CLIO ST. FRANCIS, DISTRICT THREE
8:36 PM, THE AFTERPARTY, PRICE BANQUET HALL
The afterparty that followed the interviews was genuinely unexpected, but only a few minutes after her arrival, Clio had decided that she liked it and was glad that she came.
There were so many people at the party. Capitolites, Mentors, Tributes, even some of the trainers from the Training Center had shown up. Everywhere she looked, people were mingling and dancing and drinking and enjoying the festivities. Despite the fact that it was the night before the Hunger Games, the atmosphere felt significantly more relaxed than it had since the arrival at the Capitol. Clio was thoroughly enjoying it.
There was only one issue, though; She had been here for a little over half an hour and she hadn't even seen Nami yet.
Clio had been keeping her eyes peeled since she'd arrived. Some of the Tributes had come late, others hadn't shown up at all. Isaac, the boy from Nami's District, had come right after the interviews were over. Nami was nowhere to be found.
For a minute, Clio considered the fact that Nami might have been upset. They'd spent as much time as possible together after their initial meeting at the Training Center, but Clio had forced herself to deny Nami's offer to join her alliance. The disappointment was clear on her face, but when Clio explained, she seemed to understand. For the first time in her life, Clio had grown close to someone that was real—Not just to her, but to everyone else around her.
She wasn't going to chance painting a target on the back of someone so important.
Any downtime they were given during the week had been turned into time that Clio spent with Nami. She knew that technically she was part of the Career Pack and technically she should have been spending as much time as she could with them, but she couldn't help it. Being around Nami was so easy. When she was around Nami, she didn't feel like she had anything to prove. She felt like being herself was enough.
Clio wished she was here.
As she pushed off of the wall she had been leaning against, she took a sip from her drink. The Capitol didn't seem to mind letting the Tributes indulge in just about anything they wanted to, so Clio had allowed herself the opportunity to try something new; Alcohol. Other Tributes had certainly been more explorative, as Clio had already seen two of the boys from Nami's alliance invading the bar area in a frenzy. She'd only gotten one drink for herself, but she wasn't entirely sure what it was. It was purple with a light fizz to it, like cider. There was a faint burning sensation in the back of her throat every time she swallowed it, but it was good. The drink tasted like raspberries with a hint of citrus thrown into the mix, and a pleasant mint note that accompanied the aftertaste.
Clio took another drink, downing the rest of the lavender-colored beverage and setting the empty glass on a nearby table. The other Careers were lingering nearby, clearly enjoying themselves. Aenea was mingling with the Capitolites, though she hardly looked out of place doing so. Erebor was sitting beside Leona, likely exchanging bad jokes with her, as usual. Vitus had gotten pretty inebriated and was flirting it up as best he could with all of the girls in his immediate vicinity, including Sutton. Isaac was watching Vitus with a grin on his face, probably relishing in his display of idiocy. Clio was apart of their Pack, but it didn't feel that way. Not tonight, at least.
She began to walk through the Price Banquet Hall in an attempt to find the restroom. It was getting rather stuffy and she wanted to get some air and make sure that she still looked alright in case Nami—Clio's nose scrunched as she exited the room and moved into the outer halls of the building, trying to keep her train of thought from making any more unusual stops. She distracted herself by admiring the environment around her. The Price Banquet Hall building was utterly massive, just like everything else in the Capitol. As Clio navigated toward the restroom, she was stopped several times for pictures with Capitolites and even for a few autographs. She felt like she would never get used to being a celebrity in the eyes of the Capitol.
Thankfully, the restroom provided solace. There were a few women inside, but they seemed more concerned with examining their reflections in the mirror. Clio approached the far end of the countertop by the mirror and looked at herself. Still dressed in her interview outfit, Clio looked as though she'd come straight to the party from the stage. The low-cut tank top that she wore paired with the light grey suit that her Stylist had designed still looked every bit as nice as it had when she first put it on.
Clio liked the look well enough. It was simple, but still eye-catching. The Capitolites had basically gone ballistic when she came on stage. Clio was grateful that her Stylist had done such a good job with just about everything. Not having to worry about looking ridiculous had taken a huge weight off of Clio's shoulders and had allowed her to feel good about herself. It was nice to be around people who didn't dote on her, opting to lift her up instead.
After giving herself a final once-over in the mirror, Clio stepped out of the restroom, instantly colliding with another person as she rounded the corner.
"O-Oh my goodness! I-I didn't mean to! I'm so—" Nami's frantic rambling came to a halt as she realized she'd bumped into Clio, though the persistent blush on her cheeks didn't dull in the slightest, "Clio!"
Clio's eyes widened and she smiled as Nami pulled her into an abrupt hug, which had become customary rather quickly. The shorter girl had changed out of her interview outfit in favor of sporting more comfortable attire. Instead of the dazzling blue dress that she'd worn on-stage, she was now sporting a different one. It was a little navy blue number with a skirt perfect for twirling. Her hair had been taken down from its intricate bun, falling past her shoulders and framing her rosy cheeks. She really was adorable.
"I was looking for you! I just got here!" Nami said.
Though Nami speaking out loud certainly added a little bit of difficulty to their communication, Clio had decided rather early on that she didn't mind it. It was an excuse to look at her lips. It was easy to read them, too. Nami was always so expressive and animated, it was pretty hard to miss what she was trying to convey. Clio supposed that was one of the things she liked about her.
"I'm glad you're here," Clio signed, "I just stepped out for some air."
Nami took her hand and squeezed it, "That's okay! We can get air for as long as you want! There's plenty here! I'm just so excited! I've never been to a party before! What should we do? Should we get something to eat? Should we dance?"
Clio hadn't considered the possibility of dancing, but having an excuse to be close to Nami and have a little fun was pretty inviting. It didn't matter that she couldn't hear the music. Clio was content to let Nami help her through the steps.
"I'd love to dance. Should we go back in?" Clio asked.
Nami seemed to think about it for a moment, "I think I have an idea!"
She gave a gentle tug on Clio's arm, pulling her along further down the hall and away from the room that was in use for the party. Clio was confused at first, but when Nami took a turn down a separate corridor and brought her to a stop in front of a slightly opened set of massive double doors, it all made sense.
Nami released her hand for a moment, the sudden absence of warmth threatening to make the corners of Clio's lips turn downward. The District Five girl pushed the doors open to reveal an empty ballroom. The ginormous space was bathed in darkness, save for a single patch of light that came through the high ceiling. Nami walked toward the natural spotlight, waving Clio along as she went. Clio padded after her, tucking her hands into the pockets of her suit jacket. She looked around, taking in the sight of the arched ceilings, the dome-like window above their heads, and the night sky that was vividly clear on the other side of it. When she looked to Nami again, she had extended her hand and was trying to fight a smile as she stared back at Clio, waiting for her to accept the dance.
"What about the music?" Clio signed, stepping closer, "Don't you need music to dance?"
"I can still hear it coming from the other hall. Besides, you don't need music to dance! As long as I have you as my partner, I don't need to hear the music." Nami said.
Clio felt that same warm and fuzzy feeling in her chest beginning to manifest as it so often did around Nami, the one that DeMarcus had been teasing her relentlessly about. The dark-haired girl took another step toward Nami and accepted her hand. Nami beamed as she took Clio's hand and placed it on her hip before twining her fingers through her other hand.
She took a step and Clio followed. She took another step and Clio followed again. It took a moment for them to work up to a rhythm, but Clio managed just fine once they had gotten into the swing of it. Just as she'd expected, Nami carried her through the steps with ease. The smile on her face was even more rewarding than the fact that she was dancing with the prettiest girl in the Capitol, maybe even the prettiest girl in all of Panem.
Together, they danced in silence, illuminated by the pale light of the moon. There wasn't any need for words. Their communication had been reduced to nothing more than shared smiles, the feeling of their fingers twined through each other's own, and the occasional bumping of their shoes. The only sound to cut through the silence of the ballroom was Clio's laughter as Nami prompted her to lead her through a twirl before promptly taking a bow.
Clio clapped her hands and Nami giggled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, "Um… Clio? I need to ask you something… A-And it's really important!"
"Hm?" She hummed in response.
"How do you say 'kiss me' in sign language?" Nami wanted to know.
Even in the low light, Clio could clearly make out the vibrant blush on her cheeks. Clio didn't understand what there was to be so embarrassed about. She simply quirked a brow before demonstrating how to sign "kiss me" back to Nami. Nami attempted to mimic her movements, so Clio performed the sign again. Nami did the same, her cheeks somehow burning even brighter and more intensely than before, and suddenly, it clicked.
Clio stepped forward, close enough to see even the faintest freckles that dotted the bridge of Nami's button nose. She could clearly make out every single one of the District Five girl's most adorable facial features; Her smooth, flawless complexion, the dark brown of her irises, and the gentle curve of her cupid's bow that brought Clio's attention right back to the lips that she had so quickly grown fond of looking at. One of her hands returned to its former place on Nami's waist, the other moving upward to cup the side of her face as their eyes met before Clio closed the distance between them.
Their lips met, tentative at first, as if both of them could hardly believe what was happening. Clio could feel her heart pounding inside of her chest as she melted into the kiss, pulling Nami closer and allowing herself to take comfort in the feeling of having a real person pressed against her. The District Three girl would have been lying to herself if she'd said that she hadn't imagined kissing Nami in the late hours of the night. Her imagination had always been the best way for her to live out the things she'd wanted.
But tonight, it just so happened that reality was better than fantasy.
NYLE SEATON, DISTRICT FOUR
9:00 PM, THE AFTERPARTY, PRICE BANQUET HALL
As an extrovert, Nyle could immensely appreciate just about any reason to get together and socialize with others.
The District Four boy never felt quite as charged up as he did in the presence of others. Nyle loved people and being around them, simple as that. And, admittedly, he realized it was a bit strange to be in such a good state of mind the night before he was formally sent off to what could very possibly be his death, but he was in fantastic company. Clarus Farley of District Ten and Nyle had proven to be incredibly fast friends.
In some ways, Nyle almost felt like they were brothers who had been separated at birth or something. Clarus just seemed to get him. They had this bond with one another that just worked. There was hardly any rhyme or reason to it, but Nyle wasn't about to complain. Clarus was so easy to get along with and he had this charming way about him that paralleled Nyle's own people skills. It was like Clarus' District Partner, Maine, had said; They were a match made in heaven.
Nyle's friendship with Clarus had been a rollercoaster, to say the very least. The time that he spent with Clarus was all uphill. It was fun and entertaining. Clarus kept him on his toes, making him laugh and teaching him new things about District Ten and baseball and whatever else they got to shooting the shit about. But when they went their separate ways for the day and Nyle was left to sort through his thoughts before bed, the downhills came; The thoughts that he wished he could've met Clarus in any other context, the thoughts that it could possibly come down to him or Clarus, the thoughts that it could potentially come down to neither of them.
That was what never sat right with him.
From the moment that Nyle had met Clarus, he'd wished that they could have met back in Four, or even in Ten. He wished that they could've met like other friends—As kids or on the first day of high school or just about anything other than the Hunger Games. It was funny, too. Nyle had never struggled to connect with others and forge new friendships, but none of the bonds he'd formed with the friends he had back home even came close to the one he shared with Clarus.
It was almost poetic, Nyle thought, that the two of them were potentially facing their inevitable deaths and had managed to befriend one another despite the harsh reality that they were, in fact, competitors. They were supposed to be rivals in the eyes of the Capitol. A big guy like himself versus another big guy like Clarus. After all, the bigger they were, the harder they fell, and the more brutal it was when they did.
But Clarus wasn't like that. And neither was Nyle. They were never going head-to-head. They were going to have each other's backs.
They were going to do just fine, him and Clarus. They were going to figure out a way to get through it. They'd come this far already and both of them had decided that there was no way they were going down without a fight. They'd promised each other that much.
Nyle had been thinking on it most of the day, but he'd had to kick himself in the head repetitively in order to remain focused on the present. They were at a party. They were supposed to be having fun—And they were, really. Nyle had managed to drag Clarus onto the dance floor for a bit and had even gotten him to perform some rather questionable moves. Of course, it had been an equivalent exchange of terrible dance moves from both parties, but they'd had way too much fun to care. They'd mingled briefly with a few of the other Tributes, namely Sonora, Cherry, Pepsi, and Emmanuel. Then, they'd decided to sit down to share some food and drinks.
Since the Capitol was being so generous, they'd allowed all of the Tributes who were sixteen or older access to the bar. What had started out as one drink had quickly turned into two, and then three, and then four, and then Nyle was feeling pretty great. He and Clarus were were sitting at one of the tables near the back windows of the room. There weren't many people around, but those who were milling about the rear of the room could hear Nyle and Clarus laughing as they talked over dessert.
"I'm serious! I'm serious! I'm not kiddin'!" Clarus said, jabbing his index finger against the velvet table cloth, "You'd better be at my wedding, Seaton! Who else is gonna be my best man?"
"Listen, Clarus… All I'm saying is that I'm not so sure I can make it all the way out to Ten. I mean, what do you know about leaving the Districts? If you ask me, seems like the sort of thing that never h-happens, yanno?" Nyle hiccuped.
Clarus shook his head, "I don't think you understand what I'm gettin' at here, man."
"Oh?" Nyle laughed, swaying slightly in his seat before resting his elbows on the table, "What're you getting at?"
"What I'm gettin' at is that you've gotta be there for my wedding someday. A'right? And I ain't taking no for an answer." Clarus informed him.
Nyle smirked, "Or else what?"
Clarus blinked hard, "What do you mean 'or else what'? Or else I'll hunt you down and drag you all the way back to Ten myself."
"Aw, c'mon. Now you're just threatening me with a good time," Nyle teased, earning an exaggerated roll of the eyes from Clarus.
"You got me onto the dance floor, I think the least you could do is be the best man when I'm gettin' hitched."
"Know what? You're right, actually. I seem to have forgotten that dance moves are of equal importance to wedding duties."
Clarus snickered, "You're a special case. I think you're great and Eliza'd love you, so you've gotta come."
"Are you gonna ask her to marry you? When you get home."
"If I get home," Clarus corrected him.
"When." Nyle shot back without missing a beat.
There wasn't any room for talk like that. Not tonight, not ever. Nyle didn't care how foolish it was to truly think that there was some way that he and Clarus could both feasibly go back to their respective Districts. But if the idea alone was enough to carry him as far as possible, then he was okay with dwelling on it.
The District Ten boy, grinning sheepishly, accepted his defeat and shrugged his shoulders as he scratched at the back of his neck, "I'd sure like to. I love her. She's real great. I could see myself spendin' the rest of my life with her, no doubt about it. Just like I could see you being my best man."
Nyle gave an exaggerated groan, allowing the smile on his lips to remain, "You're never gonna let this go, are you?"
"No, I'm not. But, don't worry, I've got plenty of other ideas too. Like you've gotta play some baseball with me." Clarus said, "And, there's this little store back home that sells the sweetest ice cream you've ever tasted. Plus, during the winter, the snow's perfect for sleddin'. Me and Eliza have this favorite hill, oh man, you'd love it. You could even bring Isla along!"
"Well, then I look forward to seeing it when I come down for your wedding… With Isla, of course." Nyle grinned.
Clarus leaned forward and gave him a playful slug in the arm, "I knew you'd come around."
"You kidding? I wouldn't miss it for the world. You're a real pal, yanno?" Nyle winked, "Plus, I won't lie, I look amazing in a suit and tie."
"Then we'll make it happen. To us," Clarus said as he raised his glass.
Nyle tapped his glass against Clarus', nodding his head, "To us."
HENRY STRATUM, DISTRICT NINE
10:24 PM, THE AFTERPARTY, PRICE BANQUET HALL
Henry didn't want tonight to end.
As much as he was a fan of living in the moment, he couldn't fend off the thought from the back of his mind. It didn't matter how many drinks he had, it didn't matter who he danced with, and it didn't matter who he talked to. Nothing could completely detach him from the anxiety that, for the first time in his life, was hovering over him.
Henry was most definitely inebriated, too. He knew that much for sure and even that hadn't helped. The significant decrease in his field of vision, the notable lack of his usual balance, and the way his words rolled sloppily off of his tongue were enough to tip him off that he'd had a few too many. It wasn't his fault, though! The Capitol had offered the drinks in the first place. It would've been rude to refuse.
The District Nine boy had worked his way up to… Well, he didn't know how many drinks, exactly. But what he did know was that he felt fantastic now! He'd been mingling like a natural all night long, as well as busting out dance moves that he didn't know he could do. When he'd pulled Sonora onto the dance floor, he'd swung her around and laughed with her until both of them were out of breath. After that, he'd actually managed to get Nicholas onto the dance floor for a whopping total of fifty seconds.
For now, he was taking a break from the dancing, but he was already itching for his next attempt at a distraction. He had plopped down at one of the tables that his allies—No, his friends, had claimed earlier. Elesa and Nicholas were sitting and chatting while Atticus had run off somewhere on his own. Henry wasn't even sure where Nami had gotten to, but he was sure that she was fine. That girl made friends wherever she went. As for Atticus, well… Henry couldn't help but wonder where he'd ended up. It was so like him to wander off and do his own thing.
He'd grown fond of the guy pretty quickly. Henry felt like he was pretty easy to get along with and he appreciated his sense of humor. It didn't feel like he was as light-hearted about most things, like Henry was, but he supposed that that was what he liked. Atticus didn't concern himself with the fluffy details of life, opting to address the gritty and harsh nature of the things he witnessed and knew about. Henry liked spending time with him. In many ways, Atticus was his opposite, while also matching him in some regards.
He would make a fine distraction, just like he'd made a fine friend and a fine addition to the alliance.
"You guys seen Atticus?" Henry asked Elesa and Nicholas.
Nicholas shook his head, "No, sorry."
Elesa shrugged her shoulders, "I think I last saw him heading to the balcony… Er, Henry?"
"Huh?" Henry asked as he wiped at his eyes, as if trying to rub away the bleariness from his vision.
"Are you going to be okay? For tomorrow. You've kind of had a lot to drink, don't you think?" Elesa said.
"Oh, you didn't hear?" Henry started, "O-On the way out, they're gonna give us these little drinks… They're blue and foamy and they kind of smell like… Like soap! And you drink it and it prevents y-you from getting a hangover. No consequence."
Elesa blinked as Henry pointed finger guns at her, uncertain of whether he was telling the truth. Nicholas, who had actually been babysitting him for a while during the night, nodded along.
"Yeah, the uh… The bartender said they have some kind of drink to help with it. Like the drinks they have for eating more, or… Stuff like that, I guess." Nicholas confirmed.
"Thank you, Nico! Now, if you'll excuse me," Henry pushed himself out of the seat that he'd only been in for about thirty seconds, stumbling off toward the balcony.
As he navigated through the densely packed room, Henry's head swam. He occasionally brushed against a Capitolite or some other stranger as he meandered closer to the huge doors that opened out onto the balcony. When he broke through the final crowd, Henry found himself right at the threshold of the balcony.
The cool air from outside felt wonderful on his hot skin. He gulped in the fresh air before stepping further out onto the balcony. The white marble balcony had been so intricately carved. It reminded Henry of how he imagined the castles in the stories they were told in elementary school. Then again, the Capitol really did feel like one giant kingdom. It was impressively large and it seemed they wasted no money nor effort in ensuring that everything looked as grand as possible. This banquet hall was certainly no exception.
Henry moved up to the railing and looked over it. Sure enough, there was a forcefield down below to ensure that no one jumped off—Though, Henry had a sneaking suspicion that it was placed there for the Tributes in attendance more than it was for the Capitolite crowd. He snickered as he ran his fingers along the polished marble of the railing, turning to look at the far side of the balcony. He could just barely make out a figure sitting atop the railing, but he was almost certain it was Atticus.
"A-Atticus!" Henry called with a smile on his face, prompting the District Twelve boy to turn around.
Somehow, he'd managed to procure a fancy-looking Capitol cigarette. The cigarette paper was black and the tipping paper was a metallic gold. There was an impossibly intricate logo on the tipping paper that had been printed on in black, but almost appeared engraved into the cigarette. Henry whistled as Atticus took a long drag off of it before exhaling it slowly. The ghost-like smoke floated away from his lips and disappeared into the cool night air.
Atticus was the picture of badass tonight. He was wearing an expensive-looking black jacket that was covered in floral print. Beneath that, he had a partially buttoned white shirt on, and he also sported a choker around his neck that was adorned with spikes. His hair had been swept back and he had a single sparkling hoop earring on, though Henry couldn't tell if it was real or fake. It didn't matter, anyway. What mattered was that he looked good as hell.
Atticus patted the space on the railing beside him and Henry happily joined him. As he fumbled his way up, Atticus grabbed him by the arm and snickered, helping him to sit down and maintain his balance. Henry attempted to focus on the view. From here, some of the Capitol apartment buildings were visible. Atticus sighed and Henry switched his gaze over to the boy by his side. He didn't look angry, but he certainly looked contemplative.
"What's wrong, man?" Henry wanted to know.
"Ah, we both know what's wrong, don't we?" Atticus said, "No fucking point in talking about it, though. Sours the mood."
Henry nodded, pointing to the cigarette, "How'd… How'd you get that?"
Blowing out another stream of smoke, Atticus lifted the cigarette up and inspected it, "This nice lady gave me a whole pack. It's crazy what people are willing to give you when they think you're gonna die tomorrow."
"Yeah," Henry laughed, "Like drinks!"
"Exactly." Atticus snickered, "How many have you had?"
"Think I lost count. W-What about you?"
"We've got an actual fucking madman on our hands. Looks like nobody here is safe tonight." Atticus teased, "I stopped after my fifth. Unlike you, though, I handle my alcohol like a champ."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa… Whoa, dude. Are you calling me a lightweight? Because… Because if you are, we're going to have beef. I'm vicious, I'm strong, and I'm handsome. I'm a triple threat." Henry wiggled his eyebrows at Atticus, who rolled his eyes.
"You're ridiculous."
"Don't be shy, Atticus. You love it! C'mon! Why else would you have joined my crew, huh?"
"You're embarrassing yourself," Atticus nudged him in the arm as he took another drag off of his cigarette.
Henry shrugged his shoulders, "Couldn't happen. Not now, not ever. I don't… I don't ever get embarrassed. It's just not in my DNA."
The smirk that sprawled across Atticus' lips was utterly diabolical. Luckily for Henry, he hadn't even been looking when the devilish smile had manifested on Atticus' lips. He veiled the mirth by pursing his lips and then relaxing them.
"You don't ever get embarrassed, huh? That's pretty impressive," Atticus noted.
Henry nodded, "Yup."
"Then you wouldn't mind if I offered you a shotgun, would you?"
A puzzled look made itself known on Henry's face, "A what?"
"A shotgun. You've never had one before?"
"It doesn't sound familiar… Either way, it doesn't matter. I'm not shy enough to get embarrassed."
"Right, right… So, do you want one?" Atticus asked.
Henry's lips twitched. Was Atticus going to try to embarrass him or something? There wasn't anyone else on the balcony right now, so he didn't see a way that such a thing could feasibly work—Not that it was going to work, anyway.
"Sure. Hit me." Henry shrugged his shoulders.
Atticus nodded as he placed the cigarette between his lips and took a significantly long drag. Henry almost wondered if Atticus was going to pass out from just how long he took in the smoke. When he pulled the cigarette way from his lips, he flicked what remained of it over the edge of the balcony and grabbed the sides of Henry's face in his hands. The District Nine boy's eyes widened as Atticus' lips met his own, his mouth slightly ajar. He felt the tickle of smoke against the roof of his mouth and the back of his throat as Atticus exhaled it into his mouth.
When Atticus had no more left to give, he allowed his lips to linger for a moment before he pulled away. Henry could only sit there, his eyes still as big as saucers and his face morphing into a vibrant shade of red. Was he completely sober now? How had that happened? It was clear that Atticus had won their little dispute in one fell swoop, and he knew it too, seeing as he was boasting the smuggest grin Henry had ever seen. The District Twelve boy leaned back a bit, distributing his weight onto his hands and letting out a throaty laugh.
Henry felt a sheepish grin spread across his lips for what was quite possibly the first time in his life. He pushed Atticus, gently, and then placed his hands in his lap in defeat. A moment of quiet passed between them and Henry cleared his throat, looking to the other boy.
"So, um… That wasn't, like… Gay… Was it?"
Atticus looked at him, biting his bottom lip as he fended off the beginnings of yet another smile, "I think it was whatever you want it to be, Henry."
"I see, I see…" Henry nodded, "Just for clarity's sake, what exactly was it to you?"
"If I told you, I'd have to kill you," Atticus answered.
Henry could only laugh, "Fair enough… Are you free tomorrow?"
"Yeah, my schedule just opened up, actually."
"Great, then I'll meet up with you around… Say, noon? The Arena?"
Atticus snickered, "It's a fuckin' date."
SETT EPICUS, DISTRICT ELEVEN
10:52 PM, THE AFTERPARTY, PRICE BANQUET HALL
Under Mephisto's Haven and the watchful eye of District Eleven, Sett had never really had the time to attend a party. He supposed he didn't hate it. It was interesting enough in its own right. There was no shortage of people to talk to and no shortage of entertainment to be found. He'd already seen one of the Careers acting like a damn fool before being escorted off to the exterior hallway to be disciplined by another. There had also been the ridiculous dance moves from the outer District kids.
It felt strangely normal, too. Being around everyone in such a casual manner was a far cry from the atmosphere that Sett had grown accustomed to over the course of training. Tributes who he hadn't even seen say a word were smiling and cracking jokes amongst themselves. Other Tributes were just trying to make the most of what they figured were their last hours on earth. If Sett could've, he would've pitied them.
Instead, he looked down on them. The difference between the competition was palpable. The Careers had come here to bask in the glow of their successes, to be praised by the Capitolites, and to garner even more sponsors by making personal connections. They were still employing the very strategies that they had been taught to use at the Academy. Meanwhile, the other Tributes had come here to enjoy the feeling of normalcy before the world was inevitably turned on its head. It was a last ditch effort to feel something other than immeasurable dread.
Sett, on the other hand, was feeling more at ease than he thought he would. He had arrived to the afterparty in his interview outfit, though his Stylist had insisted that he remove the black cape that had been paired with the blood red tuxedo. It was fine, though. Sett still felt like he looked every bit as dashing as he had at the interview. Besides, it was impossible to miss him regardless of what he was wearing. Sett Epicus had always demanded the attention of others, even if he wasn't trying to.
Even as he sat at one of the tables near the bar, he was being noticed by others. A few Capitolites had stopped to greet him, others had asked him for photos or for autographs. It was an interesting experience, to say the very least. Sett had been relaxing and enjoying a glass of what was most likely the most expensive alcohol he would ever drink in his life when someone approached him.
"Sett Epicus, District Eleven, correct?" A soft, eloquent voice fell upon his ears before he had even gotten a good look at who was standing beside his table.
When his eyes found the girl from District One, he was surprised, though it didn't show on his face, "That's right."
"I'm Aenea Regina Singh. District One." She said, extending a hand to him.
Sett nodded, "I know."
He took her hand in his own, shaking it firmly. Her grip was tight, but her hands were soft. Sett almost found it comical how delicate her hand felt in his own. Those hands had been trained to use more weapons than he had held in his lifetime. Those were the hands of a killer. And yet, they were smooth and dainty.
"I was wondering if you'd like to have a chat with me. Maybe even a dance." Aenea suggested, to which Sett's brow nearly furrowed, "I think it would be good for Capitol buzz if they saw two top competitors like you and I spending a little time together, wouldn't you agree?"
Sett looked around. Already, there were eyes on himself and the girl from One. She was observant. She was smart. If she wanted to have a chat, then Sett was more than happy to do so. There wasn't any reason for him not to, either, seeing as both of his allies had already checked in for the night and nothing would likely come of it, anyway. It was getting rather late, but it seemed that the mind of the District One Career never tired. Sett respected that.
The District Eleven boy rose from his seat and offered his arm to Aenea. The dark-haired girl held onto his bicep as they walked to the dance floor, which was considerably less populated than it had been for most of the night. Even though there were fewer people occupying the space than before, there would still be enough to keep himself and Aenea concealed from the gazes of the other Tributes who remained at the banquet hall.
The music had gone from consisting of mostly jaunty and upbeat songs to featuring more slow-paced and measured numbers. It seemed like the Capitol was trying to tire out the partygoers in the hopes of getting them to head back for the night. Sett wasn't going anywhere until he heard what Aenea had to say.
He would sleep when he was dead.
Aenea wrapped her arms around Sett's neck, her tall stature allowing her to do so with ease. Sett tentatively placed his hands on her hips, conscious not to place them too low. Dancing with Aenea was certainly the juxtaposition from seeing her in the training hall just this morning. She seemed more fit for the dance of battle, but even now she seemed remarkably at ease with less intensive choreography.
"Let's talk," Sett said quietly as he and Aenea found a shared rhythm.
"Eager to get down to business," Aenea smiled, "I respect that."
Sett nearly smiled. She respected him. A Career had uttered that she respected him, Sett Epicus.
He respected her, of course. She was a Career—And, judging from what he had seen over the past few days, she was their leader. That had to count for something. The strength she had demonstrated during training was impossible to ignore. Sett recognized the immense potential that she had to win the Games. If nothing else, she was one of his most noteworthy competitors.
And she respected him.
"I want to try to keep this brief…" Aenea started, her voice low, "I'm sure you've noticed the outer District pest who weaseled his way into the Pack. The one from Five."
Sett nodded, "Isaac."
"Right," Aenea carried on, "I wanted to ask you if you'd be willing to help me fix that little problem. I can't ask anyone in the Career Pack. You can't trust them as far as you can throw them. But, you… You're strong and clearly you've got brains, because we're having this conversation and I haven't sought out someone else for this job…"
The District Eleven boy couldn't help but let his eyebrows lift slightly in surprise. The forwardness that Aenea was demonstrating was appreciated, but almost dumbfounding. It was clear that she was playing this Game with the most detached mindset possible. The people around her were not human beings, they were pawns. She would determine what moves she made with them and the pieces would fall into line accordingly.
"Surprised? How rich. I would never be stupid enough to think that I'm better than you just because I'm a Career and you're not." Aenea said.
Again, Sett nodded, "So, what do you need from me, then?"
"Kill him."
The way that it so easily rolled off of her tongue didn't shock Sett. This was a girl who had been trained her entire life for this sort of thing. To her, it was no different than hacking the head off of a training dummy. Sett knew that he was going to have to kill people, but he needed to adapt a similar mindset to Aenea's if he wanted to make it easier on himself. This was only a trial of strength, after all.
"When?"
"Not the bloodbath, if that's what you're asking me. If someone else kills him, that's fine… If not, I'll let him stick with us for a few days. I want you to stay close. Follow the Pack and I from a distance. If you do, I can offer you supplies during my watches. Obviously we'd be in communication, so I'd tell you when I want him dead… I'd imagine once numbers start dwindling. And who knows, mabe you could even make my day and take out Vitus while you're at it, too." Aenea said.
Sett thought about it for a moment, "What about my alliance?"
"What about them?" Aenea asked as the song drew to a close and she released her arms from around his neck, "They're disposable, aren't they? It's you or them."
She was right. It was him or them. He was stuck between a rock and a hard place. The dark-haired boy could hardly believe that a Career of all people had approached him to take out another Career, possibly even two. Sett was conflicted. Doing what Aenea said likely meant effectively thinning the number of Careers in the competition. That was really good news for him. However, he had pledged his loyalty to Tyrell, Kolton, and Maine. Sett stepped back from Aenea, placing his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
"I need to think on it." He answered.
"So be it. I expect an answer by tomorrow night. If I don't hear anything, I'll assume that it's a no," Aenea said as she took a step away before turning to look at him over her shoulder, "And if it's a no, don't follow the Pack… You don't want to find out what could happen to you when you cross paths with a Career in the Arena."