V. THE LUCKY BASTARD

Queentex, latex, I'm your wonder maid
Life gave me some lemons so I made some lemonade
Soda pop, soda pop, baby, here I come
Straight to number one

LAVISH TARRO
DISTRICT ONE

The wheels of his bright blue roller skates slide back and forth against the smooth concrete in Ichor's central plaza. If it weren't for the shit-eating grin on his face, it would seem like Lavish's an anxious wreck. But of course he isn't. He's the Lavish Tarro for Panem's sake, and just because he's rocking back and forth in his seat, plastic against the ground going clack-clack-clack, doesn't mean he's nervous.

It seems like the Escort's been blabbering for hours on how the Games are an important part of Panemian history, and to be completely honest, Lavish think's she's insufferable, ironic coming from him but nevertheless the truth. He fiddles with a turquoise colored button on his shimmery jacket which is for the record not the smartest idea for the middle of July, and he tries to relax. It's the most important day of his life, or something like that.

My stars, I'm a hot piece of ass, Lavish thinks as the Escort swirls her hand in a glass bowl of names to decide the Female Tribute, or rather the poor girl who'll be on stage in embarrassment for thirty seconds before somebody, shit, I forget who, raises their hand and saves her from her death. It's not exactly important to him, Why am I so fucking cool?

She pulls out a female name, "Verity Sinclair," but before the girl can even get to the stage, Lavish notices a girl coated in red, that better not be blood, from across the pen raise her hand and announce, "I Volunteer," before masquerading on to the stage.

He snickers to himself, Why is everybody in District One so fucking dramatic, as if he isn't wearing roller skates so that he can glide across the plaza like a prima donna. But then again, it's what Lavish Tarro deserves.

The District One boy is an important young lad, everybody knows it and he certainly does too. There's a reason he was chosen to Volunteer after all, I'm just the best… well… no, I'm the best.

Lavish can't really blame the Escort for being a bit weirded out by the hopefully-not-blood girl, but as soon as she's gotten over that shock, she's right back to sticking her hand into the glass so she can pick the lucky bastard Lavish gets to save by volunteering.

"Meursault Monroe," And a small boy with pale skin steps out of the twelves pen. He's wearing a black tuxedo with a red bowtie, and well sure, it would be easy to say he looks like a nerd, Lavish actually digs the "so bad it's good" aspect of his outfit. Unlike his District partner, Lavish is patient with the ordeal, though Mersault looks a bit nervous on the stage, a small tear forming in the corner of his eye like he's actually in danger of getting sent into the arena, but soon enough the Escort asks, "Do we have any volunteers?"

Lavish takes a quick look down at his purple nail polish to make sure it hasn't chipped before sliding out of his seat and raising one of his hands into the air, "I volunteer!"

He grins like an idiot, brushing his feet against the ground to gain momentum. And just like that, Lavish is practically flying across the surface, and cherishing the wind in his hair. Everybody's staring at him, and well that's just excellent, because why else would he go roller-skating during the reaping ceremony if it wasn't to get everybody to stare at him.

It's not long before Lavish reaches the front of the crowd, sliding up the ramp meant for people with disabilities, spinning in a circle before standing as close as he can get to center stage and taking a bow which leads to the audience's validating applause.

"Well aren't you a chipper young man?" The escort giggles

And he responds, "I'm not just a chipper young man, I'm Lavish Tarro, Victor of the 94th Hunger Games."

He can never sit still when his mother paints his nails. And it isn't for a lack of trying, no of course not, Lavish always does his best to ensure his posture is straight as he sits back in the somewhat flimsy wooden chair with a rose-printed cushion, his hands reaching down across the coffee table so Polish Tarro can coat her son's fingernails in shiny lacquer.

"Lavish please," Polish pleads after he's smudged his left pinky for the second time that afternoon, "I've told you a hundred times over, you can't touch your nails until they're dry."

He sighs, "Well clearly, I thought they were dry," and he rolls his eyes at his mother.

Polish laughs at her son, only eight years old, all bright eyed and bushy tailed, "Why did you think that Lavish? I painted them not even five minutes ago."

He knows that his mother takes nail art very seriously, it's one of her biggest passions besides fortune telling after all, but that doesn't make the waiting all the more easier for Lavish. But he loves his mother, and he rarely gets to spend time with her nowadays, as it seems she's always out of the house doing whatever it is adult women do, so he cherishes their brief moments, which usually come in the form of nail time.

Lavish's always been a fan of the bright colors on the tips of his fingers, the fancy patterns his mother lays out with ease. It's a nice break, he reckons, all the light that Polish casts on his nails proves to be rather different and definitely better than well… Lavish's father.

"You know me mom, I just get impatient," He admits as she once again paints a yellow flower on his pinky. It's neater than her previous attempts, as if she's trying to influence Lavish to not mess them up this time.

He waves his pinky around in the air as if it'll help it dry quicker, when he knows it certainly won't, as Polish's told him several times. But he doesn't listen, anyways. He knows that his time with his mother is always borrowed, so he might as well do whatever it takes to maximize that time, which means messing up several nails here and there because he won't be allowed to leave if his nails aren't perfect.

And if Lavish leaves his mother's side, well that means he'll have to spend time with his father, which isn't exactly ideal.

"What are you two doing?" Modish Tarro storms into the parlor just then, a sense of purpose in his tone and posture, "Nails again?"

Lavish frowns, already knowing how the conversations are going to occur. His father will yell at his mother for engaging him in such "docile activity," and then go on some long ramble about how his son's going to inherit their company some day, and he can't do that unless he "grows a spine."

"I like them," Lavish smiles slightly, "And I like spending time with my mother."

"You can spend time with your mother later," Modish boasts, knowing deep inside that his wife will in fact not have time for Lavish. Again, she's a very busy lady.

"She'll be busy later," It takes everything in him to not cross his arms and ruin his nails.

And Polish matches her son's tone, "I'll be busy later."

"Of course you'll be," Modish mutters, and then he says something about alcohol that Lavish doesn't really understand.

His father leaves after that, and the two of them sit in silence for a moment so that Lavish's nails can dry. He can't tell if there's a tear in his eye or not, but he doesn't want to ask about it. It's not his place, he figures. They're dealing with adult things that he probably shouldn't meddle in, even if his father wants him meddling in the company sooner rather than later.

But he does say this, "You're my favorite parent." And Polish's disgruntled expression turns into one of joy, "Dad frustrates me sometimes with all the business talk. At least you do what I want to do."

Lavish blows on his nail before his mother responds, "You're a lovely son."

And then Lavish hears his name being called out by his father so he yanks himself right up and out of his seat and hollers, "Coming!"

He looks back at his mother once more before he goes, "Thank you for today."

And Polish Tarro does something rare, she smiles.

Garnish is the only thing that Lavish enjoys about the meetings his father forces him to sit through. And of course, of course, the small virtual cat he fits in his pocket doesn't have anything to do with his father. Garnish is a gift from his mother, and maybe that's one of the reasons Lavish found himself to be so completely obsessed with the little critter. It's small enough that he can fit it under his desk and pretend to take it on walks and feed it.

It's made by his father too, since his company Tarro Co. is perhaps the most successful toy manufacturer in District One, and they're getting pretty close to dominating the Capitol too. And Lavish's expected to fill in his father's shoes one day, but for now…

"Put that away," Modish grunts at him in the midst of one of the meetings he's been dragged too, a bunch of sleazy men gathered around a table in a room that smells like cologne, "Pay attention."

But it's hard for Lavish to do so. His father's going on some rant about how nobody's buying their fortune cards and it's a topic the nine-year old boy doesn't know anything about, really. So Lavish just throws on a fake smile and taps his toes against the ground as if he knows exactly why the people in District One don't want to buy the little cards his mother actually enjoyed quite a bit, nodding his head every few minutes so that it appears he's paying attention and understanding.

"What do your friends say, Lavish?" It's not uncommon for one of Modish's colleagues to ask him this every once in a while, "Do you ever hear them in school talking about why they haven't bought fortune cards."

He sighs; in all honesty, Lavish has never been all that close with the other kids in his grade. They all say he's too exuberant, too fanciful and flamboyant, and that makes them "uncomfortable," or something. Maybe it's the bright nails and shiny clothing that Lavish insists on wearing every day that leads to such harsh judgements, but he's not the sort to change his appearance for the comfort of some adolescent twerps he doesn't really care about. Besides, his mother says that he's just fine the way he is, and if Polish says it then it has to be true.

"Well…" He tries to make something up about the kids in his school, but his words slur and he has no idea what to say to this room of people with fancy jackets and slicked back hair.

"Lavish doesn't really know all that much about the other kids," Modish cuts him off, and for once, he's actually thankful for that, "He's busy studying to get into Elysium."

The man who asked the question nods, "Ah, very smart of you Modish."

Lavish doesn't quite understand his father's obsession with Elysium, some fancy academy where he's supposed to train in to volunteer for the Hunger Games but wait… he's not supposed to do too well that he's actually whisked off to the Capitol, Lavish just has to make connections with the other rich kids so his father can grow the company.

But the reality is also this, Lavish hasn't studied a day of his life for the entrance exam. His father already dumped a small fortune onto the laps of Elysium's admissions officers and he's already guaranteed a spot. Still, he doesn't mind telling people that he's studying because then they'll get off his back and he can have peace to some extent.

"I agree," He notices the man is looking to him to validate his father's decisions, "I'm so grateful for the opportunities I'll have if I am so lucky enough to attend the academy. I'm sure to meet some great people which will help our company soar."

Lavish can't help but notice that he sounds the slightest bit robotic when he speaks, but that's what his father wants from him anyways . To Modish, it doesn't matter if Lavish is happy or not, he has one job and one job only, to take over Tarro Co. and ensure the family fortune lives to see another day.

"You've raised a good one, Mod," He hears as he puts his head under the table once more so that he can play with Garnish.

It's the night before Lavish is supposed to go to Elysium for the first time, and for what seems like the first time in forever, his mother is tucking the eleven-year-old in before he sleeps. She's always out at bars these days and their time together has gotten less and less bountiful, yet Lavish still appreciates every last moment of it.

"Thank you for saying goodnight to me," He says, just about ready to sleep in his large bed with turquoise sheets and a velvet headboard, "I'll miss you when I'm training."

Polish doesn't leave her son's side though, instead she digs into her pocket and pulls out a deck of fortune cards. Lavish sees his mother with the cards a lot so he doesn't get the big deal at the time, though he'd understand later why that night mattered so much.

"Don't go to sleep just yet," Polish carefully removes the cards from their protective sleeve and holds them out. Lavish has always admired the beauty of the fortune cards, even if not many others do. The pastel blue backs with gold-laced embossment in crystalized patterns and all sorts of intricately painted designs on the front, each with their own unique meaning. While Lavish doesn't know the exact meaning of each and every card the same way his mother does, it doesn't prevent him from admiring just how beautiful they are. And he isn't sure if they can actually predict the future the way Polish says they do, but they do tend to be correct about things on occasion —but then again that could just be Lavish projecting.

"Are you going to do a reading for yourself?" Lavish asks, positioning himself on the edge of the bed so that he can see his mother on the ground and the cards better.

"No, no," She nods her head in response, "I'm going to be doing a reading for you, dear boy."

He blushes a bit, those simple words of admiration from his mother more than his father will ever be able to provide him, "Why?"

She doesn't read Lavish's fortune often, so he's curious why now? Besides the obvious, which is that the next day is indeed a big day for him, Lavish doesn't think that anything's really changed in the grand scheme of things. He was always going to go to Elysium, but it doesn't really matter since it's not like he's there to try ridiculously hard. He just needs to meet people for his father, still when he received his acceptance letter in the mail that declared him, "A hopeful candidate to someday represent our District in the arena," part of Lavish wondered if he could actually do it. But of course, he couldn't. His father would be furious and he wasn't there for those reasons anyways.

"Tomorrow's important," Polish answered, her hand cupping her son's cheek, "I know you're not going to actually go into the Games, but training at Elysium is still a big honor."

"But do I really deserve it if the only reason I'm there is because dad paid them?" Lavish kind of did horribly on his test yet he was admitted.

"You're brilliant in ways you don't even know yet," His mother smiles before cutting the deck into several piles, laying them out on the carpet by Lavish's bed and then rearranging the stacks of cards in a new order, "Trust me on this one, you're going to do remarkable things some day."

"Like what?" Lavish wants to ask but he's afraid that'll ruin his mother's flow that she gets into when she's drawing the fortune cards.

Carefully, Polish taps the deck twice then removes the top card and lays it next to her son on the bed. He scoots closer to the card to examine it's design and he finds a beautiful yellow star drawn on the thick parchment, "What's this one mean?" Lavish asks his mother, handing the card to her with a half-smile.

"Well as you can see, this is the Star," Polish explains, an odd sense of worry in her voice that Lavish doesn't quite digest, "It means…" Her voice wavers, "There's abandonment in your future."

Lavish scratches the side of his head, hoping she doesn't mean what he thinks she does, "You're not leaving me, right?"

His mother shakes profusely, "Of course not, dear. I'll be with you forever." So Lavish lets out a side of relief before Polish asks him, "Can you draw a card for me?"

He's still a bit afraid but he does what his mother asks and pulls the first card off the deck examining the design, a man in black and red hung upside down before handing it to her.

"Oh…" She shudders, pulling the card away into her pocket and then shakes her head profusely, "I'll figure this out, okay?"

Lavish is worried but he nods his head in agreement anyways. He knows his mother is big on fate and he doesn't want to ruin it… Still he doesn't understand why his mother looked so flustered, nearly dead inside when she saw the card that Lavish had drawn.

The next morning Lavish wakes up to the loud sound of trucks. It's unusual given the fact the Tarros live in a remarkably quiet neighborhood, so the first thing he does is put on his slippers and run into his mother's room to ask her what all the commotion is. She's never shared with his father, something about the desire for personal space she has.

And as Lavish crosses through the hall of the upper floor of the manor, he's grown weary as the scent of perfume and nail polish he's come to expect from Polish's quarters is missing. But he shrugs it off by rationalizing that she's just asleep still. There's a skip in his step too, Lavish is ridiculously thrilled to begin his schooling, but his steps quiet down as soon as he sees that his mother's room is completely empty.

Gone are her jewelry trays and piles of neat clothing, and instead there's clean floors barren of clutter, and the walls are no longer covered in family photos and paintings. Where Lavish's smiling face by his parents once hung, there's just holes where the nails once were.

He's confused, Where did she go? But it doesn't matter where she is because she's not here. Polish isn't with her son or her family… she's gone, almost as fast as the wind sweeps the leaves off their porch.

Lavish wonders if it's his fault somehow. He reflects on the previous night and the way his mother was so fettered by the cards she pulled… Did the cards tell her to leave? Is my mom really gone just because the cards sent her away. Polish Tarro has always been a strong believer in the fortune cards and their power, that much is true, but she said she'd never leave me. She promised… and Lavish wants to cry but he's so worried his father will hear him and scold him on how "Tarro men are strong," since crying over his mother wouldn't be very strong of Lavish now would it? And he wonders if he should have shuffled the cards differently, would his mother still be there? Lavish has been told the cards create luck, but if his mother leaving is their definition of it, then he'll just create luck himself.

There's only one piece of furniture that remains in the room, and it's Polish's bed stripped of it's sheets, just the mattress and the frame. Lavish gets closer and notices a white fluffy object entering his peripherals. At first he thinks, It must be a pillow, but as he gets closer and sees the thing move… it's clear he isn't in the presence of an inanimate object.

A small meow clues Lavish in as to what's on the bed, a petite white kitten with a red collar around its neck. He extends his hand on the mattress, the animal crawling towards him and putting his paw on Lavish. He looks at the collar and sees "Garnish" engraved into the metal.

Again, Lavish wants to cry as he remembers the toy his father destroyed a few months ago for being "too distracting" to his potential success. But now Garnish is here, small cream-colored paws and pearly blue eyes, and there's no way Modish can take him away now. He strokes the cat's fur, wondering if his mother will ever come back and if Garnish is just a parting gift or not.

But his nails are messed up now and school's soon so Lavish tries his best to find something left in the room that can fix them yet instead he hears his father, "I'm taking you to Elysium," and his voice is booming and strong and Lavish is so afraid, he feels the tears forming in his eyes.

"Wait a second, father," He calls in disgust, trying his best not to startle Garnish, but he can hear Modish's footsteps moving up the stairs. So Lavish turns around and sees the stern look in his father's eyes, his arms crossed, and all he can say is, "Dad, I'm sorry."

"We have to go," Modish repeats, grabbing his son by the wrist and practically dragging him away from what used to be his mother's room, "You don't want to be late on your first day now do you?"

"Of course not," Lavish shudders, turning his head to smile back at Garnish who's seemingly unbothered.

And for the first time in what seems like his entire life, Lavish leaves the house with smudged nail polish. He thinks about how his mother left the same way that morning, and he finds himself wishing she took him too.

The remainder of Lavish's first day at Elysium isn't much better. He's always considered himself to be a remarkably impressive individual with the best clothing and the neatest hair and the strongest posture, but that isn't who he is when he enters the academy's giant golden doors, even if he didn't turn back to bid his father farewell.

His white tee-shirt that he had specially pressed for the day has snot on one of the sleeves, and the rest of it's wrinkled from being used as a tissue for his tears in the car journey, and Lavish's shorts are sagging since he didn't tie them to his body before he left the house.

Because for once, Lavish isn't sure if he can be bothered for it. He's just gone through the worst morning of his life, and now he's just expected to meet some of the most important people he'll ever meet like it's no big deal. And when he looked out the window Modish drove to Elysium, Lavish couldn't help but imagine the way his mother could have driven down the exact same roads to leave him for… maybe forever.

"Where did mother go?" He had asked his father in the car, his eyes glossed over from tears.

"None of your business," Modish's reply was serious and brief.

So Lavish had pried for more information, yet his father ignored him which only made him cry more. And it was in that state that Lavish was dropped off, his hair messy and his shoes unlaced for what was the most important day of his life thus far.

If there is one thing that both Lavish's parents agreed on, it's that first impressions and appearances are ridiculously important, yet he's now failed to present a good one for the people of Elysium. Modish had told him that he looked like a mess, and all the other kids seemed to think the exact same of him, fingers pointed at the poor crying boy.

Lavish isn't familiar with loss all that much, but he gets it now, and his confidence is shattered, he feels so broken, so underestimated, and just a disappointment.

He's gotten off on a bad foot, but he'll show them all that he's better.

When he gets home he feels compelled to shuffle the deck of fortune cards the same he did the previous night, thinking, Maybe this will fix everything, as sweat drips from his forehead. He taps the top of the deck and draws the same card he drew for Polish, the "Hanged Man" but he doesn't think much of it except, Does this mean I get to go with her?

The cards become a part of Lavish's routine, the last thing he does before school after he does his best to replicate his mother's nail art. He starts to learn what the cards mean, and one day he draws the star again but in a different position. Lavish remembers the chart, and how it said the star backwards meant "arrogance," but he just laughs.

He has people to impress, after all.

"You've improved so much," Is what Dastro, one of Lavish's trainers tells him when he's fourteen and he's just thrown his pair of combat scissors against the wall with stellar accuracy, "Seriously, Lavish, I'm impressed with how far you've come."

"I'm glad," He laughs at Dastro and winks. Sure, these gigantic scissors aren't the most practical weapon, but Lavish doesn't mind, especially since he's damn good with them. District One loves excessive flamboyance, and as it turns out, an adolescent gliding across the training floor on roller skates as he holds ancient shears meant to slaughter is just what they need, "I'm also glad I've come so far."

Lavish knows that his fighting style is absurdly impractical, but does he care? Well, not really, since people seem to give him praise for it, which is just about all Lavish wants considering it's the one thing he'll never get from his father. And he likes skating because the way those shoes with wheels feel on his feet and allow him to soar is just… euphoric to Lavish. He's convinced he's some sort of powerful figure when he's got the wheels on, even if they're not technically allowed to be worn in the gym.

"But…" Dastro grabs Lavish's shoulder before he can roll away to another station, "You're not supposed to be wearing those skates in here."

He rolls his eyes, Nobody tells me what to do, and he doesn't really see the reason his skates are banned, "Why not?" Lavish laughs.

"It's a safety hazard," Dastro crosses his arms, a smug look on his face, "If we let you wear roller-skates in the gym, we have to let everybody wear them."

"Or… You could just have it be an only me thing," Lavish suggests, deciding right then and there that he won't be taking off his roller-skates and there's nothing Dastro can do about it, "Seriously, do you really think everybody here can afford these?" He kicks up his heel and basks in the reflection of the shiny leather, "I'm one of a kind, Dastro. I'm the only person here who's ever touched a pair of shears—"

"And you're quite good at using them," He cuts Lavish off to concede.

"Precisely," Lavish smirks, "If I'm the first to do that then who's to say I can't be the first Chevalier to soar around the floor on skates." He casts his arm in an arch above his head, "District One likes when people are unique, right?"

Dastro nods his head, "Well what are you going to do if I tell you no?"

"I won't listen," Lavish laughs and glides away to the projectile weapons station.

He gets a kick out of it, because he knows that he'll do well anyways if he keeps being himself, and they wouldn't dare to kick Lavish out no matter how unruly his behavior is. Besides, it makes for a good coping mechanism, his chaos something to occupy his mind when he's dragged to his father's meetings still, again and again. He's annoyed at his father, yes, but Lavish is still eager to please him for some reason.

"There's somebody I want you to meet," Modish exclaims as he escorts his son into the car that day after training, "And I trust you'll be on your best behavior since this is a very important person."

"Of course father," Lavish sighs as he buckles his seatbelt, "Can I ask who?"

"The Minister of Finance's son," His father says, "Glissando Givenchy. He's at Elysium too and you need to impress him. Do you know what the Minister of Finance does, Lavish?"

He nods, "Of course. He manages the inflow of wealth between One and The Capitol."

Lavish isn't all that familiar with Gliss, as the other kids call him. He knows that he's a year older than him, and isn't exactly the best in his class, and he seems serious and stoic, almost like Modish, though there is a smidgen of lightheartedness to him.

"You'll be seeing him a lot as you grow up," Modish remarks, his hands on the steering wheel as he tries to maneuver their vehicle into town, "He's expected to take over for his father the same way you'll be taking over for me."

So we're in similar positions then? Lavish wonders, since he's grown to question whether or not he really wants to run Tarro Co. someday since well, the only good thing about that would be the power it comes with… which is a very heavy positive despite the fact he could easily do other things to become powerful.

And Gliss seems to be similar in that sense. Lavish quickly discovers at their initial meeting that the older boy, albeit dutiful, has the same copious ambition as him.

"You realize you're rather childish, right?" Gliss tells Lavish one day as the two of them sit inside a coffee shop as their fathers instructed them too, "Seriously, you've just turned seventeen and you're still using roller-skates to get everywhere."

Even if he can be a hardass at times, Lavish quite enjoys his time with Glissando, and perhaps that's partially do to the fact that he's the only person in Elysium that actually talks to him on the regular, even if he doesn't do it as much when they're training.

"It's faster than walking," Lavish curtly replies, "Perhaps you're just jealous because you'd be too clumsy to skate yourself. I know you act all high and mighty but you could never work these."

It's no secret that Gliss is nowhere near cut out to be a Chevalier and the only reason he's there is because his father demands he be there. Yet Gliss doesn't seem to mind. He's used his time at Elysium quite wisely, talking to everyone and anyone so that he can maintain powerful relationships with instructors and sponsors so that he can grow a sphere of influence for when he becomes Minister.

"I don't need to," Gliss turns his head away, "At least I'm actually doing what my father sent me to Elysium to do."

He does make a point… Lavish hasn't been exactly dedicated to getting to know all the fancy people, mainly he just liked gambling against them. Which has done well for him, the way he basically destroys them before the fights even happen. He'd already underestimated himself on the very first day of Elysium, but now he's better. Now everybody knows not to mess with Lavish Tarro even if he's secretly bending fortune and playing with luck whenever he uses a trick card or a fudged roll. Because it's glorious to him. It's like the star on his card's risen to the sky and the Hanged Man is gone.

Lavish is powerful now, and every mounting victory in a fight or in a bet just adds on to the mountain of power he's accumulated and is now lucky enough to sit at the top of. And as he trains and makes a name for himself, not as Modish Tarro's son but as Lavish, he finds himself eager to free himself of the burden, the weight of the world that rests atop his shoulders.

He just needs a new gamble.

"Well not exactly," He admits to Gliss, "But I'm doing what people go to Elysium to do, not what rich people try to force their kids to do."

And it's then that the weight of Lavish's words settles on his chest. Is he really… no, he can't volunteer. He's not at Elysium for those reasons… it's just.

If Lavish gets to the top then he's free from Modish. He's free from being forced to be the perfect son who's expected to make toys for the rest of his life, and he's allowed to do whatever he damn pleases. If Lavish wins, then he's allowed power. The same power he'd get if he ran the company but more, since nobody cares about some measly businessman the way they'd worship him if he was a big strong victor, his name in lights.

And with every ace up his sleeve, every act of deceit successfully committed, Lavish feels himself getting closer to the throne. His eye for detail's become his new best friend, and he gets under the skin of just about everybody he meets in such a way that he cuts through their words with his own, and cuts through their swords with his shears.

He always has a plan, and he laughs as he pops his bubblegum while his opponents cry in misery and defeat. Maybe his father did teach him something after all, there's something to be said about the power of being merciless.

"What did you say?" Gliss asks, setting his coffee down on the table firmly, "You don't actually mean—"

"Sure do," Lavish nods his head and snickers, "It's time for a gamble, isn't it."

"What's your father going to say?" Gliss raises an eyebrow.

"Doesn't matter. He'll be nothing to me once I win."

Because the Games are just that to Lavish. A Gamble, a challenge to rise up against, where there's no way of stacking the cards in his favor. In the arena, it's just him and Lady Luck having a dance, and he's determined to put on a show.

The weight of what Lavish's doing doesn't quite set in until a few days before the final tournament. He wonders, Is this what I really want? Am I really willing to take a gamble I can't pull the strings on. It's been too long since Lavish relied on fate instead of his own abilities, but now he's ready to take that chance.

So there's no going back for Lavish. He trains until he can't feel his own chest, and then he trains some more after that. It's no longer luck, he has to keep reminding himself. You have to show that you're worth it. So nobody will cross his path, as fortune and the stars illuminate it for him, and they smile down on him the same way his mother would have if she were here to see him shine.

But people still shame Lavish, they tell him he's just an easy morsel for them to devour, yet he swears up and down that he'll prove them wrong. So that's what he does when he attacks, he weaves faith into every strike of his shears, his nails sharper than their knives as he cuts the others down.

He's driven by determination, faith, and pure fucking spite for his father, his classmates, and the world. Lavish Tarro is determined to risk everything for this. He'll risk his whole world if it means he'll someday be able to shine amongst the stars.

And he screams as he attacks, with all the anger in his body, all the determination that flows through his veins. There's no backing down now, especially not before his big gamble.

And Lavish wins, he wins in an upset that leaves everybody else bowing down at him, and he thinks, perhaps the odds really are in my favor.

Though Modish has a different feeling.

"You're a disgrace," He slams his foot on the floor when Lavish enters the living room that evening, "You're set up to inherit my company, I hope you realize that. I've given you such a great life and now you feel so comfortable throwing it all away."

Lavish understands his fathers fear for the company and his reputation, as that's what Gliss had said would happen.

"Our entire company is on the line because of your stupidity." Modish continues and his voice is deep.

"I'm not stupid if I win," Is what Lavish mutters under his breath, even if his father can hardly hear him.

Because sure on paper, the odds are one in twenty-four that Lavish comes home safely, but based on past trends from the Games, it's really more like one in eight considering the winning streak Districts One through Four have been on for over a decade. And Lavish doesn't mind those odds, in fact, he's certain he can work with them to some extent. He's certain he has more than half a chance at declaring himself victorious.

So he uses Gliss' words against his father, "In order to reach the summit, you must risk destruction."

But that's not enough to convince Modish who says, "I'm cutting you off," in attempts to get Lavish to give up his spot, yet that's not enough.

Lavish is all in now, and he's not going to fold this bet for the life of him. Sure, it's odd of him to risk his life for a future he already has assured, but he doesn't want that life. Fate isn't supposed to steer him on the wrong path, as that's what happened to his mother and now she's gone.

So Lavish swears he'll control the future. He'll be fate and fortune and everything else. Lavish Tarro is determined to control what cards are drawn and the readings they lead to.

Damnit, Lavish Tarro is determined to be the unstoppable force to his father's immovable object, even if he's pissed about it.

It's not like he can do anything about it.

It's the evening before the Reaping and Lavish sits on his bed next to a softly purring Garnish. His cards are all laid out in front of him so he can conduct one last fortune card reading before he goes into the arena.

Lavish shuffles the deck with care, the same way he did on the night before his mother left. Only this time he's even more delicate with the cards. He can't mess this up just like he can't mess anything up ever again.

So he cuts the cards into smaller slithers than usual before restacking them in a new order. He closes his eyes and prays to the stats that his reading will prove to be good. Lavish taps several times before unfurling the card, and it's Justice laid upright.

A card of fairness and truth. Proof that it's fair for Lavish to earn the victory crown and finally have everything he's ever wanted for his whole life. It's proof that he'll finally rise above the people around him, his father and even Gliss.

He's waited a long time for this moment and the card is proof that it's now his time to shine. Lavish is more than a brightly-colored idiot, no he's the entire world now. So he smiles when he looks down on the card which proves that he's in charge of fate, that it's him who alters the destiny of others in order to further his own.

(Lavish is too excited to remember that the Justice card also means it could be time for him to face that very word. It could mean that he's lied and cheated too much and it's time he revels in karma's wrath. But he's too biased to consider that.)

Lavish looks to the world above him and thanks him for the reading. And he says a prayer to a future that's ever-changing and incalculable.

Garnish licks his hand as he puts the cards back in the box, and Lavish knows it's only a matter of time before he reaches the summit.

Bubblegum Bitch by MARINA

And that was the other Tribute of District One, Mister Lavish Tarro by Brooke and Will! Thank you two so much for this incredible character who I had an absolute blast getting into the brain of. So far these introductions have been quite enjoyable for me so I hope the same is true for you all as readers.

I'd love to hear your thoughts on Lavish if you have time, and if not, well thank you for reading anyways. I hope you all have an excellent day and don't miss me too much since Melvina Parrish will be here before you know it.

Fuck this shit, I'm out,

Linds