A/N: Thank you for joining us in Panem! I so appreciate getting the chance to interact with y'all.

Some of the dialogue in this section is verbatim from the film. Yes, I watched, paused, typed, etc. I tried not to do that too often. ;-)

Chapter Eight: Private Sessions

Gale shut the door as Haymitch took something that looked like a pen from his pocket and clicked it before planting himself in the room's one chair, all traces of feigned intoxication wiped from his face. "We only got a few minutes. That baffle won't keep 'em off our backs for long. They'll think it's a glitch, so it's gotta be fixable."

"What is it?" Gale asked quietly.

The older man grimaced but held his gaze with a fiery determination. "Never mind that. We gotta worry about the Avoxes."

Gale leaned against the wall and blew out a long breath. "We're talking a lot of people, Haymitch."

"I know it. I ain't got no one but m'self, but I am kinda fond of this old hide, so yeah. And you and yours and her and hers and him and his. If they make it." He paused, never taking his gaze from Gale's face. "They might not, in spite of everything. And we'll still need to get the others out."

"Stylists?"

"Cinna for sure. Portia, if she wants to come. Effie, maybe."

Gale cocked a brow. "Effie, huh?"

"Shut up. So, like twenty people minimum. And then I've got a side project. We'll have to be ready to go when the force field goes. Like, immediately."

"This is a hell of a lot more complicated than I thought it was gonna be," Gale muttered, staring at the pen-thing that Haymitch had indicated would keep anyone from overhearing them. "So I guess we need to look like we're schmoozing but we need to actually be getting, what, a hovercraft in order? I was just thinking of hitting the woods and going from there. Katniss and I know those woods. Sort of."

"Might need more space," Haymitch indicated with a smile. "And someone to collect the family."

"And someone to fly us over."

"Ah, hell. Forgot that part. Yeah. Right. Tomorrow."

"Tomorrow." Haymitch did something entirely unexpected at that moment. He crossed to his suitcase and pulled out a leather envelope. Gale couldn't remember seeing anything like it before. Handing it over to Gale, the older man nodded. "Use it as you need to."

Gale didn't even have time to look, but the envelope felt heavy in his hands. He tucked it under one arm and tried to act as if he weren't dying of curiosity.

With another click, Haymitch ended their subversive conversation, saying only, "So, yeah. She told me she was going to go for the bow in the Cornucopia. I thought that was smart, it's her best thing."

Gale gaped, but only for a second. He caught on pretty fast. "Good. Did you know she also sings?" That was maybe mean of him to say out loud here, but it was basically harmless and suited the moment.

Haymitch laughed a bit. "No kiddin'? Well, can't see her givin' a concert or anything, but you never know."

"You never know."

They left his room and Gale made his excuses to get back to his own room so he could check out what was in the huge leather envelope. After untying the leather cord that bound it closed, he pulled out a piece of paper.

Been saving this for a rainy day. Or something.

Hoping you'll use it, because I can't spend it all on liquor.

Inside the envelope was money. Lots and lots of money. The Victors received an annual stipend as well as a house, and it looks like Haymitch had been cashing it all in for, well, that rainy day.

Gale hefted the envelope in both hands before deciding to bury it in his own luggage. He'd count it later, when he had privacy and a couple hours.

"It's another big, big, big day!" Effie exclaimed, looking genuinely enthusiastic the following afternoon. "I know, it's a long wait, but it's so important! Are you ready?"

Katniss and Peeta had pushed the furniture around in the lounge before engaging in some hand-to-hand sparring but were now freshly showered and back in their training uniforms.

She looked amazing, Katniss did, but then Gale had more or less always thought so. When she was small and fierce and trying so hard to keep herself together when her mother dropped off into her own world, when she was hunting in the woods, when she laughed at him while they shared bread and butter on Reaping Days…Katniss's clean confidence had always appealed to him.

That she looked both sexy and intimidating in the training uniform was a pleasant surprise, too. He tried not to stare as Effie herded Katniss and Peeta out of their penthouse suite to the elevators. It was going to be a long wait for them.

"I've got an old friend to look up," Haymitch stated, pushing off the wall he'd been holding up. "Hawthorne. You said you do too, yeah?"

Remembering that he had preparations to see to, Gale nodded. "Cinna? Portia? Got plans?"

They smiled in unison and Cinna flicked his hands out at the wrists. "I've got such a gown for Katniss for tomorrow night. She'll be unforgettable."

Intrigued, Gale asked for him to elaborate but the Stylist shook his head. "A surprise is a surprise. Trust me, you'll love it."

Portia nodded enthusiastically. "Peeta won't be as…ah…dramatic? But he'll look quite dashing." She paused and tilted her head a little. "Really, the male Tributes always look quite dashing. Last year, you were the man of the hour, Gale Hawthorne."

That still made him uncomfortable. He had heard that more than once over his year of compelled sexual involvement in the Capitol. "Oh, I've got a duplicate of your interview outfit, Gale," he'd been told. Also, "You looked so amazing in The Plaza. I had my tailor make up a replica of your…costume."

He shook off his discomfort and focused on the Stylists once more. "Well, this year, you two have made our Tributes once again the talk of the Games." With a smile, he thanked them again. "So, will you be here, today? I've got to get out and do my schmoozing." He tried to make his shrug a bit elaborate, as if to say he knew it sounded strange, but what was he going to do?

Cinna, who was new to the Games as a Stylist, nodded briskly. "I wish you all the luck. I really think the Sponsors will pay serious attention to our Tributes. Portia and I are doing our best for them."

"You are both fantastic, thank you."

Portia eyed him narrowly. "This has to be hard on you, Gale, seeing as you went to school with the Tributes and are friends. Anything we can do for you?"

Holding up a hand, Gale said he was fine. "You just focus on them. Hoping they do well in their private sessions, today."

Finally, the Stylists retired to their workrooms and Gale was able to clear out of the penthouse. He had funds to liquidate and arrangements to make.

The Capitol blew Gale's mind, every single time he visited. The high-pitched voices of the locals, the way they seemed nearly desperate to surround themselves with sights and sounds, and the outlandish excess that oozed from every square foot of the place—all of it made his head pound. He had an address in his pocket at the moment, together with a note of introduction to someone who lived off the main center of the Capitol. He'd had to, well, act a part to get the information, but he hoped Katniss would forgive him.

Julia Templesmith—Claudius Templesmith's younger and smarter sister—had cleared her schedule for him that afternoon. "Gale Hawthorne, darling. I hadn't expected you to make time for me just before the Games. And your first time Mentoring, too." She was petite, with platinum blond hair and large, violet eyes that he believed were colored by contact lenses. She wore a loose robe that matched her eyes and was barefoot when she opened the door. "Kiss!"

He bent down to brush her cheek with his lips, inwardly cringing as he did so. "Julia. Thank you for making time for me."

"Darling, it was the least I could do," she purred.

He felt, sincerely, like he wanted to take a shower. Alone. This was too much like his Capitol Sexing, as Haymitch termed it. Still, he smiled as he had taught himself how to do in such a situation. "You're too good to me, Julia."

She practically glided into the main lounge of her apartment, glancing flirtatiously over her shoulder at him before turning dramatically and waving an arm toward the white leather sofa. "Sit, Gale, sit!"

He waited for her, of course, and she smiled a little as she settled into the matching white club chair at a right angle to his own seat. When she nodded, he did as well. "The first Mentoring is a trial, I'm sure." She crossed her legs, but he heeded only her eyes and the opinions she communicated with them.

"Tributes don't see a lot of the Capitol when we're here, you know."

"Oh, I do know! It's dreadful to think how much they're all, well, sheltered, here. So, what can I do for you?" Her eyes were bright and enthusiastic, if a little cunning. "Looking to sound out Sponsors for your Tributes? Or maybe just one Tribute? Hmm?"

"Haymitch Abernathy and I have been hard at work at that since we got here."

"So...what can I do for you?" Uncrossing her legs, she leaned forward, gaze sharpening in what reminded him of traders in The Hob, back in Twelve. "I am usually reluctant to commit to Sponsorship until at least the training scores are given. That'll be tonight, right?" Gale nodded, wanting her to speak so he knew how to counter. He had learned a lot about careful conversations over the past year. "Any way to feel like trying to persuade me to do otherwise?"

He leaned back in the sofa, trying to project an air of casual confidence. "Oh, no, Julia. I wouldn't want to have you deviate from your usual patterns." Her eyebrows quirked—just a little, but they lifted and lowered in a way that made him think she might be exactly the kind of person they needed. "You should be able to, ah, enjoy the Hunger Games just as you are accustomed to doing." Had he, in a misguided impulse, laid it on too thick?

"Well, then, I will," she said, still watching him with the intensity of a predator. "So if you're not looking for some early Sponsorship, what are you looking for?"

"Truly? A vacation," Gale responded in entire sincerity. "But," he shrugged a little in an effort to appear appealing and shy—would she even believe him?—"I'm not going alone, so I was hoping to find a means of transportation that could handle a few more people."

Julia Templesmith's grin lit up her entire face. "Oh! Well, then. I do hope that works out for you. Yes, I know a man who can get you whatever you need for your little, ah, romp, there, Gale Hawthorne." She wiggled her brows playfully. "Plan on making it quite a party, do you?"

He blushed, which embarrassed him but seemed to delight his hostess, so he owned it and moved on. "Well, you know, she's a bit young and so…"

The older woman pursed her lips and looked suitably impressed. "I will definitely be keeping an eye on her," she promised with a nod.

He felt blood rushing up the skin of his throat and wished it would just stop. "So will I," he finally said. He felt as if he were openly flaunting the rules, here. And openly living a life that he didn't like even a little bit, but perhaps the image of, what, fallibility? Would keep someone off his tail later. He didn't know, but he was in too deep to leave Julia Templesmith's apartment just then.

She pushed herself up to her feet. "Well, then, I am happy to help the latest Mentor with his first Hunger Games," she declared, stepping to a table off to one side of her white-walled apartment. "But it's going to cost you," she warned him, again flirting with him over her shoulder.

Expecting that, he said he thought it might. "Next time I'm in the Capitol," he promised her.

An event which would, he hoped, never happen.

She handed him a slender paper card—why paper, in their very plastic world?—with the name Sal on it with an address and her signature, before pulling his head to hers. He thought she'd be going for a kiss, which he would have accepted, but she skimmed his cheek until her lips reached his ear. "My brother is an ass," she whispered. "But he's just a talking head. Remember that, all right?"

Every muscle in his body tensed; she knew! Or guessed. Or…something. Forcing himself to relax, he drew her in for a hug and it was her turn to go rigid with tension.

They let each other go and Gale kept her gaze with his own, trying to discern her motives. She stayed silent and he had to go meet the mysterious Sal, so he cleared his throat.

"Well, thank you for your time and willingness to keep an open mind about my Tributes," he said at last, hoping he sounded less like an idiot than he thought he might.

She smiled again, but it was an obviously feigned expression and never reached her eyes, which were shadowed. "My pleasure. Enjoy your vacation, Gale. I look forward to claiming my reward next time you're here."

Another minute saw him out of her apartment and navigating his way to the address he'd been given. All the while, though, he wondered what Julia Templesmith had heard and if they needed to silence her or what.

I have got to talk to Haymitch.

It hadn't taken him long at all, months ago, to discover that the Capitol had a dark side.

It wasn't dark just because it was corrupt and vengeful and wasteful on levels unprecedented, but because it was literally lacking light. There were no video screens in these dark places, nor very much artificial illumination; there was only concrete, glass, narrow alleys, and puddles of water left over from the last rain. The high-rise buildings had slab walls and were nearly featureless, but there were etchings in the concrete and glass. Etchings that were more permanent than paint, for sure, and not so easily removed.

Can't wait for the Games? Spend the night, here!

Make it too hot for Snow!

The voiceless need a voice!

The final line had been recently added, it seemed to Gale as he stepped near the plate glass window to investigate. Red. He saw red in the word "voiceless".

The Avoxes. Of course! And it seemed that the red was actually blood. Fresh blood.

The combination was enough to send a chill on jagged pathways through his body as he stared at the etching. Haymitch had said that there was rebellion simmering under the overblown ideal of the Capitol.

Trying to affect nonchalance, Gale stepped away from the window. He didn't know if he should welcome the evidence he'd seen or freeze in sheer terror.

It doesn't matter now, he told himself as he neared his destination. Whatever you can do to save Katniss will be worth it.

Thinking of her as a Victor, envisaging her with him, in the woods, their families near and safe…It was all he wanted.

Scanning the largely uniform buildings, he eventually found the one he wanted and went inside. Basement level, on the right, he found the proper number and a button and he pressed it, all his focus on acquiring transportation.

The door jerked open before him and a bald man with a bright flame tattooed on the left side of his forehead eyed him up and down. "Yeah? Who're you?"

Half-mesmerized by the vivid colors in the man's tattoo, Gale took a moment to answer. "Gale Hawthorne, Mentor for District 12. Are you Sal? Ms. Templesmith sent me."

The flame on the man's skin wrinkled with his frown. "Got proof?" Gale handed him the card he'd been using to find this…place. The wrinkles in the flame changed when the man's eyebrows rose high into his expansive forehead. "Yeah, okay. C'mon in. I'm Salvatore Featherstone and if she sent you, you're okay." He found out why the card had been made of paper; Salvatore Featherstone set it on fire as soon as the door was closed. No trace. Not even ashes were left behind as the final flickering flame puffed into air.

Sal turned and led the way down a flight of stairs, ducking when they reached the final one so as not to hit his head on the enormous piping that crossed the stairwell. "Watch your head," Sal called back, the words echoing off the painted concrete of the walls, floor, and ceiling. "Wasn't expecting company," he continued as he led the way to a room that managed to be cavernous even though it was a basement. Gale kept an eye on the various chains and lights that were anchored overhead, wondering at the total dimensions of this place. It appeared to be entirely subterranean.

"Thanks for having me in, Mr. Featherstone."

"Sure. So." Sal pulled up a wheeled stool with his foot and pushed it toward Gale before getting one of his own. "What is it you need, Mentor?"

As Gale seated himself, he realized the whole space was more like a machine shop than a home, but there was a kitchen off to one side and a stack of at least three mattresses near a heating grate. "Well, I've clearly come to the right place." He tried to sound positive but not pushy. "I need transportation for after the Games. My, ah, girlfriend and I want to take a vacation before I'm called back to the Capitol again."

"And you don't got anything back in, where? Twelve?" Sal's look, as seen in the bright but indirect lighting, was shrewd. "You all have big houses, don't ya?"

Gale allowed himself to frown. "It's not like being free, though," he whispered. "I wanted to fly. Take her someplace away from basically everyone."

There was a sudden pressure, he felt, in the room and he held himself still and ready; it was as if he were being weighed and if he were found wanting, his blood would be etched into a window. Sal rocked a bit on his stool so that it rolled forward and back, mere inches at a time.

"A trip," Sal said at length. Gale nodded. "It's a long way to Twelve, there, Mentor. You got a pilot?"

"Got connections," Gale said, figuring it was true, even if not an entire answer to the man's question.

Sal's forehead-flame flickered with another frown. "That's true. You know Mizz Julia. All right. Young men do want their adventures, don't I know it. And sometimes, young Mentors want to…kick over their traces a bit. All right. But I don't let anything go for free."

The way the man spoke sparked Gale's curiosity. "You're not a native of the Capitol, are you?"

Sal snorted and kicked his stool into a rolling path that took him to a large door. "Nope. So I'm pretty sure I have ways of getting this thing out of here. Come take a look and, if you like it, we'll talk price."

This thing turned out to be an old Peacekeepers hovercraft. He'd been in one like it the year before.

"Is it stripped out or ready for use, sir?" he asked, walking back and forth to get a sense of the dimensions and how many of his possible companions he could fit in there.

"Doesn't need to be fancy, Mentor. It needs to be invisible. Which it kinda is. It's got the cloaking system, which the Peacekeepers use. So, for you and your girlfriend, hey? Lots of room to play in there," he added with a mischievous curl to his voice.

Gale couldn't have stopped the blush, so he just let it come and ignored it. "Looks like," was all he said. "Got a way to get this above ground and to my pilot?"

Sal snorted. "Of course. Do I look stupid? So, can we do business?"

Grateful for that envelope in his rooms, Gale said he thought they might.

Half an hour of haggling later and a price was agreed upon. It took another ten minutes to arrange a covert means of immediate contact. They shook hands, exchanged information, and Sal walked him back to the door that would lead to the narrow road.

Just before opening it, Sal sneered a bit. "Happy Hunger Games, Mentor. Hope your girl walks out of the Arena alive. Be a shame not to take her with you."

Gale was still sputtering when Sal pushed him out the door.

Great. What the hell do I do about that? Does he suspect whatever it is with Katniss and me? Or is he just hoping she is the Victor? But then why wouldn't he say something about Peeta, too?

He added that to the concerns he wanted to share with Haymitch as he hurried to get back to the Tower. It was getting late and Flickerman and Templesmith would be sharing the Training Scores before too long.

Haymitch hadn't returned to the Tower, so Gale pulled Peeta aside after nodding to Cinna and Portia. "Hey, how'd it go?"

The younger man was freshly showered, his hair still damp, but he looked worn clear through. "Honestly, Gale, that was a long wait."

Nodding in total understanding, Gale agreed that it was. "What options did you take?"

Peeta appeared to flush so that his ears turned red. "Well, I'm basically useless with most weapons, but I was able to camouflage my arm so that no one could see it. And I threw the weights at the artificial tree that was there for me to use—have they been watching us, then?—and broke it. I don't know how effective it was. Honestly, half of them looked the way someone does after a big meal, you know? All sleepy."

"Yeah. Being at the end of the line, it's like that."

Peeta cocked his head and gave him a hard look. "What's the point, Gale? I mean, you and Haymitch are great Mentors. But only one of us can win and even if our District does win twice in a row, it's not gonna be me. It's gonna be her. You know it and I know it." The edge to his voice let Gale know Peeta already understood that there was something going on between him and Katniss.

Hope was important, though, and Gale felt that he might be able to help with that. Choosing his words carefully, he reminded him, "She wants you to live." He refrained from using the words saving her life because he did not want Peeta to be thinking of self-sacrifice. That would wreck Katniss. "Haymitch and I want you to live, too."

"What we want doesn't matter, does it? Not once we've been Reaped."

"Being determined to live is important. You have to be willing, though, to do anything."

"Including accepting our imminent demise," Peeta tagged on, a rueful smile on his face.

They shared a soft chuckle before Gale offered him what he could. "Stick together, the pair of you. Remember how others have won before. You've seen Haymitch's part, I know, and you saw mine last year, right?" Peeta nodded, frowning. "Right. So stick together. Haymitch and I will do our best."

Peeta nodded, but then he scraped his hands through his hair. "Just…take care of her, all right?" And before Gale could say anything, Peeta turned and left, calling out, "Almost time for the scores!"

Gale sought out Katniss, then. She was wearing a sleeveless tunic and loose black trousers which seemed to caress her legs as she took hesitant steps to the sofa. She chose to sit in one corner, drawing her legs up and wrapping her arms about her knees. Tension vibrated around her and he wanted nothing so much as to pull her up against himself for comfort.

He couldn't, but sitting wasn't a problem, right? Dropping down next to her, he leaned in a bit. "How'd it go?"

After casting a quick look about the room, she shrugged. "They were horrible. Just, awful."

"Was there a bow?"

She nodded. "Yeah. But I hadn't used one like it before." Shame and anger suffused her voice when she added, "I missed my first shot."

Gale managed not to wince. "That must have been disconcerting." He touched one of her arms, warming her cool skin with his hand, and slipping down until he covered one of her feet. "You're freezing," he whispered, concerned.

She dropped her head and her hair brushed against his arm. "It was not my finest hour."

"What happened?"

"Well—"

Effie Trinket appeared just then, her color of the day being something between blue and green, heels clicking angrily on the floor of the suite. "Are you crazy?" she demanded of Katniss, looking for all the world as if she wanted to slap the younger woman.

Gale shifted and glared up at Effie. "Hey! What the hell, Effie?"

Katniss rolled her eyes. "I just got mad!"

"Mad? You realize that your actions reflect on all of us, not just you!" Effie was in a snit, clearly.

Cinna held up a hand. "They just want a good show. It's fine."

Gale met Katniss's eyes as Effie went on about good manners and soon. "What did you do?" he asked his—friend? girlfriend?—as quietly as he could to avoid drawing attention to the question. Everyone else already knew and he was worried.

"Well, finally!" Effie nearly shouted.

Katniss reached for Gale's hand. Startled, he wrapped her fingers with his own as she shifted in her corner of the sofa.

"I hope you noticed we have a serious situation?" Effie snapped at Haymitch, who was strolling into the lounge with a broad, expectant grin on his face.

Gale felt himself relax as he smiled with Katniss. Haymitch looked right at the girl and held out his fist, thumbs-up, in the time-worn style.

"Nice shooting, sweetheart."

"I thought that didn't work?" Gale whispered.

Katniss pushed out a breath that was half-laugh, half-sigh. "Well, that was only the first try," she confessed.

"What did they do when you shot the apple?"

"Wait, what?" Gale and Peeta asked at the same time.

Katniss nodded. "Was the pig still there, Peeta?"

"Yeah. You shot it?" He looked both appalled and impressed.

Gale, though, was struck by the sudden need to kiss the girl, but he couldn't, so he kept his mouth shut for a moment while he got the impulse under control.

"Yeah. They looked started," she said, answering Haymitch's question.

"Oh, yeah?" The older Mentor appeared rejuvenated, delighted, even playful and Gale had to wonder what was going on in his head. He laughed and swung his swivel chair back and forth, still laughing and shaking his head. Even Effie didn't interrupt him. "Now, what did you say?" Haymitch asked when he came to a halt. "Thanks?" He gestured that she should finish it.

How had he heard, though? Frustrated, but wishing he'd been there, Gale could only listen when Katniss smiled self-consciously. "Thank you for your consideration. Yeah."

"Genius!" Haymitch declared with a righteous shake of his fists. "Genius," he said again, more quietly.

Gale collapsed against the soft sofa cushions behind him and regarded Katniss Everdeen. Effie was going on about how there could be repercussions, but Gale didn't think so. He trusted Haymitch's instincts.

Katniss had been a hit with the Gamemakers, that day. That could mean everything.

Or it could kill her.

"Loosen your corset," Haymitch advised their high-strung Escort. "Have a drink."

Katniss snickered and Gale caught her gaze. Her eyes were warm, her smile real, and he treasured being able to experience that. No matter what happened.

"I would have given anything to see that," he told her, maybe more loudly than he should have. "Anything."

She bit her lip, ducked her head, and pushed herself back into the corner of the sofa.

The wall display lit up shortly thereafter and Caesar Flickerman appeared at a sober gray desk with a black wall behind him. This was a big night for the Hunger Games, Gale was aware. Everyone in the room, even Effie, settled into a seat, whether on one of the two sofas or in a chair. Two bottles of something alcoholic were on the large occasional table in the middle of the room, but no one was drinking yet.

Gale's mouth was dry, however, and his heart started pounding as the training scores were explained and then read aloud.

"Why do they insist on ladies first in the private sessions with the Gamemakers but they go with the guys first for this?" Peeta wondered aloud, directing his question half to the screen and half to the room at large.

Effie fluttered her hands. "I have no idea, but it doesn't matter, does it? We have to pay attention!"

Gale offered Peeta what he hoped was an encouraging and apologetic smile all in one. Effie was rattled, after Katniss's apparent display of…nerve…in her session that day. She'd be no good to anyone, likely, until the scores had all been read.

"A lot of tens," Katniss murmured to Gale as they watched the faces appear and disappear on the screen. "Kind of intimidating."

"Well, keep an eye on 'em, Catnip," Gale advised quietly. "Sometimes, the scores are to make them targets; but they're gonna be dangerous regardless." His muscles were taut as he watched each face. He wouldn't be in the Arena this year, but his heart would be. That might even be worse.

"Now our final District," Flickerman said at length. "From District 12, Peeta Mellark." Peeta leaned up as if he'd stand, but he stayed seated. Gale held his breath, not knowing what to expect. "A score of eight," Flickerman announced.

Portia clapped enthusiastically and Cinna smiled in that slow way he had. "Bravo."

Haymitch nodded. "Good job!" he said. Gale wondered how many times, over the past twenty-odd years, Haymitch had had to say just that. Over and over.

Effie's body relaxed almost audibly; Gale could hear the leather cushions sigh under her as she let herself breathe, presumably. "Good! We can work with that," she assured Peeta with an affirming nod. While Peeta allowed himself a tentative smile, Effie met Gale's eyes. She had been expecting better, he could see.

Gale had scored a ten. He didn't see that it had mattered too much while he was in the Arena and he'd have to remember to remind both Peeta and Katniss of that once this was finished.

"And finally," Caesar went on, drawing the last score announcement out like the showman he was, "from District 12. Katniss Everdeen." He put an inflection into Katniss's name that puzzled Gale. Was the blue-haired host mocking Katniss or trying to make sure she stood out because he wanted—in his own, weird way—to help her? A dramatic pause, then, "With a score of," and Flickerman checked his papers and stopped with evident surprise. "Eleven."

The penthouse lounge erupted with gasps of shock. Cinna got the first actual word in.

"Outstanding." He looked proud and Gale knew he should. He nodded his thanks to Katniss's Stylist while he clapped his friend on her shoulder. Carefully not touching her anywhere else or in any way other than a good job kind of way in front of everyone.

Katniss appeared to be in shock, barely acknowledging Peeta's quiet congratulations.

"I thought they hated me," she stammered, looking at Gale with eyes that brimmed with confusion.

"I guess they didn't," he answered.

Haymitch leaned forward a little to catch her eye. "They must have liked your guts!"

Cinna had opened one of the bottles on the table and an Avox brought a tray of glasses. Portia handed out the glasses once Cinna had filled them, but Gale didn't partake.

Cinna didn't seem to notice, but Gale suspected he did. The Stylist held his sparkling drink aloft. "To Katniss Everdeen. The Girl on Fire!"

Gale could hear that name echo in his mind for the rest of the night.

E/N: The art for this story features flames in every image. Everyone is caught in the fire. It's not just Katniss, though, so keep that in mind. ;-)

Chapter Nine will be up on Monday. If you want a sneak peek, just drop me a line saying, "I volunteer!" If you're signed in and accepting PMs, you'll get a peek! ~LJ