"And now let's have a round of applause for Mikey Jonah!" Lynette announces. The audience complies, whistles and shouts coming from behind me. The applause continues for the next minute. However no tribute makes an entrance. Lynette repeats her introduction one more time. The boy again does not appear.

A stagehand wanders onto stage, and beckons Lynette towards him. He whispers something in her ear. Her dark black eyebrows come together in worry. After the stagehand disappears backstage, my best peacekeeper gets up from his seat to see what's taking so long.

Lynette takes the time to say something about there being some technical difficulties. Then she starts entertaining the audience with a couple of jokes. I tune her out, focusing on the peacekeeper coming back towards me.

"Word is one of the tributes passed out," he says. He brings his eyebrows together. "How pathetic."

Lynette walks off stage, returning half a minute later. "It appears that we have a sick contestant," she says. "But, we'll continue the interviews with Clarity May!"

There are some whispers that run through the audience. They're skipping the boy from 9? Or are they coming back to him? A tribute's interview has never been skipped before.

Clarity is definitely a beautiful girl. She enters wearing a long sleeved lime green dress that sweeps the floor as she walks elegantly across the stage. Her long dark hair runs down her back, her red lips are sculpted into a flawless smile. She should make a number of the capitol males pretty happy.

"Lynette," the girl nods in greeting as she takes a seat across from the host. "Well, this is a nice chair." She remarks, looking down at the purple seat. "Very comfortable. What do you say we just call the interviews off and let me stay here the rest of the night?" She grins as the audience laughs.

"Brought your sense of humor didn't you?"

"Oh yes. You want some?" Clarity puts her finger behind her ear as though about to pull something out.

"You should keep it. You'll be able to use it better than me, anyway. I don't have a funny bone in my body."

"What? Who told you that? I've been watching from backstage and I think you're absolutely mirthful, Lynette."

"Thanks you, Clarity," Lynette replies. The girl shrugs, running a hand through her beautiful dark hair.

"Don't mention it," she says, a playful glint in her green eyes.

"So, Clarity, explain to me how you pulled a 9 in training!"

The girl's grin grows even larger. "I have my ways."

"What do you think about your competition this year?"

Clarity takes a moment to mull over the question. "I think there are some very strong and very smart tributes. And I wouldn't count anyone out." Clarity certainly has one of the kinder answers to that particular question. After a short silence, she says very softly, "I don't think winning will be easy. But, I'm going to do everything I can to win."

As the girl's interview comes to an end, a group of teenage boys go insane clapping for her. She blows a quick kiss to one of the boys closest to the stage. The camera focuses on the boy as he pretends the catch the kiss, a huge grin on his face.

"Put your hands together for Friesian Wade!" Lynette shouts as the boy from 10 enters. He wears a gold suit that shines and glares in the stage lights like a second skin or an aura. He takes off his suit jacket as he takes a seat; probably because he wants to show off his rather impressive build for a thirteen-year-old. He pulls a rather unattractive half-smile as he makes eye contact with Lynette. "Hello, Friesian. How are you this evening?"

"I'm fine."

"Have you been watching from backstage?"

"Yes."

Lynette smiles. "So, how are you liking the capitol?"

"It's nice," he replies.

"You miss home?"

"No."

"Really? Well…that's convenient. You won't have to worry about homesickness getting to you."

"Yes. I won't." Friesian nods, curtly.

"Are you looking forward to the games?"

"Yes."

. "What aspect are you most looking forward to?"

"Seeing the arena."

"Are you nervous?"

"No. I'll win."

He continues answering her questions quickly, but without any elaboration. He's completely present during his interview, and yet there's something about his presence that suggests he really couldn't care less about speaking in front of the capitol. When his interview ends, he again puts on that unpleasant smile and shuffles off stage.

His partner, Halley, enters with a much more enthusiastic expression. She has a bounce in her step, an energy that helps revitalize the air after Friesian's very disinterested interview. She wears an aquamarine velvet dress with patterns made of pink lace. Her hair has been styled into a jumble of intricate twists, curls, and braids. A silver barrette sparkles in her brown hair.

"Halley Morris! It's a pleasure to see you."

"I'm super happy to see you too, Lynette," Halley says, smiling. "I've really been enjoying the capitol. It's very beautiful."

"I'm glad you've been enjoying yourself," Lynette replies. "You miss your family?"

"Oh Yes. I miss my father and my little brother, Joey. I miss them both so much."

"I'm sure they miss you, too," Lynette wears a slightly sad smile. "So…Halley…you got anyone special back home? And I'm not talking about your family. I mean a…special someone…" Lynette has that smile on. That excited, slightly devilish smile. The same kind of smile all women get when they talk about the crushes and other such time wasters. Halley shakes her head quickly, a blush appearing on her cheeks.

"No."

"Really? I see you blushing, girl. Come on, tell me. You're a very pretty girl. I'm sure whoever it is will be very happy to hear you like them."

"No. Really. It's no one." For the first time since the girl has walked on stage, she looks sad. Her lips turn down at the sides a little, and something very profound lies in her blue eyes.

"Do you have any talents the other tributes should watch out for?'

"Yes." The smile returns to the girl's face. "I have sticky fingers."

"Sticky fingers? Not literally, right?" Lynette asks, feigning a look of revulsion. The audience laughs.

Halley shakes her head, holding her hand up. "I mean that I'm stealthy. And I'm very good at staying unnoticed."

"That certainly is a good trait to have when you're in the games."

The buzzer goes off, and the girl exits stage to a respectable round of applause.

"And next let's welcome Falcon Dide!"

The boy from 11 enters wearing a brown suit. As he walks, his suit begins to change from the brown color of soil to the healthy green of plants. Somehow the lights on stage manipulate the colors. The audience lets out gasps of awe. His dark hair has been slicked back and the hat he wears casts a shadow across his handsome face.

"Welcome!" Lynette chirps as Falcon takes a seat. He nods in her direction, though does not actually utter a greeting.

"I have to ask, since your exit to the feast was quite something, what did the boy from district 1 say to you that night?"

"Nothing," he mumbles.

"Really? It didn't look like nothing. Usually people don't randomly jump out of their chairs and try to strangle other people over nothing."

The audience chuckles. Falcon doesn't even smile. Instead this dark glower oozes from his grey eyes.

"I said it was nothing." His tone is a little less passive than the first time. And though he still remains soft, there's a lot of heat in his words.

"Okay." Lynette clears her throat, quickly thinking of a new conversation topic. "I like your outfit. You're looking very handsome."

Falcon mumbles something I don't hear, probably an indifferent "thanks."

"You have family back home?"

Falcon nods.

"Is there anything you want to say to them right now? They're probably watching."

"No."

"Nothing? Not even an "I miss you" or an "I love you?"

The boy shakes his head.

K doesn't let the silence drag on for long. "Do you feel like training was helpful? You got an amazing training score! How'd you manage a 10?"

Falcon shrugs. "The gamemakers gave me what they thought I deserved."

The buzzer rings. He walks off stage without offering so much as a smile to the audience.

"Next we have Riley Kramer!"

The girl that walks onto stage wears a sleeveless dress completely covered in red roses. The hem of her bright dress fans out in such a way that it looks as though rays of the sun swish against her cream shoes. Her bronze hair is pulled back into a bun. She looks beautiful and elegant.

Lynette shakes the girls hand, before taking a seat across from the tribute.

"How are you holding up, Riley?"

"Magnificently. I don't think I've ever tasted lamb stew that's so delicious."

The audience emits a collective set of laughs.

"You're making my mouth water," Lynette says, grinning. Riley raises a brow, smirking. Lynette licks her lips quickly. "If you don't mind me asking…your last name…Kramer. Your mother…was she…"

"Isabella Kramer. Yes." Her dark red lips shimmer in the stage lights.

"No way! What a coincidence: The girl born in the games is reaped!" Lynette chirps, barely being able to contain her vivacious excitement. "And…I believe your brother was here a few years back?"

"Yes. Alaric. Five years back."

"You've got quite a family history with the games, isn't that right?"

"We do have quite a relationship. Two family members have lost to the games." Riley says. "But I'm number three. And they say the third time is the charm." This radiant smile seeps over her lips, and her eyes glow in an almost flirtatious manner. "Right?"

"Absolutely!" Lynette agrees. "And you've already been in the games."

Riley nods, "Somehow that's peculiarly consoling."

"As it should be," Lynette assures the girl. "So, Riley, when you're not getting 10's in training what do you like to do?"

Riley thinks for a moment. "I like to do a lot of things."

"Pick one."

"I dance."

"She looks like a dancer, doesn't she?" Lynette asks the audience. There are whistles of agreement.

"Now, tell me, you have any secret tactics for the games?"

Riley takes a moment to think. "Yes."

"Well that's awesome. What are they?"

"If I told you it wouldn't exactly be a secret, would it?" Riley asks.

Lynette opens her mouth, but the buzzer rings before she can respond.

"One last round of applause for Kramer! Our girl born in the games!"

The audience fills with cheers.

The boy from district 12 jogs onto stage. I quickly realize why he's running. The friction of his arms rubbing against the fabric causes orange sparks to shoot from the black suit. I almost expect him to catch on fire. But he does no such thing.

He brings the two fingers on his right hand to his forehead in a salute to the audience.

"What's up Panem?!" He grins at the camera in front of him. The audience applauds as the boy takes a seat across from Lynette.

"Hunter Night," Lynette says once the audience silences. "That's quite a name."

"Yeah. Well, I'm quite a person," Hunter shrugs, a grin stretching across his cheeks all the way to his ears. His tone is more humorous than cocky.

"So, what did you think when you were reaped?"

Hunter pulls his eyebrows together. "Honestly?"

Lynette nods. "Yes please."

"I was happy I wouldn't have to go to school on Monday,"

This earns a good laugh from the audience. The boy does well dodging the question. This kid certainly has charisma.

"Anyway," Hunter continues, "I knew I could take the challenge. I never take the easy way out. Of anything. And I will never give up."

"Persistence. That's a very important trait to have in the games," Lynette says. "Any interesting allies?"

The boy shakes his head. "I don't want to deal with the sticky situation once I have to kill them." The boy leans closer to Lynette to add, "And I mean that literally. Blood is really sticky."

This earns a laugh from the audience.

"Yeah. You don't really want that on your hands." Lynette agrees.

"But sometimes you don't have much of a choice," Hunter says. "And I'll do whatever I have to do to make it to the end."

When Hunter's interview ends, he gets to his feet and raises his right eyebrow at Lynette.

"Now for the best exit you're going to see all night…" he announces, before starting into a sprint. This time flames really do burst from his jacket. The audience whistles and hoots as the flaming boy disappears backstage.

The girl from 12 doesn't smile as she enters. Her silver-blue eyes sweep through the audience, a mysterious look on her face. Her dress is almost as dazzling as her district partner's suit. The blue fabric hugs her body, and the silver sparkles that catch the light hold a close resemblance to the starry night sky. The audience again lets out contented sighs as the girl glimmers.

She sits across from Lynette, saying a brief, "Hello."

"Kasey Spalik! Your dress is amazing!"

"Thanks," the girl replies, then she looks back out at the audience. She makes eye contact with just about every person in the first few rows. Her gaze makes me slightly uncomfortable. There's something very real, something very honest and something very angry in her eyes. Not the ugly kind of anger. The beautiful kind. The kind that makes a person's whole face glow.

Lynette asks the girl many standard questions, each of which Kasey answers each with a "yes" or a "no." Any questions pertaining to her home life she answers with a shrug. She only stops to elaborate slightly and say, "I don't mind killing," when Lynette asks Kasey what her game plan is. The girl seems set on remaining as enigmatic as possible.

But it's a good tactic. Because she certainly is intriguing.

As her interview comes to an end, Kasey exits without offering Lynette the customary smile or handshake the other tributes awarded the host. It's not particularly rude. But it certainly isn't very polite. Kasey doesn't seem to care as applause fill the theater. She just walks off stage, her stroll casual. That honest, hateful look remains in her eyes.

"Now we're going to have Mikey Jonah from district 9!" Lynette announces.

This time the blonde walks onto stage. He's in a silk brown button-down shirt, his hands shoved into the pockets of his white slacks. His hair has been gelled back to make him look older. He certainly looks very handsome. And he doesn't appear ill at all. Of course, that may just be as a result of the make-up artists. They can make even a person on his deathbed look healthy.

"You all right?" Lynette asks as Mikey sits down across from her.

"Yeah. I'm all good," he replies.

"Glad to hear it. Now. I have to ask…are you into poetry?"

A large percentage of the audience laughs at this. The boy seems to freeze. And I think he really stops breathing for a moment. After a second where his brown eyes look so far past nervous, a very anxious smile reveals his front teeth.

"Uh…no. Not at all." He shifts in his chair, uncomfortably. "I was…you should just understand…I was...well…not myself at the reapings." He bites his lip as he glances at Lynette, as though he expects her to burst out laughing or something.

"No worries. Although I will admit I was a little disappointed by the fact that you didn't perform for us during the chariot rides. Because you were definitely very entertaining during the reapings."

The boy lets out a soft, breathless, laugh. "Oh. Well. I guess I'm not usually quite that entertaining." After he speaks, his eyes widen, and he realizes he basically just called himself boring. "I…what I meant by that was…I…" He closes his mouth again, taking a moment to compose himself, looking close to crying or perhaps passing out all over again.

"Are you nervous?" Lynette asks, even though the answer is obvious.

"Uh." He swallows, "I guess. A little. Yeah."

"Don't be nervous, honey. We're all here to get to know you and have a good time."

Mikey nods, offering Lynette a friendly, but tense, smile.

"How do you like being the partner of a career?" Lynette asks.

"It's nice. She's nice." He presses his lips together. "I think we get along really well." The boy seems to calm down a little as he talks about his partner.

"Are you ready for the games?"

The boy is silent for a second. His right foot, which has been fretfully tapping against the ground since he took a seat, stops moving. He looks down, the inclination of a smile lingering on his lips. I wait for him to lie through his teeth about how he's sure he's going to win, like most tributes do. Instead he responds with a soft, "I don't know."

There's something so honest about his voice, something so earnest and thoughtful.

His sincerity leaves me slightly discomfited.

There we go! The interviews are officially over! Sorry that took so long. I want to thank LilacFields again for the incredible amazing costumes! I'm very impressed with them!

Answer to the last question: The last interview belonged to Mikey Jonah! (Poor guy- he really can't catch a break can he? But…technically it could be a lot worse. I was thinking about all the horrible things that could happen to someone in a three-minute interview. This list is frighteningly long.)

New Question: I'm going to make you guess again! Since the next chapter is the first day of the games, I thought of the perfect question to ask: Who is going to die first in the games?