No Silver Lining

"I think this concludes today's briefing…" Effie double-checked her notes to make sure she hadn't forgotten anything, never departing from her smile. She looked up at the journalists in the press pool booth. "Any question?"

She hoped they would be quick because she was starving and craving one of those meatballs sandwiches from the City Circle's truck vendors. She didn't know where the craving was coming from exactly because she hardly ever touched that greasy food but she had tried to be better about watching calories less and less since it seemed to please Haymitch and… She must have caught the whiff of someone eating one earlier on her way to the press briefing. It was all she could think about, really, she mused even as she answered a trite question about the various rumors Alma Coin was about to return center stage with another bid for Thirteen's independence. Her stomach was clenching with hunger and she could almost taste the sweet hot tomato sauce on her tongue and…

"The referendum made Thirteen's choice clear and we will not credit rumors or…" she drawled out, only to hesitate when almost all the journalists simultaneously fished their phones from their pockets or bags. The hum of phones on vibrate could be heard clearly in the sudden hush.

She frowned and reached for her own, distinctly aware that this sort of scenes could only mean a breaking information had just landed, one she wasn't privy to yet, but her fingers came up empty. And with sudden clarity she remembered that her phone was exactly where she had left it after texting Portia earlier: right next to her tablet, on her desk.

Quick as lightning, one of the journalists lifted his hand and, without waiting for her to give him leave to ask his question, spoke. "Does the Presidential Mansion has any response in relation to Seneca Crane?"

Her smile became very strained and she glanced to the side, not surprised to see Peeta hurrying toward the press booth as quickly as he could without running. Running was a no-no when you worked for the President of Panem, it tended to show there was something to worry about and that usually meant panic.

"I am afraid you will have to give me a moment, I seem to have forgotten my phone." she apologized, waving Peeta forward with some urgency.

But Peeta was still far enough away that, if some reporters politely waited and watched him approach, some didn't give her that courtesy.

"I seem to remember you were close." a woman called out. "There were rumors about an engagement…"

"I was never engaged." she lied, turning the pink diamond ring around her finger in reflex. "A minute, please."

Peeta was almost there, her glittery pink phone in his hand, a concerned look on his face…

"Effie, Crane was found dead this morning." yet another woman explained, with a touch of sympathy but also morbid eagerness. "The info just broke. They say it might be suicide. Any inside information?"

She had been expecting Seneca to have announced his upcoming campaign.

But those words…

Those words hit her straight in the plexus.

"I beg your pardon?" she asked, breathless, blinking at the woman she knew to be a serious journalist and not someone who would toss that sort of lies around for shock value.

And yet there would have been some advance warning if something like that had happened. First because Plutarch was having Seneca's situation monitored and then because given the political ramifications…

"A minute, please." Peeta requested, his voice loud and clear, as he finally stepped up on her lectern and covered the mic with his hand. "Effie, I'm so so sorry… Fulvia got the info but Plutarch was in a reunion and by the time she sent it to me, it had already become breaking news…" The boy winced. "Do you need me to take over?"

Did she need him to take over…

There was a shift happening.

It was like a rug was being pulled from under her feet.

And then the certainty that there was a mistake because… "Seneca is not dead."

Peeta winced again and licked his lips, lowering his voice even more, only too aware that every ears in that room were trying to overhear them… "I'm sorry. It seems he hanged himself… Here, it's the…"

She snatched the phone from his hand so fast she left a scratch. He didn't complain though. She scrolled through the information available in Fulvia's mail but there wasn't much. Preliminary report from the Peacekeeper in charge, vague assumptions, positive identification by next of kin – namely Oresto Crane – pictures…

The pictures made her sick.

She could have gone her whole life without seeing her friend like that.

But there was no denying this was Seneca, despite the puffy face, the lolling tongue, the eyes… What kind of death was this? So brutal, so…

She pressed her hand against her mouth, her stomach violently rebelling against the image. Her eyes burned and there was a lump in her throat that made her choke a little.

Peeta's hand landed on her arm, steadying her when she swayed a little. "Effie, let me take over…"

Someone cleared their throat impatiently in the pool press, bringing her back down to Earth, tearing her eyes away from the horrific pictures and to the people sitting in front of her, waiting for her to conclude the briefing… It took all her will to slip away from Peeta's helpful grip, to step back behind her microphone, to force her uncooperative mouth back into a small smile – not a grin, not blinding, that wouldn't have been appropriate, but she was the face of the Abernathy's administration and she couldn't be seen wavering, not even over this. A small smile was good. It showed they were in control, untroubled, strong…

"I am now caught up and I will take questions." she declared, aware that Peeta was hovering next to her.

"Didn't the Presidential Mansion get advance warning?" someone asked curiously. "Isn't that protocol when a political figure dies? What does that mean about the Special Force Peacekeepers and regular Peacekeepers cooperation?"

"We did get warning, there was a miscommunication between my office and Plutarch Heavensbee's." she honestly explained. "Human error. You will agree it can happen."

"Did he really commit suicide?" someone else asked.

"Investigations are in process." she smoothly replied, detaching herself from the situation. She wasn't talking about Seneca at all. She wasn't… "We will not comment on that, as you know."

"But you knew him…" the same journalist insisted. "Was he depressed? Did he give any signs…"

"He was a childhood friend but I cannot say we particularly kept in touch in recent years." she cut the man off. "I do not feel comfortable sharing personal thoughts and I do not think this is either the time nor the place. A man is dead, let us respect his memory and the grief his family must be going through. If there is foul play I am confident the Peacekeepers will uncover it. Is there any question about anything else?"

There were a chorus of questions but all she could hear was Seneca's name ringing left and right like tiny bells in her ears. Or maybe it was her ears that were ringing because…

She caught sight of movement at the booth's entrance and, surely enough, there was Haymitch. Which wouldn't help matters at all.

Their eyes met. He looked concerned and a bit sad – for her, she supposed, because he had never liked Seneca. She was grateful he was there but she wished he hadn't come.

"About anything else, I said." she snapped, cutting through the chaos. She waited a beat but nobody had anything else to ask about so she gathered her notes with a terse smile. "I will see you all tomorrow then."

She fled the lectern, leaving Peeta behind to try and put some order even as people started noticing Panem's President lurking around the press pool, numerous bodyguards in tow. Boggs had increased security, she distantly noticed, which meant there may be credence to the allegations of foul play or…

"Are you alright, sweetheart?" he asked, as soon as she was close enough that he wouldn't be overheard.

"You shouldn't be here." she chided.

She could hear the excited whispers behind her, the boldest journalists calling for clarifications and asking about their relationship, the discreet clicking of pictures being taken as he led her away, his hand firmly at the small of her back…

"Yeah, well…" He made a face. "You looked very pale on TV. Thought you were gonna faint…"

She shook her head. "The pictures."

Nauseous again, she clamped her mouth shut.

A flash of anger passed on his face. "They shouldn't have sent you that. You shouldn't have had to see it."

Fulvia probably wasn't that concerned with her feelings. And Peeta hadn't had time to screen through the intel to spare her. So…

But those pictures…

She held her breath until they were back in the office part of the Mansion, where they would hopefully be free of the press and indiscrete ears. Unfortunately, holding her breath that long hadn't helped her dizziness at all and she was really not all that steady on her legs by the time they reached her office.

Haymitch didn't stop steering her forward though. At her inquisitive glance, he gave her a small shake of his head. "We're going to mine. Quieter."

By that he probably meant nobody would try to eavesdrop on account of the scary looking Peacekeepers and the scowling assistant guarding the door…

She barely noticed Peeta rushing to take her notes from her and settling back at his desk with another unnecessary apology. It wasn't his fault. Fulvia's now…

She clenched her phone in her hand, focused on the feeling of the casing digging into her palm, let Haymitch gently urge her forward…

She was shaking by the time they crossed his inner office, his secretaries shooting to their feet – Katniss didn't bother, she never did. He told them he didn't want to be disturbed before closing the door.

She was already sitting on the couch by that point, even if she had no recollection of getting there. Rascal jumped off from somewhere and came to sniff at her heels… She scooped him off the floor and settled him on his lap, hugging him close to her chest despite the black fur he was bound to leave on her cream skirt…

Something heavy fell on her shoulders.

Haymitch's jacket.

"You're in shock." he said, sitting down next to her. He rubbed her back slowly, his hand traveling up and down her spine in a comforting manner.

She hugged the cat tighter, wondering if it was too late to ask him to give up everything and move to that private island. Two months and their holidays felt like a lifetime ago. Even her tan was almost gone. She had felt so relaxed on that island and now it was back to being stressed all the time, to dealing with problems left, right, and center, to…

"I am not in shock." she denied even though she probably was. "Do you know… Is there more than…"

His hand stilled on her back. "It looks like suicide but they're looking into it. He's been keeping strange company. And…" He made a face. "Crane didn't seem the kind to kill himself… Too self-absorbed."

"He enjoyed recreational drugs." she whispered. Haymitch frowned but she wasn't sure if it was disapproval at her never revealing that before when it could have been used as political leverage or… "So it does look suspicious? He may have been… murdered?"

"Yeah." He sighed. "I'm sorry, sweetheart."

Rascal twisted and wriggled until she let him go. She was not surprised when he immediately leaped on the Presidential desk and made himself comfortable there to wash himself. It seemed such a sacrilege that she almost laughed. Almost.

Instead, she bowed forward until her head was almost between her knees…

"Wow." Haymitch swore, his hand becoming heavier on her back. "You're okay? You need… a bucket or something? A doctor? Look, it ain't fun being in shock… Maybe you should go lie down and…"

"I am not…" Her sentence drawled as she tried to figure out what her body wanted or needed. Her head was spinning a little and she felt very faint but… "I think I…" Her mind flashed back to those pictures and she almost felt like throwing up again but then her stomach audibly grumbled and she covered her face with her hands. "I'm hungry. Does that make me a terrible person?" Her eyes were burning again and when she looked up at him, she couldn't stop a few tears from escaping. "We were such very good friends once upon a time and I am so sad but here I also am just… I'm hungry."

Haymitch looked a bit shocked himself but he covered it up quickly enough. He cupped her face in his hands, brushed off her tears. "Did you have breakfast this morning after I left?"

"A toast. Some coffee." she mumbled.

Not enough by his standards, she figured. But she hardly ever bothered if he wasn't there to eat with her.

"I'll call the kitchen for some lunch, okay?" He pressed a kiss on her forehead and stood up, reaching his desk in two long strides, already picking up the phone…

"Can we get meatballs sandwiches from that truck outside?" she asked before he could hit the kitchen's number.

Haymitch froze. "You want… a meatballs sandwich from some street vendor?"

"With extra pickled onions." She nodded, wrapping his jacket tighter around her.

"You hate onions." he commented.

"Not with tomato sauce." she argued, trying to curl up against the couch's back but it was really uncomfortable. She needed to talk to someone into having that couch changed.

He didn't look convinced. "You want some fries with that?"

She never had fries. The calories… but she thought of the salty sweetness of a hot fry on her tongue and she hummed, closing her eyes to try and fight this dizzying spell. "Perhaps a small portion. Or I can steal some of yours."

"Okay. I'm sending Katniss. And then I'm calling a doctor cause you're clearly out of your mind…" He snorted so she figured it was probably a joke.

"Have you even ever tasted those sandwiches? They're delicious." she argued. "Very bad for one's figure but delicious. Blame Peeta. He's the one who introduced me."

She swallowed hard, trying to make that lump in her throat go away. She felt like crying but, at the same time, she also didn't want to give in to that. The last time she had seen Seneca… Well, she had turned him down. He wanted her to become his right hand and she…

Her phone beeped while Haymitch was trying to convince Katniss that, no, he wasn't joking and he wanted food from a truck parked on the City Circle. She had one missed call from Lyssa, she noticed, and a subsequent text that said her sister was thinking about her and that she was available if she wanted to talk. Lyssa must have been shocked too, she had known Seneca as long as Effie had, they had shared so many dinners and brunches with the Cranes that… And Oresto Crane was one of their father's best friends, that…

"I need to reach out to the Cranes." She hadn't meant to speak out loud but Haymitch hung up and came back to sit next to her.

"It can wait a bit, princess." His hand curled around her ankle. Next thing she knew, he was slipping off her heels. She was grateful because they pinched her toes. She was even more grateful when he started rubbing her feet.

"They are close family friends." she insisted. "I need to, at the very least, offer my condolences. I should… I should call Mother too. She has probably already gotten in touch with a florist… I need to know if she is going to send something on behalf of the whole family or…"

"Effie." he interrupted quietly. "It can all keep until you're feeling a bit better."

He was watching her carefully, as if he expected her to crack under pressure, to burst in tears or go into complete hysterics… She was very good at compartmentalizing though, she had always been. The tears that burned her eyes, she blinked away. The lump in her throat, she forced herself to breathe around. The oppressing sorrow in her chest…

"After lunch." she whispered, for herself more than for his sake. "I need to know if I can help them in any way." She shot him a slightly apprehensive glance, wincing a little. "I know they are our political opponents but this is… This is personal, Haymitch, not business. I…"

"I know." He waved his hand in the air. "Take the afternoon off."

She nodded, half-certain Lyssa would already be at their parents' or at the Cranes' if they wanted her there, trying to help as much as she could. She needed to do the same. She owed it to Seneca to…

There was a knock on the door and when Haymitch bid them to enter, Katniss walked in carrying their lunch in greasy paper bags that turned Effie's stomach. She spared a thought for her figure and the hours she would need to put in the gym later on but the smell was also very appetizing and she immediately attacked her food with a small thank for the girl.

"Tell Peeta he's gonna have to step in for Effie this afternoon, yeah, sweetheart?" Haymitch dismissed the girl. "And warn Plutarch's office too. If his assistant can be bothered to relay the message on time, that is."

Effie didn't comment on the dig at Fulvia and neither did Katniss, though given the small smirk on her lips and the way she squeezed Effie's shoulder on the way out, the comment would probably be repeated, amplified and delivered with a nice little poisonous bow around it.

"That shit's actually good." Haymitch offered after having taken a bite of his own sandwich.

She hummed a distracted I told you so, scrolling through her social media account, trying to monitor the situation… The news of Seneca's death had made a big splash in the news circle, it was all anyone could talk about it seemed. Political figures were coming out left and right to offer condolences and pay tribute… She would need to post something herself and to add something tasteful on Haymitch's official account too…

It was plain to see he would have liked her to drop the phone but didn't quite know how to go about it without angering her. He was treating her weirdly, as if she was made of glass, and she didn't like it very much, which was why when her screen flashed with her mother's picture, she sighed but accepted the call. "Hello, Mother."

"Euphemia." Elindra greeted her, actually sounding a little pained. Then again, she had known Seneca since birth and she wasn't as heartless as she liked to pretend. Seneca had been over at their house so often over the years… For play dates in their childhood, to hang out during their teenage years, as a handy date to pull out last minute in their adulthood… He was practically family.

And, suddenly, it didn't matter that she hadn't talked to her mother in months, not since Lyssa's divorce, or that they were still angry at each other. "How are you?"

"Oh… I am at the Cranes', actually. I am trying to make myself useful. Ari went to lie down and Oresto is…" Her mother cut herself off and cleared her throat awkwardly.

Effie had no trouble imagining Arabella Crane had gone to bed, probably after taking one of the pills Seneca used to pilfer from her in their youth. As for Oresto… He may not have been seeing eye to eye with Seneca but Seneca had been his heir, his legacy, and to lose that… Yes, he must have been devastated.

"You father and your sister are here too, you know." Elindra added after a beat, the reproach clear in her voice. "Since you still had not gotten in touch, I thought…"

"I know." she cut her mother off, quite rudely. "I was going to, Mother. It is a bit of a… shock."

"Yes, I imagine it must be." Elindra sighed. "Do you have any more information? The Peacekeepers refuse to tell Oresto anything. It is an outrage, really…"

"Nothing useful." she interrupted again, taking another bite of her sandwich.

There was a short silence on the other side of the line. She took advantage of it to steal a fry from the plastic container on the coffee table. She also pretended she didn't see Haymitch feed Rascal tiny pieces of meat from his own sandwich.

"Euphemia, are you eating?" her mother eventually asked, her voice utterly incredulous. "At a time like this?"

Effie made a face, immediately feeling guilty – because she was having lunch instead of crying her eyes out over her friend or because of the junk food she was gorging on was anyone's guess. "I was very hungry?" It sounded like an excuse and, given her mother's shocked silence, it wasn't a really good one. She cleared her throat. "I will be over as soon as I can, Mother. Can I pick up anything or… Is there anything I can do in the meantime?"

"Your father has taken charge." Elindra sighed. "Oresto is not in any state to do anything. That is assuming the Peacekeepers are willing to release the…" There was a small hesitation from her mother, her voice turning to slight disgust. "…the remains. They are apparently contemplating an autopsy but Oresto is eager to avoid a potentially bigger scandal. It is quite… I cannot say I enjoy the thought of poor Seneca being… If you could do something about it…"

Of course there would be an autopsy if they suspected foul play…

She made a face at the thought, placing what was left of her sandwich down, her appetite now officially gone. "I will see if I can… speed up the process but I cannot interfere."

"Speeding up the process would already help a lot. They need to grieve, not…" Elindra sighed again. "Please, do get here as soon as you can, will you? Your father would appreciate the help. Lyssandra and I are more suited to flower arrangements and funerals organization than we are to battling with outrageous Peacekeepers nosing in everyone's business."

That sounded like a lot of fun.

She hung up after promising to be as quick as she could.

Haymitch was watching her, munching on his fries, his sandwich long gone. "You're off to the Cranes', then?"

She nodded. "I will swing by the office before I come home tonight. I might be late. Don't wait for me."

"I always wait for you, princess." he countered with a smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Take Boggs along with Gale."

It took a lot to unsettle her but this did. "What do you…"

"If Crane was murdered, I'm not happy with you wandering around his family unprotected." he interrupted. "And I guarantee the Peacekeepers are gonna be a lot more motivated to do their job if Boggs's there to glower at them… Plus, I've got a veiled interest in this… If it's a shady deal that turned ugly, that's one thing… But an influent politician being murdered when he's about to announce he's running for the next presidential race?" He shook his head. "Don't like it. You're taking Boggs."

It didn't take her long to connect the dots.

She frowned. "You think Coin…"

"I think he'd have been her main opponent." He shrugged. "And I wouldn't put anything past that woman. Maybe I'm wrong. I hope I'm wrong." But he didn't think he was, she could see it, even as he planted a goodbye kiss on her lips. "Be careful, sweetheart. And call if you need me. Any time."

He wasn't the kind of boyfriend you called when you needed him, no matter how much you needed him and no matter how much he would have liked to be, but she appreciated the sentiment all the same.

She had fully expected Boggs to protest his new assignment but she was surprised when he actually agreed it was a good idea. Security around Haymitch had been tightened and would remain thus until they were certain it wasn't a political assassination and Boggs seemed eager to go straight to the source to discover more. If Gale wasn't thrilled to be shadowed by his boss, he was smart enough not to show it.

It was a long afternoon, even with Boggs there to smooth things over with the Peacekeepers in charge of the case. Convincing her father that letting the investigation proceed without influence was best took her a while. Convincing Oresto that an autopsy would help them get to the truth and didn't they owe that much to Seneca? wasn't a walk in the park. But the worst part, by far, was the moment Seneca's current secret boyfriend came knocking on the door, in tears, with good intentions but terrible timing.

It had been very clear from Oresto Crane's crimson face and tangible fury that, for how grateful he was for their help, they were now intruding. Always attune to others' feelings, Lyssa suggested they left the Cranes in peace and so they had gone.

Effie was completely exhausted by that point. The day had been more than emotional and she had taken breaks to handle social media on top of it, her own account as well as Haymitch's, conferring with Peeta when it was useful…

Boggs was confident enough that she was safe and so left her with Gale for main protection while he went back to the Mansion to check on things. She honestly almost told him she would be going with him but let herself be convinced to go back to her parents' for dinner.

She didn't know why she had bothered though because, the moment they were home, Tadius rushed to his study to catch up on his lost day of work, leaving her to sit uncomfortably in the sitting-room with Lyssa and their mother.

She almost accepted the drink her mother offered, she was that desperate, but she didn't mix her fertility treatment with alcohol and so regretfully declined with a look full of longing. She requested an orange juice instead with a vague excuse about having to swing by the office later that night.

Elindra was shooting her suspicious looks so she was grateful when Lyssa started talking about the boys, distracting her a little. Once their mother was back on her favorite topic: how Lyssa should never have divorced Rufus, Effie felt free to relax a little.

"Do not slouch, Euphemia, it is unbecoming." Elindra scolded and Effie instinctively sat straighter even though her back was aching.

The doorbell mercifully rang halfway through the dull conversation but Lyssa was quick and shot to her feet to answer the door, even though their mother huffed after her that they had a butler for that sort of things. And Lyssa had never rushed to open the door in Effie's memory so she frowned a little, wondering if her sister was as desperate as she was to escape or…

"How lovely to see you again!" Lyssandra's voice floated to them. There was the low rumble of a man's voice and then Lyssa's high-pitched one softened. "Terrible circumstances, yes… We are all very affected, naturally."

And yet there was something almost giddy about her sister's tone.

Effie and Elindra shared a look.

Not that there was any sort of special bond between them but they both perfectly knew what that tone in Lyssa's voice meant and that was probably why they both stood up and made their way to the corridor as casually as they could.

Effie wasn't quite surprised to find her father's lawyer there. Leo was beaming right back at her sister.

She felt her mother stiffen in disapproval next to her and quickly drew her back to the sitting-room, spilling out the first thing she could think of to distract her from her eldest daughter potentially getting involved with a lawyer who didn't have the right pedigree.

There were a lot of things that could have shocked Elindra into forgetting Lyssa for a moment: finally acknowledging her relationship with Haymitch, the fact that they were trying to have a child… She settled for the less explosive one.

"I intend to go into politics once President Abernathy's term is done." she announced. "What do you think about it?"

As planned, her mother stopped glaring at the corridor, her blue eyes snapping back to her. "Aren't you already involved in politics? From what I gathered Press Secretary is a political position…"

Effie forced a bright smile, battling her eyelashes. "I mean true politics. Getting elected. Plutarch Heavensbee thinks that in a few years I could…"

"Oh, goodness!" Elindra scoffed. "Do not tell me you are entertaining thoughts of becoming President, Euphemia! This is preposterous."

She could only hope that the long lecture that followed was time enough for Lyssa to either get asked out or to take the first step and ask Leo out. She really hoped it was worth it because Elindra was still ranting about it by the time they sat down for dinner and, upon asking what the matter was now and being appraised of her potential projects, Tadius lifted his eyebrows, tilted his head and then asked Elindra to pass him the wine.

By the time she managed to make her escape, her head was about ready to burst and she asked Gale to drive her back, unwilling to risk sitting behind a wheel.

True to his word and despite the time, Haymitch was waiting for her, reading a book in bed with the cat curled up on his lap.

"That is why I love coming home to you." she declared, smiling at the sight of the two of them.

Haymitch closed his book and mock-glared at Rascal who was sleeping like the dead. "He's too fucking heavy. We should cut him off the treats. Maybe he'd finally go after mice then."

She crawled on the bed and lied there for a while, staring at the ceiling, finally letting the events of the day settling over her. She needed to get up and take a shower, put on some pajamas… The moment Haymitch's fingers started playing with her hair though she knew she wouldn't be moving any time soon. It felt too good.

"How are you doing, sweetheart?" he asked quietly.

"I do not know." she admitted. "It is strange. Like a weird dream." She hesitated. "We were not that close anymore but…"

"He was an important part of your life." he offered when her sentence trailed off.

"Yes." she breathed out. "You should reach out to Oresto Crane. I know you do not like him but it will mean a lot to him to have a President's condolences. Even if it is yours. He is… I never saw him like this. It was like he was his own shadow. It was… unsettling."

"He lost a son." He sighed. "I'm gonna call him in the morning." She shot him a surprised look at the lack of fight but he shrugged. "Plutarch said the same thing. Looks bad for me not to call even if he's an asshole and his son wasn't much better." She flinched and he made a face. "Sorry."

"I'm going to take a shower." she declared, escaping the bed a little too quickly.

He was wincing. "Effie…"

"I'm fine." she lied.

She wasn't fine but she was grateful he didn't follow her into the bathroom because… Well, if she lingered too long under the shower because the water could wash away her tears… She was glad for the privacy of it.

He still looked a bit awkward when she eventually made her way back between the sheets though. "Look…"

"It's alright." she cut him off. "We cannot agree on everything."

She snuggled into his side as much as she could given the dead weight on his lap that didn't seem to want to move any time soon, not even to leave room for her.

"Still… I'm sorry you're in pain…" he offered, still awkward. "I hate that you're in pain…"

She closed her eyes, breathing his smell in, thinking she would rather it was Seneca than him even if the thought was unfair and… "Sometimes that cannot be helped."

But it had been a long difficult year and she was tired and so she didn't try to put a chipper silver lining on it.

He must have understood because he didn't say anything more, he simply held her tight.

And that was enough.

Poor Seneca XD Weeeell, at least the sandwiches were good ;) Let me know if you liked this chapter!

We're close to the end now! Only 5 left after this one ;)