POV – Corolla Beron

6:08PM

Cory's on edge. The moment she left the admittedly no safer safety of district 6, her nerves have been frayed. It's really happening, she's really being shipped to her death, like cars to the crusher.

It takes everything just to remain calm. She can't mask it all though, the slight tremor of her hand, the slow trickling sweat down her forehead, subtle yet present signs for anyone looking.

And naturally, out of everyone here, her district partner happens to be one observant kid. He's peering at her with an unflinching gaze, almost expectantly. For someone already anxious about the situation, it doesn't help. Cory knows she's not in a good state if all it takes is a kid to stare at her to unnerve her.

"What do you want?" She hisses.

The boy's eyebrows shot up for a second. Cory feels momentarily victorious. It doesn't last as he simply shrugs.

"Nothing, I'm just bored. Wanna talk?" the boy asks after some thought.

Cory looks down on him, mustering her best haughty expression, "oh? Why would I want to do that?"

She feels quite relieved when she sees the child flinch. But he recovers quickly with a lopsided smile. It serves to agitate her. She normally never associates with others to begin with unless they are people she knows or are friends.

The Hunger Games change that, force it really. It's an amalgamation of stressful situations spilling over. Perhaps she's lashing out a bit too much. Still conversing with others could be harmful. They could learn things about her, weaknesses, exploits or tells. It's probably best she didn't associate with anyone at all.

Her chances go up this way, she thinks. The only person she'll dignify with conversation is her mentor. Her district partner could be out to exploit her, through association, his mentor could too. And their escort… well, he creeps her out.

The way he looks at her when he thinks she's not noticing unnerves her. She'd never want to be alone in a room with him. Even now, from her spot on the couch to the dining table, the escort, Karan's gaze seems to travel towards her from over his cup of tea.

She shivers at the thought. She can't help but feel scandalized under his gaze. She swallows thickly and turns to look at her district partner again. He has an unreadable expression; it slowly breaks out into a nervous grimace.

He noticed too then.

Great, so she wasn't going crazy. Their escort really is a creep. How fun!

"Have you spoken to your mentor yet?" The boy asks suddenly.

Cory narrows her eyes and stares at him critically. Eventually, she shrugs and nods her head. It's better, to tell the truth here in this instance than lie. Assuming he took everything, she said seriously, lying would only set her up to look weak, or not truly invested in surviving. It'd be a mess she'd rather avoid.

The very idea is offensive, Cory's many things, but a quitter is not one. Don't stop, never stop. As her mantra goes.

"What's she like? Anything like Icarus? That guy's a riot. Always cracking jokes," The boy rattles on, seemingly ignoring the previous tension.

Cory can't help but feel as if he's not taking it seriously. If a mentor is cracking jokes or not being serious, it reflects his stance on the tribute, right? Perhaps he thinks her district partner is a write-off. It would make sense, a small kid doesn't really fare well in the arena. Usually, they're the first picked off in the bloodbath.

It makes her grimace. She really didn't want to start thinking about the games so soon. Or at all really. But, well, she needs to. She's resigned to her fate. As unfair and unjust as it is. It'd be stupid not to focus on her goal. She wants to survive; she bets everyone reaped does.

"Circe is…" she freezes.

Huh, now that she thinks about it, what is Circe like? The woman's soft-spoken, hardly initiates conversation and constantly has this glassy expression on her face, like she's not all there.

"… she's interesting," Cory concludes lamely, instantly regretting the lacklustre response.

Her district partner laughs, "interesting huh? How interesting!"

She bites down on her tongue, preventing herself from lashing out at the child. She set herself up for that really. Besides, his opinion really didn't matter, so she wouldn't let it bother her.

"if that's all, I think I'm going to head to my room," She says stiffly.

The boy smirks knowingly, which she promises doesn't bother her at all, not even a little. She stands abruptly from the couch. From her peripheral, Karan does the same. It causes her to freeze on the spot, her eyes going wide.

"Corolla, would you like me to escort you to your room?" The man asks smoothly.

She swallows thickly, but shakes her head in the negative, not trusting her voice to not out her as thoroughly creeped out.

"It's two cars away, what's she need an escort for?" The boy asks innocently.

Too innocently.

"I believe, I did not ask you Senna," All warmth gone from his tone.

He's too obvious with his intentions!

"Oh, don't mind me, I was just thinking out loud," Senna says sagely, nodding his head.

"I'd ask you refrain from doing so in the future," the escort responds, a bit of annoyance bleeding through.

"I'm okay, thanks for the offer, escort Karan," Cory pipes in, bowing a bit.

She doesn't want him near her, but at the same time, would rather not antagonize or annoy him. He can't be dangerous, otherwise, he wouldn't have a job as an escort still. But It doesn't shake off the dreadful feeling she has of him.

"If you wish," He smiles in response.

It's a strained smile she notices, the minor twitches, the way it doesn't reach his eyes, it takes everything in her not to gulp audibly. She instead lets the building saliva linger and instead bows again before turning on her heels. She marches all the way back to the safety of her room and locks it.

Once there, she allows herself to swallow nervously, and go for a cup of water. She knows he can't do anything to her, he simply can't. There's no way the Capitol would let a scandal like that last. If not towards the people of 6, then maybe those vying for his position. An escort role is quite prestigious after all. The publicity one gets is a lot, fame and attention seem like things Capitolites strive for.

Her logic checks out. It has to. To be safe though, she's not going to chance it. She smiles bitterly. Consider it practice for the games, she thinks sardonically.

POV – Mila Carway

8:24PM

Dinner was delicious, so was lunch, now that Mila thinks about it. She felt guilty at first eating it, thinking on how much food there was, and how easily it would feed her family for weeks. But, knowing at the price it came, she was glad it was her instead of anyone else.

So, she savoured the final meals for what they were. Besides, building up energy would be essential for whatever arena they throw at her. She needed to pick up mass as fast as possible if only to build energy reserves for the inevitable time she goes back to not eating anything.

She likes to think that would be an advantage, used to not having much to eat. She doubts those from richer districts understand the feeling, the painful gnawing, as if one's own stomach was cannibalizing itself.

It was enough to force her to adapt, to learn how to steal and pickpocket. At least then, her siblings didn't go nearly as hungry. But she's getting sidetracked. Earlier today, hers and her district parnter's mentor, Primrose gave a very precise explanation for what's to happen to them.

Since they're from 12, they have the longest train ride. As such, the moment they arrive, they're shipped off to some stylists to be made pretty, whatever she meant by that. Afterwards, they'll slip into their costume and go on the ceremonial parade.

Sharing a mentor is quite unfortunate, Mila finds, as Primrose seems adamant in trying to get them to work together. Mila reasonably disagrees. She would rather not take her chances with strangers who could backstab her at any moment.

Trust in the games Is a fast track to an early death. It seems her partner agrees. As even though he seems to like talking to her, he's guarded. She can tell, he doesn't say anything of value and tends to keep track of her hands.

He'd be tricky to deceive. It'd simply be better to not try at all. He's ill too. Mila notices how easily fatigued he gets from simple things such as standing for too long or eating too quickly. He's essentially crippled by his own sickness. Mila's confident she could take him in a fight if it comes down to it.

With a resolute nod, she turns the tv on, watching the reaping recaps. Both career districts look like threats, but nothing beyond the standard. 3 looks interesting, the tall bald guy doesn't look concerned to be reaped at all. 4 surprisingly reaped, cutting the career pack by a third. She finds herself relieved by it, but only marginally.

She can't really afford to grow complacent due to a lucky break. Both from 4 look very well fed and able-bodied, they could find themselves in the pack anyways. That being said, Mila doesn't put much stock in that theory. Better to expect the worst rather than the best though.

She presses on, 5 and 6 look like complete write-offs. 7 raises questions, male volunteered, but he looks absolutely built like a hovercraft. He's huge, and someone Mila instantly decides to avoid at all costs. Even if he were completely and utterly useless with a weapon, it wouldn't matter since his body basically counted.

The outlier districts have a surprising amount of older and abled bodies. It makes her instinctively chew her cheek. She's a small girl, she knows that. So she can't fight fair. She takes a moment to formulate a plan.

If she managed to form an alliance with one of the outlier districts, maybe the guy from 9, 11 or possibly the girl from 10, it would metaphorically kill two birds with one stone. She could secure some insurance for the bloodbath and eliminate a potential threat.

It's a grim thought, and she doesn't feel particularly clever or smart for plotting a betrayal. But, it's her life over theirs. She wouldn't be resentful if someone betrayed her. Although, admittedly it wouldn't be much of a betrayal because there would never have been any trust to begin with.

Still, backstabbing people is something she's long become accustomed to. She won't feel guilty or remorseful for what she knows she needs to do. Her life goes above all, she'll do whatever she can to get back to her family. Even if that means ripping others from theirs.

POV – Locust Sequoia

9:01PM

Locust takes a sip from his mug, the warmth slowly envelopes him, and he lets out a content sigh. He slowly peels his face off the steaming cup to look up to his mentor.

The man nods his head in greeting before sliding in the seat across from him. His mentor slowly clears his throat before reaching for a bread roll.

"Sorry for this, I just figured it'd be better to talk about it now,"

Locust shakes his head, "I understand."

"That's good. First, why'd you volunteer?"

Locust decides to take a sip of his beverage, using it as a mask to buy some time. What should he say? Would exposing those who essentially hired him, nullify their deal? Would they vindictively kill his family? He'd rather they didn't it would defeat his whole purpose being here.

Ultimately, it's a risk he'd rather not take. At least, he does have a convenient excuse.

"My friend was reaped. I owed him," Locust eventually says simply.

"Really? Just like that? One hell of a friend you are," Erik says, clearly skeptical.

Locust shrugs, "I guess I am."

Erik pensively bites into the bread roll, "let's get to business. I looked over the recaps for you. 4's useless, no careers. It pinches their pack quite a bit. They'll want to replenish them. You have two options. Join them, or make a counter alliance to take them out."

Locust simply stares, betraying nothing on how he may feel. In reality, he didn't even consider the second option. That's too much work, assuming he could even find people good enough to tackle trained killers. No, better he merely becomes one instead. Joining up with the careers was his intention from the very beginning. It's a bit surprising that his mentor wants him to forsake his district partner though. He'd imagine camaraderie between district partners was pushed to help both have a good showing during the games.

Then again, he understands why Erik suggests against it. In private too. Hazel Redford, she's kind enough and seemingly unafraid of him and his tattoos. A surprising turn of events, but not entirely a bad one.

Still, her kindness is hardly a boon for the games, it may very well be detrimental for her. Kindness and compassion are useless in an arena. Her size and age even more so. She'd simply drag him down if he worked with her.

No other way around it.

"I will join the career alliance," Locust explains.

"Really now? You may be big, but size doesn't mean everything, not to them," Erik counters.

Locust tilts his head in confusion, "what beats size?"

"Technique and experience, something careers have more than you."

"No. Not experience."

Erik shakes his head disbelievingly, looking numbly at his tribute. He starts to chuckle nervously.

"Ah shit, you've trained for the games, haven't you?"

"No."

"Okay, then what do you mean by experience? You've fought someone? I'm talking more than just some street brawl. Don't get me wrong, I don't doubt you win those. But brats can't do shit to you, I'm talking about people coming at you with the intention to kill, can you do the sa-"

"Yes."

"…Locust, did someone try to kill you?"

"Yes."

"And did you…"

"Yes."

"Shit" Erik mumbles under his breath, "you're one of those crazy bastards huh? Whatever, it doesn't matter in the end. If you win, I'm done with this shit, so," he stops to shrug lazily before fetching another bread roll.

"Are you good with any weapon then?" Erik asks after finishing a large bite.

"I hunt with a crossbow, I can use axes well."

"Of course you can, who in 7 can't use axes well. Whatever that should be good enough to get in. But, they'll probably want to kill you early since you'll pose a big ass threat to them."

"I understand. Is that all you wished to discuss?" Locust asks.

"Yeah. You've given me a lot of shit to think about, get some rest, trust me, you won't be able to get much of that once you're apart of the career pack."

"Thank-you," Locust nods his head in gratitude before finishing his mug in one large gulp.

He stands from the table and nods towards his mentor. He slowly makes his way back to his room. He wonders if sharing that much to his mentor was a good idea. Ultimately, he decides it won't matter. It's not like they could convict him now. What purpose would it serve? Either way, it's better to talk about his life and personal struggles rather than the strange deal the man in the suit gave him.

POV – Cyrus Waterlily

10:01PM

There's a knock on her door, waking her from her light sleep. She blinks blearily and slowly rubs the sleep from her eyes. She slips out of bed and opens the door to the sight of her mentor, Coral. Cyrus smiles warmly at the girl.

"A bit early for morning, don't you think?" She teases lightly.

Coral exasperatedly sighs, although a smile plays at her lips, "nothing like that, we're here."

Cyrus' brows raise, and she quickly nods, "let me change out of this then."

Her mentor nods in return and waits outside as she closes the door. Cyrus doesn't waste any time, slipping into her reaping clothing. She steps out of the room and follows Coral who beckons her with a small wave. The two enter the main car. Cyrus can't help herself as her curiosity takes hold, she slowly gravitates towards the window.

Despite it being dark out, with a night sky, the city is so bright. Lights shine in the distance, illuminating the buildings. It reminds her a bit of a lighthouse. The train slowly enters a tunnel, and complete darkness takes them for a few seconds before abrupt brightness. Cyrus instinctively squints.

The sound of cheering startles her, and she leans even closer to the window. The station is filled with people waving and shouting, eager smiles on their faces. It startles Cyrus for a moment. But she quickly recovers. She smiles brightly and waves towards the crowd, finding the attention although strange, not entirely unwelcomed.

She hears a scoff and turns from the windows to look at the other four with her. Erasmus is busily eating food at the table, simply ignoring everything around him. Florian and Coral more or less seem pleased with her actions, but her district partner, Calder looks dismissive. She tilts her head in confusion. She can't think of something that could have angered or annoyed him.

She doesn't get the change to ask him or think about it as the train stops with a subtle jerk. The door hisses open and a ramp shoots down to meet the station floor. Erasmus finally stands, dabbing around his mouth with a napkin before he clears his throat.

"Please, follow me," he says, not waiting to see if anyone listens.

"Keep waving and smile, ignore Calder yeah?" Coral suggests.

Cyrus nods. She exits from the train car and has to instinctively blink and squint again. This time, although quite bright inside the station, the flashing of lights startles her. Cameras aren't used often in 4, even less so when out in the ocean.

Despite that, she finds herself smiling brightly. The uproar it causes makes her a bit giddy. She really wasn't expecting this kind of reception. Peacekeepers create a wall on both sides, preventing anyone from trying to touch her. It's an odd contrast to what peacekeepers are normally there for.

The peacekeepers carve a path for her to use, although they do so far kindlier than one would have seen in say, district 4. Gentle 'pardons ma'am' or 'sir; and slight nudging, but never using their weapons to brain any exuberant Capitolites. It makes smiling a bit harder, seeing the jarring difference. Peacekeepers in the districts aren't well renown, or positively received. Yet here, they appear to be nothing more than nuisances to the people.

The tributes, mentors and escort are ushered into a large black truck. The cushions are soft, Cyrus notes. It's also a rather large vehicle, bigger than her own personal boat she uses for small excursions. The truck has three rows of seats, the first for the peacekeeper driver and Erasmus. Second row for the tributes and a Peacekeeper in between the two and the final for the mentors and a final peacekeeper.

Cyrus isn't sure how to feel about being so close to a rifle. She doesn't let any visible signs of her discomfort show at least. Calder, on the other hand, looks fidgety, and his gaze fixes itself perpetually on the barrel of the gun.

She'd try to cheer him up, but, he's proven to be a bit difficult to talk to. Also, she wouldn't feel too comfortable talking over a peacekeeper anyways, even if these ones are here to keep them protected.

The drive is done in silence, with only Coral and Florian discussing things in hushed tones at the back. Cyrus looks out the window, staring at the nightlife with unrestrained wonder. It's beautiful, the lights make the city glow. The buildings soar high into the sky too, even when she ducks and tries to peer towards the top, she can't quite see it.

It's a fascinating experience. Before long, the car pulls into a building and they park in an underground parking lot. The group files out of the vehicle and are taken towards an elevator. Cyrus has never been on an elevator and allows her excitement to show with a grin as it rises. The elevator's doors and walls are made entirely of glass with doors on both ends. She looks through the glass walls, watching as the concrete is soon replaced with a large marble-floored lobby.

She's captivated by the massive chandelier at the ceiling, but even then, the elevator continues rising. It soon leaves the lobby behind. A roof replaces it which then spills out to reveal the rest of the city. The lobby is only two floors's tall it seems. It's almost as if two buildings were attached together with the elevator in between them. She looks behind her and sees the number 3 in neon green slowly pass her by. Cyrus smiles widely as she turns back to stare at the night sky.

"Haha, Coral had the same dopey grin on her face when she saw it," Florian says, chuckling softly.

"Put a sock in it, I did not," She denies vehemently.

Cyrus turns to look at her mentors, giggling at their antics.

"District 4 doesn't look anything like this," She says to the two of them.

Erasmus nods, agreeing with her. Calder clicks his tongue in frustration and looks away. Cyrus frowns, normally people wouldn't be this adamantly against being nice to her. She was starting to get annoyed the truth be told.

The elevator stops at a large navy blue 4. The glass door parts down the middle at the exact same time the number does, revealing a massive floor. Where the train was cute, cozy but luxuries. This room was extravagant and overkill.

There whole back wall was made of glass, giving a nice view of the street below. To the right, a hallway that led to more rooms, the bedrooms most likely. A bit closer, a bar with stools lined up on the counter. In front of said bar, a dining table for 6. On the other side, a small pool. Just before the wall of windows, a huge TV was placed on a stand, with a couch formation that made a massive U shape facing it. The walls that weren't windows were decorated with paintings.

Cyrus is left shocked speechless. Even Calder's eyes go wide at the reveal.

"I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems your prep teams are ready now. So You two are needed downstairs," Erasmus explains pocketing a phone as he addresses the tributes.

Cyrus tilts her head confusingly, prep team? She doesn't remember that in the games. The Parade came first, didn't it?

POV – Cooper Dawson

6:07AM

Cooper wakes up early, as he always did. This time was different, the humming sound of the bulleting train quickly sapped the grogginess from his consciousness. He raises from the bed, rubbing his eyes. The unfamiliar scenery still throws him off. The room feels cold, Cooper finds, it lacks the coziness that came from his compact wooden room.

This metal cage, on the other hand, feels too constricting, like livestock. He sighs at the idea and slips on the same clothing from his reaping. The fancy weird showering machine in his bathroom is just way too confusing to use. All of those buttons and weird images made it all the more confusing to use.

The moment he did turn the water on, it was so freezing it scared the desire to shower out of him. He shakes his head at the unpleasant memory and files out of his room. He walks down the hallway into the main car.

He's pleased to see food is already laid out on the table. Different kinds than what was shown before. Cooper remains captivated by the tantalizing aroma, he finds himself gravitating towards the food. He quickly takes a seat, fetches for a plate and starts to pile foods on top.

He normally doesn't get the chance to eat breakfast until 9, since he's usually working with the dogs until then. The thought instantly puts a damper on his mood, a frown forming his face. His mom is forced to do his chores now that he's gone. It makes him sad just thinking about it, the allure of the food faltering.

He starts to poke and prod at his food, his brows furrowing as he starts to feel homesick. He misses his mom, he misses his friends, he misses working with the dogs. He misses 10.

"Oh, hello Cooper, you're an early riser?" A voice called out to him from the car entrance.

Cooper turns and faces the newcomer and nods quickly. He recognizes him as his mentor, Baxton. The large man smiles softly at the boy and takes a seat across from him.

"How are you holding up?" He asks.

Cooper frowns. Is it showing so obviously on his face? Or is his behaviour different? Whatever the case, he isn't sure he wants to talk about it. Homesickness just feels like too much of a personal problem, a minor one to cause his mentor any trouble.

"I'm fine," he says softly.

He shoves a mouthful of scrambled eggs into his mouth, giving him an opportunity to distract himself with the fluffy wonderful taste.

"If you say so. Trust me though, don't bottle things up. It's not good for you," Baxton stresses seriously, he fetches a pitcher full of water and pours himself a cup.

Cooper watches wordlessly as his mentor grabs a small bottle from his pocket. The bulky man spins the top off and pours himself a pair of pills. He takes them and washes it down with his cup before pocketing the bottle again.

"Are you sick sir?" Cooper eventually asks, feeling concerned for his mentor.

Baxton shrugs, "In a sense, these pills mostly help me deal with my phantom pains," he explains as he gestures towards his stomach.

Cooper winces, recalling vividly the last battle Baxton endured before winning.

"But, I talk to a therapist to help me deal with my nightmares," he continues, staring seriously at the young boy.

Cooper finds the revelation surprising. But, after some thought. He thinks it shouldn't be. Baxton constantly has bags under his eyes, and he's usually very soft-spoken and or quiet like he's not entirely invested in the conversation.

He has a few nervous ticks to him, and they usually manifest only when speaking with their escort, Glaphyra. But he seems fine when he talks to Destry, Miss Paulina or himself. It makes Cooper think that his mentor simply feels uncomfortable around Capitol things. Then again, Glaphyra is very persistent and acts like Baxton's personal stalker, so he may just be uncomfortable around her alone. Still, the nightmares, the phantom pains, those are crippling things, as to why Baxton told him, it's pretty clear. He wants Cooper to talk.

"I don't want to trouble you though, sir," he tries one last time.

Baxton shakes his head, "no trouble at all. Talk to me, it's just the two of us here."

Cooper takes a deep breath and steadies himself. Then, he starts to voice his thoughts, air his problems. He struggles at first, feeling awkward talking about it. But he soon gets the ball rolling, and all of his concerns come spilling out.

"I… I miss home, I know it sounds childish, but… I just do. I want to go home, or away from here. I want to help mom prep the kennels, I want to feed the dogs, I want to go exploring with my friends, to do my chores, to go to school. I want to hang out with my dad again. I… I don't think I'm going to get the chance anymore," Cooper finishes softly, his eyes downcast.

Baxton runs a shaky hand through his hair, "I understand how you feel, I was in your shoes last year."

Cooper musters a smile for his mentor. It's different he thinks. But he can't deny it's nice to know someone understands.

"You need to look at what you said as stuff to look forward to, rather than stuff you'll never have again, if you want to come home," Baxton eventually says seriously.

Cooper's throat constricts, but, he slowly nods in understanding. He wants to tell Baxton that he wasn't thinking that way, that he wasn't writing himself off, that he is calm despite how he feels. But he decides that it's more trouble than it's worth. The advice is sound all the same.

"Hey, but it's good to know what you want. I think family is a powerful motivator. It can take you all the way."

"You think so?"

Baxton smiles, "absolutely."

POV – Midnight Tyrian

9:01AM

Midnight sits at one of the stools, his fork poking listlessly at the food. He really can't bring himself to eat anything at the moment, still to distracted by last night's events. First off, preparations were a bloody nightmare.

They used tweezers and picked virtually any out of place hair they could find. Not only was it painful, but it was also embarrassing. Being entirely exposed like that, it made him feel vulnerable. He absolutely loathed it. He didn't lash out at them though; he knew it was coming courtesy of his mentor.

Still, 'a little pain and embarrassment' feels like a serious understatement. He still feels raw from it all. Despite that, he can't deny the prep team knows how to make him stand out. He'll let it pass for now. However, if they continue to talk over him, or ignore his questions or concerns, there will be retaliation.

Feeling considerably happier with his resolve made, he finishes his breakfast and heads over to the couch and snaps the TV on. He raises the volume, deciding that if others won't wake up by now, he'd be their pseudo alarm clock.

The channel is reporting on the games. What a shocking turn of events, Midnight thinks with an eye roll. They're showing all of the tributes that have arrived so far. 1-6. 12 arrive around 6 pm. And the Parade begins at 9.

That gives Midnight 12 hours to be bored out of his mind. Well, not completely he realizes with a smirk. He notices someone approach him from the corner of his eye. He turns to face them with a smug grin.

"Ahh, if it isn't the lovely Morrigan Sister. I'm guessing you're feeling aptly refreshed after your beauty sleep?" Midnight says, bowing slightly with a fictitious flourish.

"I've been up for hours," She says simply, stopping just behind the couch.

Midnight's smirk thins, "bullshit," he decides, calling her out.

"Why would I lie? Do you think I care so deeply for your opinion?"

He squints his eyes owlishly at this, but eventually bursts into cackles, she might be telling the truth, but that's hardly what he cares about now. His smirk comes back and he stares straight into her brown eyes.

"Oh yes, you like to think you're free from the opinions of others. We both know you're shackled though," he says, clear amusement in his tone.

Mischa stiffens momentarily, her face quickly becoming void of emotion. A mask, Midnight concludes. Not better than his he assures himself. he relishes in the cracks he made in hers though.

"Strike a little close to home? Oh, of course, I did. It's not easy being everyone's least favourite. Oh, but at least your pretty," Midnight mocks, finishing his sentence with feigned sympathy.

Mischa closes her eyes, and pauses for a second. Midnight lulls back and forth, waiting for her reaction, waiting for her to blow up in his face.

Instead, she shakes her head, "I'd rather you didn't project your insecurities onto me if you can help it."

Midnight freezes, his eyes going wide for a second. He quickly hides it and instead stares at her impassively. His thoughts are momentarily scrambled by her response, and he takes a second to calm himself. Unfortunately, his silence is more telling than anything else he could have said. The way Mischa smiles knowingly infuriates him. Like she has him all figured out.

That pisses him off even more.

"Projecting? Please don't regurgitate things you've read about in textbooks, your lack of comprehension of the concept is painfully showing."

"Schoolyard insults? Very impressive Midnight," Mischa says calmly, almost tiredly.

If these are schoolyard insults Midnight doesn't want to know what she thinks real insults are. Wait, actually, he kind of does. It means he can be way more vicious with her. Although, her almost masochistic patience with his barbs is starting to annoy him.

Why the hell is she always so unflappable. He can barely piss her off. Only mentions of family do the trick. And, now she's starting to read him like he's a pet project of hers. Of course, it had to be family that bothers her.

And now he's thinking of Twilight, that insufferable bitch of a sister. She's already planning on using his 'failure' here at the games as a pedestal to show why she's better, why she'll bring renown and fame to the Tyrian family where he couldn't. He knows because that's exactly what she told him during visitations.

The very thought makes his blood boil. Family can go fuck themselves.

"I strive to please, your highness," He says lazily, his desire to agitate her dissipating for the moment.

She isn't even going to react anyways; he reasons as he flicks through the channels.

Unsurprisingly, everything has to do with the Hunger Games. All 12 channels. It's obvious they only have access to these 12. The Capitol surely has more for entertainment than this. Although, they might just have exciting nightlife and no need for TV.

He shrugs at the thought. That's the extent of it though, his mind can't wander as he can practically feel her burrow her gaze into his skull. He turns to face Mischa, who doesn't even feel abashed at being caught. Instead, she focuses her stare even harder.

"What? Got something you want to say?" He eventually asks, his patience no longer holding out.

"Sure, tell me. Why do you want to compete in these games?" Mischa asks in return.

Midnight blinks for a moment before deciding to laugh boisterously. It helps mask his growing frustrations. She's starting to read him, to pick up on his tells, decipher his façade, learn what makes him tick and that's infuriating him like nothing else could. He's not oblivious to what she's trying to do. She clearly wants to get the upper hand on him, and in doing so, learn how to easily dispatch of him. After all, someone who's vulnerable is easily disposable. He can't allow that, won't allow it. Midnight Tyrian takes everyone by surprise.

He grins at her wickedly, "why not?"

Mischa frowns, clearly disappointed by his response.

"What? Didn't like my answer? Were you expecting me to reveal deep motivations and or hidden truths? It's far simpler than you want to make it out to be. You're a tribute not a shrink, stick to your strengths," he says before pausing to turn away from her.

He's waiting for her to say something. Only so he can have the satisfaction of interrupting her. She doesn't which makes him scowl.

With his gaze lingering on the TV, he continues anyways, "I just want to win. So I will. So, as a fellow tribute from 1, I'll give you this courtesy. Stay out of my way, or get cut down like the rest of them, Morrigan Sister," he finishes smugly, turning to face her again with a positively vicious smirk plastering on his face.

AN: train rides done, Although, for some, it wasn't so much train rides and just chilling before the Parade. Speaking of, Parade comes next! This means cross-district interactions are coming up! I'm looking forward to seeing some of these guys talk to one another! Remember, every tribute is getting at least 2 POV's before the Bloodbath starts, but some might appear in more POV's than others. That's not me showing favourites or anything of the sort, that's just how the story panned out. Hope you all understand and enjoy the story nevertheless!

On another note, I really hope I managed to get across the imagery for the penthouse/tribute dorms. It's probably not like the movies at all, But I kind of wanted to write them like this. Anyways, just think of it as an elevator in the middle of the building, with a clear division between the lobby and the penthouse floors. The lobby, like mentioned is only 2 floors tall, so the elevators are essentially out in the open air for 10 floors. Kind of like the CN tower elevators? I wasn't sure how to explain that in the POV, so I apologize for this completely unprofessional manner of explaining this. Forgive me plz!