A/N: In which the final interviews are conducted, and Elara Winston drops a figurative bomb this time around.

Ihaveacupofnoodles: I figured that making a bomb would bump her score up a bit!

LoveFiction2019: Thank you :)

hella-sirius: I decided to follow the movie version of Gloss and Cashmere's interviews for this story, which means that Elara is the one who will shock everyone. It is a bit similar to Peeta and Katniss's tactics, but it would be a bit difficult for it not to be considering the plot. Either way though you'll definitely see a lot of soft!Gloss coming up ;)

Chapter Thirty Four | That might explain the cruelty of fate?

"Love's heralds should be thoughts,

Which ten times faster glides than the sun's beams

Driving back shadows over low'ring hills."

2.5, 4-6 Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

When she's with him, she forgets. She forgets all the silly inconveniences of her lifestyle. She forgets that she misses being in District 5 with her sister. She forgets that, the night before, intimacy had made her cringe. She forgets it all, even the pieces of herself that she thought she'd never forget – the core of herself – that stays with a person no matter what comes in and alters everything else.

Gloss's hands are gentle and (dare she say it?) loving. She is once again taken aback at the divide in his personality, the way he goes from being a brutal Career to this soft man as if in the blink of an eye. The more she witnesses the transformation, the more she craves it. It doesn't matter how many times they've been in this very room, on this very bed, taking part in this very act; she cannot get enough of him.

She watches the way he slowly undoes the buttons of her shirt, unclasping them with one hand as he hovers above her. His face in inches away, if that. Every other moment, he leans down to kiss her, but his kisses are brief and poignant, and he breaks them quickly. She doesn't know what game he's playing tonight, but it feels very sublime.

When he's finished with the buttons, he flips her shirt open to reveal the gentle curve of her bra. Black, with a border of velvet trimming over the top. It's overall a rather plain article, but his eyes still flash curiously as his fingertips trace the soft velvet. Elara holds back a smile and just watches him.

"It's strange," he whispers after a moment. She thinks he's talking about her choice in undergarments at first and raises an eyebrow, until he catches her eye and murmurs, "I've undressed you a hundred times, but it still feels like the first."

She releases a breath that she hadn't realized she was holding, and stares at him. There's an emotion in those hazel eyes of his that she never thought she'd ever see there. In any other moment, it might have been difficult to place it with any precision, but…here amidst this act of intimacy, it isn't so very challenging to see the love that blossoms through his gaze. It isn't difficult to understand the cadences of it as it blisters through the spaces between them.

Love? What a thought. And yet…

Elara hums, feeling rather indulgent as she lays against the pillows with him above her like this, and murmurs, "Not for me."

He raises an eyebrow at her soft contradiction, eyes blazing now with curiosity as he settles himself above her form. One leg slips between hers, knee bent as he rests his head against his hand and props his elbow by the pillow. His voice is puzzled when he asks, "What do you mean?"

She exhales with a smile and playfully reminds him, "When you first undressed me, I was so nervous I thought I was going to have a heart attack."

At this, Gloss laughs. His expression turns amused as he tilts his head, no doubt recalling their first night together. After a brief pause, he admits, "Mmm…I thought you were afraid of me." Then, cringing playfully, he adds, "Not very good for the alibi, you know."

Elara bites her lip, smiling broadly as her hands smooth over his bare chest. His tanned skin glows in the dim light; a sculpted Adonis. He is beautiful, and he's only half undressed.

"The second time…I think I was too tipsy to be nervous," she tells him with a chuckle, and his eyes gleam with amusement. Then, fingertips dancing over his collar, she hesitantly murmurs, "And by then, I'd already experienced what it was like to be with a client. In comparison, being with you was…" she pauses, wrinkling her nose thoughtfully before sighing, "It was warm and gentle."

He studies her silently for a long moment, and she wonders if she's crossed a line by bringing her clients into the conversation. It's strange, how easy it is to talk to him. How the horrors of their lives are acknowledged with such simplicity. Sometimes, she forgets that the subject is still technically taboo, regardless of their connection.

With a short laugh, Elara quickly breaks the silence to add, "The third time, I thoroughly enjoyed myself."

Gloss hums, mouth tilting up at her confession, and brushes a strand of her hair off her cheek. In a smirking tone, he repeats, "Thoroughly?"

Elara sends him a smile that makes his heart stutter in his chest, though he won't admit it for the world.

He pauses, thinking back to her previous words, and sighs. The sharp desire that had bolstered through him only minutes before now fades to a dull craving that he pushes aside, for now. Instead of focusing on it, he merely rolls onto his back, pulling his arm beneath his head as he slowly muses, "I've never asked, but…did you enjoy our first night?"

He keeps his gaze trained on the ceiling. For some reason, the question feels too important to look at her directly. Perhaps he is afraid of what he might find in her gaze. Maybe he thinks he'll see some shard of reluctance, or dissatisfaction, or some such emotion that he does not want to acknowledge. His memories of their first night together are clear in his mind. He recalls everything, down to the last detail. Her nervous energy, her shallow breaths as he had slowly pulled her clothes off and viewed her for the first time…

He remembers his own desire too, pressing fiercely through his body. He remembers trying to temper it as much as possible, trying to put her own desire first. He had been overly conscious of the fact that his sister had gone through the same thing, this forced prostitution. To take someone into you, not only emotionally but physically too…and to do it for the first time, with no prior experience or expectations, with a complete stranger who had bought you for that very reason…

He inhales deeply and finally turns his head to look at her. He's a little surprised to see that her eyes have softened, and that she is smiling quietly. He is struck at the sight of her, and at the thought that plucks through his mind in that moment.

Elara Winston is beautiful.

Her wry, sarcastic smiles are enough to turn his heart into a wild, tempestuous thing, but – this gentle expression has an even greater effect on him. He hadn't thought that was possible.

"I enjoyed it," she whispers to him after several long moments, and he feels himself release a breath at her words, relieved. She chuckles at him, eyes shining, before quietly telling him, "It was more than I could have asked for. I was nervous, but…you were so gentle, and being with you like that was like nothing I'd ever felt before."

It had been her first time, after all. He had taken her hand and introduced her to a world that she hadn't even known existed. And yes, that world is dark and frightening sometimes – her clients are a part of it too, and it is not always pleasant or beautiful – but everything is different when she's with him. Everything.

Gloss stares at her, drinking her in as if he's seeing her for the first time. That unspoken emotion drives through his gaze again. Elara studies it silently, feeling her heart ache within her. If only they could take that emotion down from the pedestal in which they have put it on. To admit what is in one's heart is never an easy thing, but in their position, it is altogether impossible. They can't be in love; they do not possess the freedom that love requires.

"Did you enjoy it, or was I too inexperienced?" she wonders suddenly, her voice bold and unafraid of his answer. As always, her curiosity gets the better of her.

Still, the question makes him pause, mainly because he is not expecting it. Their first night had been for her, not him. In truth, he had been doing a service for her; taking mercy on an innocent girl who was about to be sacrificed to the underbelly of society. He had felt desire for her, of course, but he'd tempered it as much as he could for her sake.

At his silence, Elara feels a burst of awkwardness. She hadn't known what to expect from the question, but she had figured that he'd enjoyed their first night at least a little bit. It seems that perhaps she is wrong about that. The thought makes her twist her lips and turn her eyes away from his.

"…I guess I should have expected that," she laughs, but it sounds strained.

Gloss stares at her. He opens his mouth to respond, but to be honest, he isn't entirely sure what he means to say. Her question had been surprising. This entire conversation is surprising, in fact. He hasn't anticipated any of it.

Looking at her closely, Gloss sighs and pushes himself up. He rolls onto his side, nestling once more against the warmth of her body and grumbling, "Don't put words into my mouth, Winston. I never said I didn't enjoy it."

Elara raises an eyebrow at him and points out, "You didn't say anything at all."

He pauses again, then heaves out a grumbling sigh and tells her, "I was more focused on making sure you were comfortable than on my own satisfaction. I watched Cashmere go through the same thing. During the first year of her victory, she spent more time in the Capitol than she did in District 1. I guess…I wanted to make sure you experienced what intimacy could be, if it's real."

It's her turn to stare. Though his explanation is hesitant, his words are sincere. She watches the corner of his mouth tilt up into a smile. He leans closer to her and murmurs, "But I did enjoy it…even though you were so skittish."

Elara pushes him playfully and refutes, "I was not! That was your fault, anyway." He raises an eyebrow and she explains simply, "You're Gloss Augustine. Your reputation precedes you."

He smirks, eyes dipping over her mussed up form as he leans even closer. His lips barely graze hers when he replies, "So what you're saying is that you weren't nervous at all – you were just shaking with excitement to see me naked."

She laughs and hooks a leg around his waist, pulling him flush against her. Even though they're still wearing clothes, it feels divine to have his weight over her. She thinks it's just as divine to have him smiling at her like that, too.

"Well," she hedges, "I've seen you naked more times than I can count now, and I do have to admit that you're a fine specimen, Gloss."

She shouldn't stoke his ego, but it is true.

He chuckles and quips, "Naturally."

Then, hooking his finger beneath the strap of her bra, he pulls it over her shoulder and leans down to kiss the bare skin of it. If her breath hitches in her throat, neither of them mentions it, but the smirk he sends her as he starts kissing his way down her body makes it clear that he hadn't missed her reaction.

He rarely misses anything, when it comes to Elara Winston, but at this point, he hardly thinks that is surprising.

Ignatius had been true to his word when he told Elara that he would transform her for these Games. He's pulled out all of the stops this time. Dressed to the nines for the interviews tonight, Elara is worlds different from the vagabond Victor from District 5 that she usually is. She looks regal and powerful.

"You're dynamite, darling!" are Ignatius's words as he walks around her figure, grinning broadly from ear to ear. Dynamite is a good word to describe her gown, as well as the way she wears it.

The whole thing is a silvery blue that glimmers whenever she moves, as if she's just stepped out of the enormous lake that trails around her district. It seems to drip with water that isn't really water, but the glimmering fabric certainly does a good job in appearing as if it has droplets sprinkling over the entirety of it. The skirts are a heady mixture of chiffon and satin. They drop to the floor and hang just above her stiletto heels, which peek out beneath the hem. At her lower back, the fabric is gathered and falls down into the barest hint of a trail that brushes against the floor every time she moves. But her favorite part of the gown is the straps.

They aren't straps, really, but rather gossamer fabric that swoops around her upper arms just below her shoulders. The corset is tight and binds itself to her body in a restricting manner, holding the dress to her form. The ornamental sleeves are decorative only. They wouldn't hold the thing up all on their own.

"You look like a water spirit," Ignatius tells her, crossing his arms as he studies the wavy hair and bright eyes that blink back at him. She's wearing minimal make-up and her hair is down. In this lighting, it looks more red than brown, offsetting the blue of the dress in a way that he thinks is superb.

Elara smooths her hands over the skirts and haltingly laughs. She can't claim to have ever appreciated dressing up before. It isn't in her nature to enjoy the whole process of getting ready for an event, despite the way Ignatius has tried to amp her up for it over the years. This time, though, she has to admit that she looks incredible. Without Ignatius's help, she doubts she'd be able to pull this look off.

"Thank you, Ignatius," she tells him, her voice far more genuine that it usually is. There is no sarcastic drawl to her words or any exasperated lilt to her tone. Ignatius blinks at her as if he's surprised by her sincerity, and she feels subtly guilty about the way she's treated him over the years. It's funny, how it takes a threat upon your own life to realize things like that.

He smiles warmly at her and reaches out to pat her arm. "You're very welcome, Elara. Are you ready?" He glances down at his watch and tuts, "You should head down. I've put too much work into your look for you to be late."

She inhales and says, "You're probably right."

He winks at her. "I usually am."

She shakes her head at him and takes her leave, lifting her skirt just in case she manages to stumble over the hem. Harley is waiting for her in the living room, dressed up in a suit that has glimmering black lapels. He's got a flower stuck into the pocket, and upon studying it for half a moment, Elara realizes that it's a mountain laurel. The flowers grow all over District 5 like weeds, sprouting from the banks of the lake and down through the streets. It is an instant reminder of home, and for the span of a second, her breath is taken away at the image it produces.

The glittering water that surrounds District 5, the grey smoggy roads lined with cobblestone, the gloomy skies that pour out rain, the lush green hills that roll beyond the edges of the city, far beyond the Grid and the power plants and the factories…

Elara swallows down a wave of homesickness that comes to her abruptly. She's been homesick before, during her long stays in the Capitol, yearning for the familiarity of her district and the sights and sounds of her city. But now it seems all the more potent, because back then, she knew she would see District 5 again. She knew she would walk those streets and see the faces of the people she's known all her life and feel the familiar touch of the rain upon her face.

Now, she doesn't know if she'll ever step foot in that place again.

Harley gives her a brief, harrowing smile, as if he knows what she is thinking and why she is staring at the mountain laurel with such desperate eyes. He holds out his arm for her and, as she haltingly takes it, he clears his throat and tells her, "You look lovely, Elara."

She swallows thickly, but somehow manages to chuckle and murmur, "…So do you, Harley."

She's never felt much camaraderie towards her district partner in all the years since her victory, but as they walk down to the ground floor together, it almost feels as though they are far more connected than ever before. They are, after all, the only two people from District 5 in this whole damnable city, and that has to mean something.

When they arrive at the interviews, most of the Victors are already there. There is already a line forming that spans District 1 through 12, though some of the other Victors have not yet made their way down. As Elara passes Katniss and Peeta, she gives them both a little nod. It isn't returned, of course, though Peeta does give her a little smile even though they've only exchanged a few brief words. When she passes Johanna, she makes sure to smirk widely at her and the very obvious tree references in her brown dress, which makes her friend glower heartily back with crossed arms and an unimpressed expression. And – when she glances up ahead and her eyes lock onto Gloss's, well. The way he's looking at her says everything that needs to be said.

Some of the other Victors have formed groups and are chatting to each other as they wait for the interviews to begin, so it isn't all that surprising when Gloss breaks the line to stride over to her. His eyes are piercing and seem to pin her to the floor. She looks up at him, eyes locked and chin tilted up, and watches as his gaze dips over her figure from head to heels.

After a moment, he lowly murmurs, "You're beautiful."

Elara immediately chuckles, raising a wry eyebrow. "Am I?" she asks, even though she knows she is. She rarely feels beautiful in the gowns that Ignatius stuffs her into, but this time, he's gone above and beyond his usual designs. She has to admit that she feels as lovely as Gloss seems to think she is.

He smiles at her, and the corners of his eyes crinkle at the movement. His gaze glimmers at her, his hazel eyes more pronounced as a result. It makes her chest feel warm. He rarely smiles with such sincerity and it takes her breath away.

Moving to stand beside her, Gloss chuckles, glancing down at her as they face the line of Victors. A beat of silence passes between them before he says, "Did my sister give you as much hell the other day as I think she did?"

Elara snorts at the question and gives him a dry look. "We both know how protective she is of you."

He grunts in agreement and mutters, "That's the bad part about being the younger one."

Elara nudges him in the side and glances at his form. He's always looked good in a suit. She's seen him in enough photoshoots to know how well he can pull off the classy ambiance required for such expensive clothes, but tonight he seems even more handsome. He seems to fit the suit as if it was meant for him alone to wear – which, she supposes, it was. The Victors' stylists are nothing if not original, and their custom designs are quick to become trends throughout the city.

Gloss catches her staring and reaches up to straighten his jacket. The corner of his mouth tilts up into an amused smirk. "You look like you want to tear my clothes off, Winston."

Her eyes dart up to clash into his, and she pulls her lips back into a predatory smirk that makes him pause. Shivers spiral through him at the sight of her expression and the obvious sheen of lust that he can clearly see captured in her blue eyes. At once, memories of her hovering over him as she takes him inside of her rampage through his mind. He's had her so many times, in so many ways, that he sometimes feels as though he should be used to his desires by now, but he never is.

He swallows, clearing his throat and muttering, "Stop staring at me like that, Elara."

She raises an eyebrow and murmurs, "Why, am I making you uncomfortable?"

He snorts and lowly drawls, "Uncomfortable isn't the word I would use."

She laughs softly and crosses her arms with a hum. Her eyes slice over him in an almost idle manner, but he knows that there is nothing idle about the yearning that perforates his body. He knows she feels it too. He'd have to be blind not to see it there, lingering in the spaces between them.

"Will you come to me tonight?" she asks him quietly, so softly that he barely even hears her. These are not words she wants anyone overhearing, and in a room full of Victors, escorts, and Capitol cameramen, they have to be subtle.

He breathes out hard and shifts, stuffing his hands into his pockets so as to crush down the desire to reach for her. His eyes catch hers, and he hoarsely whispers, "You know we're splitting up in the arena. We can't be seen together on the night before the games."

His voice gives away the despair he feels at this, as do his eyes, which flicker between hers as he watches her reaction. He'd like nothing more than to hold her through the night and pretend that tomorrow, they will not be going into an arena that might very well bring about their end. But he is used to this feeling, this crush of despair, this longing that smashes through him with such potency. He has felt it many times in the past, when their goodbyes had lingered in his thoughts for days and sometimes weeks. When their partings had haunted him throughout months of absences and loneliness.

Elara glances over at one of the screens that are set up along the wall. Caesar is on stage now, and he's speaking to the crowd as if each member of it is an old friend that he knows very well. As he begins to introduce the evening's entertainment and the topics that will be discussed, Elara turns to Gloss and murmurs, "…It's been a while since we've made use of that closet on the third floor."

The words seem to take him by surprise. Gloss stares at her with raised eyebrows, half amused by her bold suggestion but mostly swept up in it. The desire that he's trying to trample down swells up again, catapulting into his chest with such urgent yearning that he can't stop the shivers from edging along his spine.

He pauses only a second before hastily murmuring, "Nine o'clock?"

Elara grins, and he feels himself grinning back before he can stop that, too. She chuckles and whispers, "I'll try to move the brooms out of the way."

He laughs, wanting nothing more than to drag her into him and kiss her. It is only through great willpower that he refrains. Instead, he merely says, "Wear that dress."

She purses her lips to stop her grin from spreading over her face at his request. He sees the hint of her amusement though, and smirks at her before loping back to his place in the line. She stares after him longingly, feeling a rush of excitement churn through her at the thought of being with him soon. He reaches Cashmere's side just in time, and barely has a moment to glance over his shoulder at her before his sister is pulling him with her onto the stage, and they disappear behind the curtain.

Elara sighs and moves to where Harley is standing. Ahead of her, Finnick sends her a look, and she rolls her eyes at him. Out of everyone here, he knows the particular grief that comes with falling for a fellow Victor, but she isn't in the mood for heartfelt words right now. She's far too busy turning to the screen, watching Caesar wave his hands dramatically at the sibling duo from District 1, who has managed to make the entire crowd roar with applause.

Cashmere and Gloss have always been popular in the Capitol. They have a legacy that no one else does. Their status as siblings has vaulted them into territory that even the most well known celebrity does not have. And, of course, it certainly helps that they are both attractive and powerful, from the Capitol's favorite district.

"And here they are," Caesar greets, happily shaking their hands with a wide, excited grin. "Have a seat!" He gestures to the couch, and Gloss waits for his sister to sit down before he sits beside her. No one fails to take note of the way their hands immediately clasp together; a silent message of unity.

"Now," Caesar says, shifting a little in his chair as he fixes his posture and gets comfortable. The grin that he had just been wearing falls away into a more serious expression, but even though his eyes flicker with solemnity, it is clear that Caesar is just as excited as any other Capitolite. Whether he's eager for the Hunger Games or just because he's got the siblings from District 1 on stage at the same time, Elara isn't sure, Either way, she's not overly impressed. She knows the look in Caesar's eyes too well to be impressed by it. It's a look that always wants something – some sort of manipulation that it not easy to refute when you're a Victor with only the barest amount of freedom.

"How are you two feeling about reentering the arena? I know this must have come as a shock to you," Caesar starts off, leaning forward to hear their response.

Cashmere and Gloss share a glance, and then she turns to give Caesar a small smile before saying, "Well, like all the others, we're really sad to go back into the Games. It's been a tearful last few days, Caesar."

At this, Caesar raises his eyebrows as if he's surprised, and asks, "How so?"

Cashmere gives out a slightly strained laugh and shrugs. "The Capitol has become our home. My brother and I love this city with everything that we are, Caesar. And…to think that we may not live to see it again…" she trails off, lifting a hand to artfully swipe at her eye. Her voice is a little thicker when she adds, "And we've made so many friends here, you know? It's not easy to say goodbye."

Gloss reaches over to lay a hand on his sister's shoulder, and Cashmere sniffs a bit as she gives him a tearful smile. The crowd seems stricken by her words; they fall silent with a shuddering wave of sorrow, as if they think Cashmere is speaking directly to each of them.

Caesar gives her a sad look and sighs, "I understand, my dear. You and your brother will be sorely missed." The crowd responds to that with a few cheers.

"Thank you, Caesar," Gloss says, sounding as sincere as ever. He shakes his head and tells him, "We're not going by choice." Then, turning to address the crowd, he says louder, "You are our family, and I don't see how anyone could love us better."

The crowd aaahhs at his words. The noise sweeps through the room like a cacophony of sound, and Caesar puts a hand to his heart and murmurs, "That's so sweet…so sweet." Then he glances over at Cashmere, who is brushing away more tears, and he frowns and asks, "Are you alright, dear?"

She laughs haltingly and says, as if embarrassed, "I'm sorry Caesar. I'm just so overwhelmed by this. None of us expected that this would happen, and Gloss and I…we don't just have to say goodbye to all of our friends, but also to each other."

Gloss draws his sister closer to his side, comforting her silently as the crowd mournfully hushes down. Cashmere's words are not tossed haphazardly into existence, but rather carefully chosen. Her connection to Gloss is the best ammunition they have. Playing upon the heartstrings of this crowd, and all the Capitolites watching the interviews from their homes, is essential. What better way to do that than to tearfully say goodbye to her own brother on live television?

"We've been through so much together. I just can't believe that we're about to be torn apart like this," Cashmere cries, wiping her tears away even as more flow. In truth, her tears aren't as false as some of the other Victors might believe, but they are definitely exaggerated for the purpose of this crowd. Cashmere is too strong to cry in front of everyone like this without a reason.

Elara watches this from the screen, arms crossed as she frowns. She watches her friend and lover as they artfully spin the room in their favor. It isn't so very hard to do, it seems. It could be because they're District 1, but it seems as though the crowd is different tonight compared to how it normally is. The people seem more prone to sorrow than excitement, as if they really are sad to see their Victors go.

Gloss says a few more things to the crowd, once more addressing them personally. He's got a certain charm, when he wants to use it that is, that utterly sweeps people away. To say that he's taking advantage of that now would be an understatement. Every Victor is going to press their advantages tonight. There is still a little bit of hope, after all, that the Games might be cancelled. That, perhaps, the Capitolites will not be able to bring themselves to send their Victors to their deaths after all.

Elara crosses her arms as she watches Cashmere and Gloss stand up as they finish their interview. The two of them head over to the other side of the stage, where there is a raised section for the Victors to stand on once their interviews are done. As the siblings step onto it, Brutus is called onto the stage, then Enobaria, then Beetee. Elara waits with baited breath as the minutes pass her by. Her body is tight with nerves. She's been to her fair shares of interviews during her time as a celebrity, but none of them have ever felt like this. There is a cocktail of dread that succors through her, made all the worse because she knows what Caesar is going to ask her. It's what he always asks her.

Finally, and far too soon, her name is called.

"And now, ladies and gentleman, please welcome Miss Elara Winston to the stage!" Caesar exclaims, waving his hand dramatically as if he's a magician trying to conjure her with a twist of his wrist.

"You look gorgeous tonight, my dear!" Caesar compliments her, reaching out a hand as she approaches. Elara lets him take hold of her hand and lead her over to the couch, where he gestures for her to sit. She does, smiling out at the crowd as she sits across from Caesar. The man in question also take a seat, idly saying, "It's so lovely to see you again, Elara. So lovely."

Elara smooths her skirts out and gives him a wry look. "You're not going to ask if I'm seeing anyone this time, are you? I don't know why you're so obsessed with my love life, Caesar."

Her bold question makes Caesar burst into laughter – a sentiment that the crowd quickly follows. He turns to her with an amused glint in his eye and dramatically puts a hand to his chest. "I just cannot for the life of me fathom why you're still single, my dear." He winks at her, and Elara laughs. Caesar leans forward and adds, "But since you've brought the subject up…?"

Elara laughs at him, sounding far more exasperated than she actually feels. In truth, she has led him towards that question, despite her usual annoyance whenever he asks her about this topic. This time though, everything is different. She doesn't want her interview to be forgettable. She's a Victor and she knows how to work with a Capitol crowd – what they want to hear, how they want to hear it. She may not be as popular as the Career Victors, but Elara Winston has become a name of its own in these streets, for good or for bad.

She gives Caesar a look that makes him chuckle, and a moment later, she drawls, "There is someone…someone who it'll be hard to say goodbye to."

This tidbit of information seems to surprise Caesar, who is so used to her finding ways to avoid such questions entirely. His eyebrows jolt up in shock. The crowd, too, leans forward in interest, wondering just who has managed to capture Elara Winston's guarded heart.

"…Well, tell us who this person is," Caesar prods, looking far more eager than he has any right to. He's made it his sole mission these last few years to get to the bottom of Elara's love life. Now that she's being open with it for once and not shrouding it in mystery, he'd on the edge of his seat.

He quickly holds the microphone out for her, and she pauses thoughtfully before saying, "He's…frustrating, and very single-minded, Caesar. He drives me insane."

The wry twist of words has Caesar laughing aloud. "Insane in a good way, I hope?"

Elara gives him a secretive smile and shrugs demurely, which makes Caesar turn to give the crowd a suggestive expression.

"And is he here tonight, in the crowd?" Caesar asks her. His words hit the truth of the matter very close, but they still miss the mark. The man she's talking about is here tonight, but he is not a part of the crowd that spans in front of her.

She turns to Caesar and murmurs, "…Yes. He's here tonight."

Caesar gives her a sorrowful look and reaches forward to take her hand in what he probably means to be a comforting hold. She graciously takes the offering with a small smile and says, "This is the last time we'll be having this conversation, you know Caesar? It's the last time any of us will be on this stage."

The crowd gives out a sad sound that weaves over the room like a mountain breeze wafting down from above. Caesar frowns at her, appearing just as sad as the rest of the crowd.

"Then let's make the most of it, shall we?" he asks, turning to the crowd in hopes of uplifting their spirits. Elara's dour words have certainly made an impact though, and the room is still hushed despite his optimism.

"You've had to say goodbye to your sister too, if I'm not mistaken. How did she react to the news of this Quell?" Caesar asks, clearing his throat as he tries to shift the conversation into other waters.

Elara pauses at the question, her chest tight at the reminder of Amelia. She takes a moment to respond, but when she does, she has successfully grappled with her nerves and her voice is clear and even.

"Not well, Caesar," she responds, lifting her chin and spearing him a look that is both challenging as well as sad. "When I die, she'll be all alone. No one will be left to look after her."

The frankness of her response seems to take Caesar aback. He stares at her with awkward hesitance as the crowd quakes with sorrow, their voices rising with it. He hurries to say, "But you might not die! There's always a chance that you'll be able to go back to your sister and that man you've spoken about."

He gives her a hasty smile, no doubt hoping that he's successfully swayed the crowd out of their grief, but Elara only shakes her head with a bitter laugh.

"Even if I did survive, it wouldn't matter…" she murmurs, and trails off as she looks down at her hands. She swallows thickly, fingers blanched white from the way she's twisting them in her lap. She hesitates because she wants to rile the crowd up, make Caesar ask her why it wouldn't matter. It's a calculated move meant to dramatize what she's about to say…but it's also because she's just a little bit afraid.

She isn't sure if she should say the next words. If she should play this particular hand or keep it to herself. She knows it's the best ammunition she has, and she should use it for that reason alone, but – will Gloss be angry with her for it? Will it perhaps backfire on her, should things go awry?

She's not sure, but it's too late to change course now. Not when Caesar is leaning in and asking what she means. Not when she opens her mouth to shakily say, "The man I'm…I'm in love with. If I win the Games, that man won't be here anymore. Because he isn't in the crowd, Caesar." She inhales slowly and murmurs, "He's a Victor."

The room immediately gets swept up in the uproar of her words, which had been so softly uttered, so shakily construed. There is a sincerity to them that the crowd catches onto, and their reaction is everything she had been hoping for. People erupt into chattering noise, outraged at the mere notion of such a love dying before it has the chance to grow. Their outrage is Elara's boon. She sits in the midst of it, staring out into the sea of people with eyes that are bluer than normal, made so from the tears that well in their depths. She's quite sure that the cameras have honed in on her face. She hopes they have. She wants these people to know that her sorrow is real, that her words ring with truth. That, if they allow these Games to happen, then her love might very well die – and her along with him.

Caesar clears his throat and stands up, holding out his hands to the crowd as if he's hoping that the action might placate them. It does, eventually, but only after several long minutes, and only when he loudly says, "Elara Winston, District 5! Let's give her a round of applause!"

He reaches for her hand and bows over it, kissing the back of it as she stands up. And even though Elara isn't usually the type to play a crowd in such a way, for she much prefers to run through interviews as quickly as possible, she takes her time walking to the other end of the stage where the other Victors stand. She lifts her hand to the crowd as if showcasing some sense of unity that does not truly exist, but – they love it. Even though Caesar is busy introducing Harley to the stage, the crowd is still reeling from Elara's abrupt and grievous message.

She steps up to the platform to the back of the stage. As she does, her eyes lift and clash with Gloss's, who is staring at her with an intensity that nearly makes her falter. Most of the Victors are staring at her, so it isn't discriminating that his attention is on her, but it still makes her heart beat quickly in her chest. He doesn't look angry – just intense, as if he wants to sweep everyone away and go to her. He doesn't of course. Not yet.

She is forced to break their connection as she turns back to the audience. Finnick, who is standing beside her, turns to give her a nod and a pat on her back.

"That was very dramatic of you, Elara," he murmurs out of the corner of his mouth. "I think I saw a few people bawling their eyes out."

She snorts quietly and whispers, "I told Panem that I love him. I haven't even said those words to him, and yet here I am, using our relationship for sponsors." She says the words like they're disgusting. A part of her regrets doing what she did, but she knows that it's too late to take those words back. The dice have already been cast, and she can do nothing now but allow them to run their course.

Beside her, Finnick sighs. "I did the same thing. To Annie."

It's true, at least partially. He had used his relationship with Annie to make his interview more dramatic. People had been riveted by his words and the romantic nature of them. But is it the same?

"But she knows you love her," Elara hoarsely murmurs, thinking back to all the times those words had been at the tip of her tongue – and all the times she had forced them down, afraid of where they might take them. Afraid of what she might feel, what new blend of grief she might experience, if such honesty had been allowed into the spaces between them.

Finnick just chuckles, eyes drifting out into the crowd sightlessly, and says in return, "He knows you love him too. You don't need to say it out loud to know that."

Elara doesn't look at him, but she does allow a tiny smile to shine through at his words. Inside, she knows that Finnick is right. And yet…

The Capitol has taken so much from them already. She wonders if it will ever end, or if perhaps another world waits for them beyond the arena. A world where they might be able to live without the ties that bind them to this city. A world where the words she has just said could be spoken aloud without fear.

A world on the edge of the desert, that is full of him.