The doors closed behind Willow just as before. The same sick, shrinking feeling made its way to her stomach. It was very late already.
Snow wore a burgundy smoking jacket, even though Willow was quite sure he didn't smoke. He sat at the foot of the bed watching her as she came in.
She wore a grey ballroom dress puffing out in all directions from her waist and her shoulders. Her hair was braided up intricately and large white jewels hung from her neck and her ears.
"Welcome back, darling," Snow said with a grin, "You look marvelous."
"Thank you, sir," Willow said, "I feel horrendous."
The president laughed softly and stood up. He placed himself behind her and with practiced fingers, loosened her dress.
"Now, then," he said as she slipped the dress off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor, "don't say I never do anything for you."
Willow laughed slightly, stepping out of the crumpled gray mound of fabric toward him. She took a seat at the table and waited for the president to announce his plans for her second visit.
He took a seat across from her with a grunt and looked at her for a while, his head tilted. There was an almost accusatory flicker in his eyes.
"I don't suppose you're planning on teaching me another dance," Willow said finally.
"Miss Astoroth," Snow said, "I must say I'm rather surprised at your actions."
Willow gulped. "Sir?"
She tried to sound calm but her mind began to race, wondering what she might have done. Had she said something wrong on the Victory Tour? All her speeches had been written for her. It couldn't be that.
"I would've thought you'd had your fill of older men taking advantage of you," he said with a threatening smile, "Our arrangement is one thing, but for you to enter willingly into another similar situation, well, that's another thing entirely."
Willow took a deep breath, closing her eyes as she did so. Her hands balled nervously into white fists.
She opened her eyes, leaned forward and clasped her hands together.
"I was under the impression, sir," she said, "that the rest of the year was mine to do with as I please."
The president leaned forward also, as if challenging her.
"I never expressed disapproval, dear," he said in a low voice, "Only surprise. You are, of course, free to do as you wish."
"But you'll be watching," Willow concluded.
Snow smiled and lifted his glass of wine to her before taking a drink.
Willow drank as well, assuming that was the end of it. She was wrong.
"Is it a purely sexual arrangement between you and Mister Abernathy?" the president asked.
Willow choked on her wine. She coughed softly and dabbed her mouth with a napkin. Snow smirked.
"I'm not sure I would even call it that," she replied after a moment, "It's more of a sleeping arrangement. We haven't, ah… been intimate since before my games."
Snow chuckled. "But make no mistake, darling, that's what he wants. He is playing the long game, of course, making you feel safe and loved, gaining your complete trust. All for the goal of taking you whenever it pleases him."
Willow sighed, marking his words. "That might not be so bad. At least he tries to make me feel safe and loved."
Snow picked up his fork and knife.
"Safety is never a guarantee. And I don't suppose there are many people left who truly love you, if there are any," he said, just as casually as if he'd commented on the weather.
Willow crossed her arms. His words cut as deeply as his knife into the meat on his plate, mostly because she had thought them herself. With all her relatives gone, who did she really have left? Is that why she felt so drawn to Haymitch? A longing for some kind of connection?
Snow finished chewing and gestured to her plate with his knife. "You should eat the filet while it's still warm. The flavor is exquisite."
Her hands reached forward automatically. She felt herself shaking, this time from shock and anger. For a moment she pictured herself jamming the steak knife into his neck. But what then?
She took a bite of the tender meat on her plate and had to admit it was exquisite as he'd said.
"The tour went well," Snow commented.
"Yes," Willow agreed, though she'd hated every minute of it.
"I thought your speeches were very well done," the president continued, "you sounded very sincere."
"Hm," Willow grunted, "I'm glad you thought so."
The two of them finished eating in silence.
"You look tired, my dear," Snow said, "I hope you can stay awake. I had something special planned."
"And what is that?" Willow asked.
The president stood and offered her both of his hands. She took them and he helped her to her feet. He wrapped his arm around her waist. His hand was cold against her skin.
He led her out of the room and down the dimmed hallway. As they walked, Snow began one of his usual coughing fits using his free hand to pull a handkerchief from his pocket.
Willow glanced sideways at him as he dabbed a bit of blood from his lips.
"A side effect of your age, Coriolanus?" she asked, half joking.
Snow smiled. "A consequence for my success."
Willow didn't ask what he meant but let him lead her silently to a pair of tall glass doors. Here, he removed his jacket and helped her into it, covering her bare shoulders.
The doors led to a spacious balcony. The night was calm but a chill hung in the air. The alabaster sucked the warmth out of Willow's feet almost immediately. An odd metal contraption stood on three legs near the railing.
"I thought you would enjoy a bit of stargazing, my dear," Snow explained, looking through the eyepiece and adjusting it.
"What use does the president have for a telescope?" Willow asked.
Snow motioned her forward and placed a hand softly on her back as she looked into the telescope.
"I find when things on Earth aren't quite making sense, the stars will always be exactly where they ought to be," the president explained.