where I am."

"I can take you, Dylan." He says and bows slightly.

'Well, well, well.' Garret says.

"Thank you," I say in relief.

"My name is Sol." He says, bowing again.

"Sol, huh, that's odd."

"Why?" he asks defensively.

"No, I mean, that's a District 4 name." I say.

"Really?"

"Yeah, it means sun."

Sol smiles, "I know. But how does that make it a District 4 name?"

"It's not one you hear many other places. We have so much sunlight in District 4."

"Well, what about Dylan? Is that a District 4 name?"

"Actually, yes. My name means 'One who is born from the sea.'"

"Yep, that's District 4," he laughs. "Now, let's see. The quickest way back to the Training Center…oh! Now, pay attention, Dylan. This is how you get a ride here in the Capitol." He sticks his hand up and waves at an oncoming car. "Taxi!" he hollers.

"What's a taxi?"

"It's a car that drives you around for a fee."

"Oh, we have those in 4," I say. "Never really use them myself, though."

A bright yellow car sporting an advertisement for the Hunger Games on the side pulls to a stop and the door slides open.

"In you go," Sol says. I climb in nervously and Sol follows.

The driver presses a button and the door slides smoothly shut. "Where can I take you?" he asks politely.

"The Hunger Games Training Center, please," Sol says.

The taxi driver turns around in his seat and looks at Sol, so evidently a Capitol boy with his artificially colored hair and tattoos, then at me, a girl with long naturally red hair and no evident physical altercations.

"Yes, she's a victor," Sol says calmly. "And she needs to get to the Training Center as quicklyas possible."

He raises one eyebrow at the driver who nods once. "And um, how will you be paying for the fee?"

Sol reaches into his pocket but I'm faster and I hand the driver my card. He swipes it, the generic information flashes up, and he returns the card.

"You didn't have to do that," Sol says once the car is moving. "I could've paid."

I smile. What a gentleman. I smile again, more brightly this time. "No, it's alright. They pay for everything we buy—no limits."

He arches one eyebrow again. "Really? Lucky."

"Oh yes," I say mildly. "I kill some kids and they give me all the money I could ever need. I'm the luckiest nineteen-year-old in the world."

Sol frowns. "But don't you want to do that? I mean, don't your tributes volunteer?"

"Yes," I say carefully and glance at the driver who's watching me out of the mirror above his head. "But none of us ever can understand what it's like until we're there. It wasn't what I expected."

"Didn't expect to have an ally?"

No. I never expected to be allied with Garret. Or anybody outside of the Career alliance, for that matter. I didn't expect to torture a little boy to death. I didn't expect to make a friend and then have to kill her. I didn't expect to get hunted by rats.

"Not really," I say in a measured voice.

"Ok, I can see this is an uncomfortable subject. Um. Moving on! What have you been doing all day?"

"Shopping," I say. "It's actually kind of fun."

We chat with each other, giggling like kids, until the car arrives at the Center. The driver thanks us for choosing his company and opens the door for us. He speeds away the moment we're on the pavement. I start to walk towards the door of the Training Center, then I hesitate, not exactly willing to leave my new friend just yet. Likewise, Sol seems somewhat reluctant. He stands on the sidewalk with his hands in his pockets.

"I can't go inside," he says.

"I figured," I reply. The silence that follows is a bit uncomfortable.

"Hey, um… do you want to…" he trails off, unsure of himself, so unlike any Capitol person I've met. I tilt my head, waiting. "Would you mind…um…?"

"Speak, boy!" I laugh.

Sol smiles, "Are you doing anything tomorrow?"

"Not that I know of," I say.

"Then, would you like to hang out?" he asks hopefully.

"Sure," I say, delighted by the idea of having a friend.

"Great! I know some neat places I think you'd like."

"Alright."

"Great," he repeats, grinning up at me like an excited kid. "I'll meet you here around ten."

"So late?" I wrinkle my nose.

"Late? That's actually kind of early."

"I get up at sunrise," I say matter-of-factly. "Life is different when you have to work for your next meal. I wasn't born with a victor's winnings, you know."

Back on the 4th floor, Beril is waiting for me. Leaning against the wall with her arms folded across her chest, she looks me up and down twice then nods to herself. She pushes some of her straight black hair behind her ear. "You're late."

"Late?" I frown, feeling like Sol for a moment.

"You were supposed to be here for dinner at six-thirty."

"Nobody told me!"

"Hmm. Well, go put your stuff down and head into the dining room. There's still food."

I stick my tongue out at her as I walk past and march into my room. I kick off my sandals, toss my bags down, remove my jewelry and sunglasses, then walk barefoot to the dining room. Finnick is the first one to see me coming in. He stares for a second, then roars with laughter.

I glare, "Go jump out the window, Finnick."

"What? And risk messing up this pretty face? Criminal."

"Didn't we already have this conversation?"

"Did we? I don't recall."

"Yeah, we did," I say, remembering. "The other day. I said I'd be down as soon as I was dressed and you figured I would take ages to get ready and figured you should order a meal while you waited."

"Oh yes." He nods. "Well, I was right, wasn't I?"

"No! I was down in three minutes!"

"Hmm," he frowns, but his eyes glitter with amusement. I take a seat next to him and only then do I notice Annie and Seaborne on the other side of the table. Seaborne has one eyebrow raised at me and Annie is giving me a very strange look.

"Where are the others?" I ask.

"Ah, who knows?" Finnick shrugs. "Beril and I are on babysitting duty. I'm surprised you came back so early. First night of freedom in the Capitol and all."

I frown. "Beril said I was late."

Finnick sighs. "She's just being herself. Trust me, you could've come back at midnight and anyone else would've asked why you were so early."

I glare towards the dining room door where I'm sure I hear a quiet chuckle.

"What have you been doing all day, Dylan?" Annie asks.

"Visiting the local stores," I say. "They've got some cool stuff here and I've got unlimited money to spend."

"I figured you'd enjoy that part," Finnick mutters and spoons some soup into his mouth.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I bristle and Finnick pats my head like I'm a puppy. I swipe at his hand.

"Oh eat," Finnick instructs, pushing my plate towards me. I stick my tongue out at him but I do surrender and pile roast beef, mashed potatoes, and yeast rolls onto my plate. I'm about to take a bite when a fork pokes me in my side.

I squeak and jump away, nearly slipping off my seat. "Finnick!"

"Sit up straight; you're setting a bad example for our tributes."

I bare my teeth at him. "Marrian and Reno didn't treat you like this."

"No, they didn't, but I've been coming here for years and I learned my manners before my training year." He lowers his voice. "So sit up straight and try to act like you know what you're doing."

I glare at him and grab a roll, tearing a huge chunk out with my teeth and chew with my mouth open, all the while never leaving his amused gaze.

"You two are weird." Seaborne says matter-of-factly.

I swallow my roll and lean forward, frowning at him. "Well, considering we've both reached near insanity once in our life, we have a right to be."

"Sit up straight, Dilly." Finnick murmurs playfully.

I sigh and shoot him a look.

"I'm going to my room." Annie stands up and, without another word, walks out of the dining room.

"Well, what's her problem?" Seaborne asks.

I look at Finnick and see my grimace mirrored on his face. I wonder how the whole exchange looked to Annie. There were rumors about Finnick and me back home; no doubt she herself has heard one or two of them. But has she believed them? A mutual understanding passes between us in that moment. We have to be more careful. Teenage hearts and minds can jump to the wrong conclusions very easily. Especially desperate ones.

The following day, Annie and Seaborne head down to training and I call Alaina for help. She shows up, wide-awake and ready, five minutes later. I explain the previous day and Sol.

"Well, I'm glad you're having fun, but Dylan, be cautious." She holds up her hand. "He cannot go to District 4 just as you cannot live here."

It takes me a second, then I realize she's telling me not to get romantically involved. Honestly, it hadn't crossed my mind once. …Ok maybe once. But I'm not considering it.

"Oh, Alaina, I know," I smile. "I wouldn't be able to live with someone who thinks 10am is early in the morning, anyway."

Alaina laughs and pats me on the cheek. "Alright, so what exactly am I needed for?"

"What to wear? I have noidea what Capitol girls wear! I'd like to blend in."

Alaina whisks me into my closet. She flits through the clothes, talking quickly. "Yellow is the color of this year's Games so I think you will wear yellow." She tosses me a yellow top that, when I put it on, only comes down about an inch past my breasts. Then she tosses me some dark denim shorts and strange yellow sandals with straps which loop around my ankles and wrap around my shins.

In the bathroom, she carefully paints gold and silver designs onto my hands, looping the patterns around my fingers and trailing into slivers on my wrists. Then she paints lines and dots around my eyes with the same colors.

"I feel like a sprite," I say.

"Sprite?" Alaina says curiously.

"A sprite," I say. "Faeries, little winged people. Earth sprites, air sprites, fire sprites, water sprites…"

Alaina looks thoughtful. "And they…are common in your district?"

"Common in our stories, yes."

"Hmm. You have given me an idea. Do you think Annie would look good as a sprite?"

"She'll look good in anything you design," I say matter-of-factly.

"Well, have fun, Dylan, I'm going to see what I can find about water sprites…" she says, almost distractedly, as she drifts from the room.

I pluck my brown bag off the bed, check to make sure the card and knife are still in there, throw it over my shoulder, and sprint to the elevators.

Sol shows up a bit after ten and, despite what I said, seems surprised to see me wide-awake and waiting patiently.

"Morning," I say brightly.

Sol stares at my face. "Who did that?"

"This?" I gesture to the art on my face. "Alaina, my old stylist; I asked her to help me blend in. Now she's off designing Annie's interview outfit. So, where are we headed?"

"The park."

I tilt my head to the side. "What's a park?"

It turns out that a park is a section of the city that is sanctioned off, kept so as not to be urbanized. Trees and grass cover everything, there's a playground made of plastic and metal, swings, stone pathways, bicycle paths, and enclosures with animals inside. I feel like a little kid again, walking with Luke into the training gym for the first time and seeing all the new toys. The small bows and arrows, the covered swords, the heavy balls, the ropes, the bars… But, in a way, this is a thousand times better. Everywhere I can see children and their families. Teenage girls, people myage not training to kill someone, lounging on benches, hanging by the swings, applying makeup, looking down at devices in their hands, staring at boys…

"You okay?" Sol asks me.

I nod. "This is all so…strange."

"You mean…you have nothing like this in your district?"

"No," I whisper. "We play on rocks, the docks, in trees, in the sand, and water…and there aren't animal enclosures."

"That's called a zoo. Some of those animals can't be found anywhere else in Panem."

"I want to go everywhere!" I say, my enthusiasm evident in my voice.

"Where first?"

I look at the different paths before me and at the sign that points the destination of each for a long minute, thinking carefully, and then I dart down the path that leads to a playground. Sol follows without complaint. When I round the corner I see the playground is much larger and grander than I originally thought. There are several of them, all differently themed and designed. One of them is built around a large tree. Around all of it is a pit of sand to soften the falls of any unlucky kid. All artificial, all made of plastic and metal.

I pull off the weird sandals and jump gratefully into the sand. It feels different than the sand at home, but sand is sand and I'll be damned to say I don't enjoy feeling it between my toes again. I walk among the playgrounds and try to capture every detail with my eyes. Lana,oh,Lana,Iwishyoucouldseethis.YouandEvan.Youwouldlovethis.

"Excuse me." A tiny voice says below me and something tugs on the hem of my shorts. I find myself looking down at a little girl with blonde, yellow-streaked hair, and neon orange eyes. It takes me a second, but I recognize the voice. And the eyes.

"You!" I gasp.

The little girl who gave me the flute smiles, "I knew it! You're Dylan!"

"Shh!" I hiss, glancing around to make sure no one heard her. "I'm trying to not be recognized."

"Oh," the girl says, slightly downcast. "Well, you're not doing a good job. That's why I thought it was you. You're walking barefoot in the sand. No one does that, except the tots."

I frown. "Well, I better get my shoes, then."

"May I walk with you?" she asks, then seems to remember something and bows slightly.

"Of course," I say.

"Thank you." Another bow.

"You don't have to bow, really, kid," I say. "In District 4, this is how we recognize superiors or show respect."

I stand at attention, make a fist with my right hand and place it over my heart.

The little girl tries it, naturally, but then frowns. "Bowing is easier."

"Bowing in District 4 is showing the utmost respect—we don't have much need for that."

She follows me back to Sol who has retrieved my shoes and waits on the park bench.

"Who's she?" Sol asks.

"My number one fan," I tease. "She gave me a flute last year after my Games, which I still have, by the way."

The little girl beams. "I'm Chrysanthemum."

"That's a mouthful," I tell her.

"You can call me Chrissie if you want. A lot of people do."

I get my shoes on. Chrysanthemum then takes it on herself to show me around the playground. The best places to climb or hide during hide-and-seek. The best slides.

She jumps down the chute of a particularly large one and after realizing that her squeals were ones of delight, not terror, I plunge in after her. The air whooshes past me and I experience a brief feeling of weightless elation. The roof stops abruptly about halfway down. All too soon, I'm at the bottom and I fly off the metal, stumble a bit, and I catch myself.

"Wow!" I giggle. That was better than any slides we'd constructed back home.

"You've never been down a slide?" Chrissie asks incredulously.

"Not one like that," I say regretfully.

"Excuse me," Sol says from behind us. "But I'm afraid I need to steal Dylan now."

I turn around and smile at Sol. "Getting bored?"

Sol smiles and pushes some of his orange hair out of his face. "A bit, and there's a lot more to see."

"Alright," I kneel down next to Chrissie and pull her into a hug. "It was very nice to finally meet you, Chrissie."

"Likewise," Chrissie hugs me back then bows when she's out of my arms.

I start to do the same, then I stop myself. No. I am a District 4 girl, I do not bow. I move to attention then thump my fist over my heart and bow my head just a bit.

"Everybody here loves victors," Sol says as we head down a walking path.

"I can tell," I say. "It feels so…strange."

"Why?"

"It's not the same in the Districts—sweet Posiedon!" I gasp, realizing I am standing three feet from a creature I've only seen in once before in a Hunger Games. A lion. The great maned cat stares at me with the feline equivalent of a curious stare and I calm down when I realize he's behind a force field. How different I must look from the freaks he sees parading past his cage every day.

Sol laughs and welcomes me to the "zoo."

Dylan's awful ignorant isn't she? ^_^

Anyway, meet Sol everyone :) He's fairly important so get used to him.