Chapter Five | You are a bolt of lightning in a snare,
"It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;
Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be."
2.2, 118-119 Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare
A month after their initial night together, Elara finds herself in Gloss's bed again. She honestly doesn't know if it had been an accident or not. When he had heard that she was in the Capitol at the same time as him, Gloss had invited her to grab a few drinks with him. They were both a little tipsy. She can't remember exactly how this happened, but…she likes it. Being with him. She almost feels like she shouldn't, but she does.
Upon her very reluctant agreement with President Snow a month or so ago, Elara's been with far more men than she ever thought possible in only one month's time. It's strange and horrifying how much she's changed since her first night in a client's bed. She's not the same innocent youth that she'd been before. She hasn't been since she had stepped out of the arena.
When Gloss wakes up and realizes that she's in his bed, he doesn't comment on it. He probably doesn't even remember much of last night. Or so she thinks.
"Morning," he grumbles with a wide yawn, throwing his arms up over his head and stretching. The sheet that's covering them shudders down a bit, revealing the toned and very muscular chest that she's getting more and more familiar with.
He's so blasé about the matter that Elara sarcastically drawls, "Why yes, I'm in your bed and we're both naked. I don't remember how that happened, do you?"
He chuckles as if this happens all the time for him (she really hopes it doesn't) and responds with a sleepy shrug. "Dunno. My memories are always fuzzy when I drink vodka. Why – is that a touch of shame I hear in your voice, Winston?"
She sends him an unimpressed glower. "Shame isn't quite the right word for it," she quips, sitting up and searching for her clothes. Gloss smirks.
She tries not to look at him. Yes, she's seen more naked men than she cares to admit this past month, but she still feels uncomfortable at the thought of nudity. And Gloss – well, he's a very fine specimen. She doesn't want him to think that she's a complete prude, but she also doesn't want to come across as the total opposite either.
Elara isn't sure whether she wants to impress him, or just ensure that he doesn't make fun of her for her lack of experience in these matters. As she wiggles to the edge of the bed and grapples with her shirt, he makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Annoyed at him, she glares over her shoulder, opening her mouth to tell him to shut up, but the moment she gets a good eyeful of him, her words die on her tongue.
In the light of morning, Gloss Augustine is incredibly gorgeous. It occurs to her that she hasn't actually looked at him properly yet. The first morning, he had to leave very early to catch his train back to District 1, and she was far too sleepy to take notice of him after muttering out a brief goodbye. But now…well.
As he sits up in bed with the sheets slung low to his hips, Gloss's tanned skin is on full display. Perhaps it's just his muscular physique, but he makes the room seem small. His broad shoulders boast at the fitness training he's undergone in his home district, and with his mussed up hair and hazel eyes, he creates an image that any woman would drool over. And – he's smirking widely at her, as if he knows exactly what she's thinking. She really hopes not.
"Cat got your tongue, Winston?" he drawls, and purposefully raises his arms over his head in a seemingly casual position. He blinks at her with very amused eyes. She's not positive, but she suspects that he's deliberately flexing his biceps.
She makes a disgruntled noise in the back of her throat and doesn't respond, settling for a roll of her eyes as she turns back to quickly slip her shirt over her wiry frame. Honestly, she can't put her clothes on fast enough. She will never admit it to anyone, but she feels a bit lacking next to his incredible good looks.
Sure, she's pretty enough. Snow would never have put her into this business – as he calls it – if she wasn't. But she's never been particularly busty. Her skin is a little paler than average because of the lack of sunlight in District 5. She's not what one might call a classical beauty. She is unconventionally pretty – all sharp angles and wiry limbs – and her stylists often complain about her auburn hair and how it never seems to be able to decide whether it wants to be red or brown.
She's definitely not the type of woman a man like Gloss Augustine would go for. Then again, it isn't as if he's 'going' for her anyhow. She's always been a realist. Her common sense has kept her on her feet all this time, and she's not about to throw it to the wind. Her heart is racing simply because she hadn't expected to wake up next to him this morning, and she's blushing because…well, because who wouldn't blush in the face of Gloss's nude glory?
Nude glory – now that's a new one. She really needs to get out of here. Before she can get up, though, Gloss beats her to it.
He's still smirking when he goes to stand, totally unconcerned about the fact that he's not wearing a single stitch of clothing, and drawls, "How do you like your eggs?"
Elara stares at him in shock – then belatedly realizes that she's staring at a very naked version of him and her face gets as red as her hair. Gloss purses his mouth to stop himself from bursting out into laughter. She sees it and glowers at him.
"Excuse me?" she bites back, not nearly as unconcerned as he apparently is. She's still not wearing underwear. They seem to have disappeared on her.
He just laughs at her and strolls over to his dresser, where he pulls out a pair of briefs and casually slips them on. Elara turns away to give him a bit of privacy, not that he needs it. Truthfully, the action is more for her than for him, and he seems to know that.
His tone is laughing when he quips, "Your eggs, Winston. For breakfast. Or am I just your latest conquest and you're over me?" He smirks, and she huffs.
"I was never into you to begin with," she mutters, and then says, "And I think the term 'conquest' is being a little dramatic, don't you?"
He smirks. "I guess we'll find out, won't we?" he asks.
She's about to ask him what on earth he even means by that when he suddenly leans down to pick something up off the floor. The sight of her underwear dangling from his fingers makes her blush brightly, and he laughs aloud at the sight she makes.
"Looking for these?" he wonders slyly, twirling them in the air like they're some sort of prize. To say that she really doesn't care for his teasing is a blatant understatement.
"Give," she orders, as if speaking to a dog. Gloss raises an eyebrow.
Deciding to be difficult just for the hell of it, he drawls again, "Sunnyside or over easy?"
Elara glares. She doesn't know why he wants her to eat breakfast with him so badly, but in order to preserve what little dignity she has left, she grinds out, "Scrambled," just to be stubborn.
He doesn't seem to mind. With a smirking shrug, Gloss turns to the bedroom door and calls, "Scrambled it is!"
He brings her underwear with him, which makes Elara so frustrated she could scream.
"Gloss!" she shouts, abruptly giving into the desire as she vaults herself off the bed to follow. She shuffles into the kitchen awkwardly, dragging her shirt down as far as it will go as she steps onto the tiled floor. Gloss takes one look at her and laughs uproariously. He's so busy laughing that he doesn't stop Elara from snatching her underwear out of his hands. She pushes herself behind the counter to slide them on with an annoyed glower.
"Wow," he laughs, running a hand through his hair. He snickers at her and says, "I should keep you around just for the amusement. I haven't laughed this hard in ages."
She rolls her eyes and shoves him. The hard push barely makes him budge, but he still smirks at the attempt.
As Elara helps herself to a glass of orange juice and Gloss starts making breakfast, she finds that the awkwardness she'd felt earlier vanishes. Gloss is strangely easy to talk to. Not that she's ever been intimidated by him, per se, but he's built up a reputation since his Games. She always assumed that he's a typical Career Victor, who adores the Capitol and has a bit of a superior mindset regarding the other Victors. But, as they fall into a conversation about their homes, Elara realizes that she is wrong about him.
He's…nice. In his own way. He does have a penchant for occasionally making fun of people, but then again so does she. They actually make a half decent pair as they sit down and start eating, and Elara is definitely taken by surprise by this. He's not what she had expected.
She's not, either. Though Elara Winston had only just recently won her Games a few months back, Gloss has since assumed that she is just as sarcastic and biting as she is in interviews. And it's true, she is very sarcastic, but her dry wit is something he finds himself enjoying immensely, especially when they randomly get onto the subject of Caesar Flickerman's latest hair color and she says something about how it reminds her of moldy bread. He nearly chokes on his water at that comment, which makes her grin wolfishly at him, and –
He doesn't know what it is, exactly. Maybe the way the sunlight turns her hair into spun copper, or the blue eyes that flash into his with a subtle mischief that he finds addicting, but Gloss actually finds himself yearning to know more about her.
It's…well. He's not sure what it is, but he likes it.
The training sessions pass by far too quickly for Elara's liking. It's selfish of her, honestly. A large part of her is worried because her tributes need more time to prepare. They're not ready for the Games. Maybe they never will be – maybe no one ever is. But a larger part of her is anxious for another reason entirely.
They're on borrowed time, her and Gloss. She knows she'll see him again after the Games are finished, but it could be months before their schedules overlap. She can't even remember the last time they'd been able to sneak into his apartment for a proper night together. Well actually that's a blatant lie. She remembers it as if it were yesterday. She can even recall the ridiculously romantic music he'd jokingly put on before she had told him to cut it out. He hadn't had much of a chance to keep up with his jokes before she had him on the bed, and by then, he couldn't have denied her even if he wanted to.
Anyway – they're on borrowed time. Every day that passes is a day that she will mourn and celebrate simultaneously, once she returns to the limbo of District 5 and tries to remember, in as much clarity as she can, exactly how it feels like when he kisses her.
Despite these morose thoughts though, Elara and Gloss both have other commitments. When do they not? When they aren't mentoring children during the Games season, they're dealing with clients and photoshoots and interviews in the Capitol. Their love affair, or whatever it is, is something that must be pushed to the side. They don't always have the nights to themselves, even here in the Tribute Center. It isn't as if she can just waltz down to the District 1 suite, march past the tributes and stylists and escorts, and hop into his bed. No one can know that they have this type of relationship, even though she's sure some of them suspect.
Sometimes, when they're able to, they camp out on the roof for most of the night, talking and dozing until the sun comes up and they are forced to return to their floors before anyone notices they're gone. Sometimes they can't even do that, because the rooftop isn't always empty, and they have to make up halfhearted excuses to the other Victors as to why they've arrived there, together. Not that the other Victors really care. They're probably the only ones in Panem who know about Elara and Gloss's taboo relationship and don't give a shit.
In any case, since tonight is the last night before the Games start, they're both much too busy with their tributes to steal even a few seconds together. Elara and Harley do what they can to prepare their tributes for their final interviews with Caesar, but ultimately it's all on them. Elara isn't worried about Matilde; the girl is confident enough to get up on stage and follow the strategy they've planned out. But Graham…
Elara can tell he's nervous. It doesn't take a genius to see that his hands are shaking and his eyes are frightened. The strategy that her and Harley have developed for him is simply to charm the Capitol as best as he can and secure sponsors, but she isn't sure if he'll be able to pull it off. She's worried.
At seven o'clock, the tributes and their mentors gather in the long hallway outside of the stage, where Caesar Flickerman's voice can be heard as he introduces the show. Matilde looks elegant in a simple blue dress that off sets her eyes and makes her pale skin look luxurious. She's got her chin up and her eyes are blazing with determination. Harley nods approvingly at her when she steps into the hallway.
Behind her, Graham stumbles over dressed in smart looking suit. The lapels are glittery black, and the bowtie he's wearing is blue to match Matilde's dress. He'd look wonderful, if not for his ghostly complexion and shaking figure. Elara exchanges a look with Harley and heads over to him, intent on trying to buck up his courage as much as possible.
She pulls him aside and quietly asks, "How do you feel?"
It's a stupid question, but she wants to hear him say it.
Graham shudders, "…Scared."
She grasps his shoulder tightly and catches his eye.
"Why?"
This time, he looks a little annoyed at her. His tone is impatient when he responds, "I'm one of the weakest tributes here."
She raises an eyebrow at him and decides to take a tougher approach when she drawls, "So what? Caesar isn't going to care. He's interviewed dozens of thirteen year olds before. All you have to do is show that crowd why you're different than all the others."
He frowns mightily at her and mumbles, "I'm no different from them at all."
To be honest, Elara's at the end of her rope with him. He isn't even trying. She just wants to help as much as she can, but he doesn't even seem to care. With a sigh, she takes a moment to rein in her impatience and leans down to his level to solemnly say, "You are different. You're smart. You want to be an engineer, right? Design electrical circuits for District 5? Do you really think that any of those other tributes could even tell you what a circuit board is?"
Sighing, he wonders, "How will that help?"
Her eyes flash. "Because, Graham, it will show the Capitol that you have goals. That when you win these Games, you're going to go on and become the greatest engineer Panem's ever seen. It will make them want to invest in you. You just have to be confident and prove to them that you're worth sponsoring."
Swallowing thickly, he asks, "…How do I do that?"
Elara pauses, then murmurs, "Show them your loyalty." When he gives her a confused look, she explains, "Tell them about how District 5 powers the entire Capitol, and tell them how you proud you are to live right next door to the Coriolanus 9."
Graham sullenly reminds her, "But I don't live next door to it. I live in the – "
"I know where you live," she interrupts with a sigh. "That doesn't matter. What matters is that you're confident and charming. It's not hard, Graham. All you have to do is smile. Just…" she wrinkles her nose thoughtfully and tells him, "just think of Caesar as your grandfather."
Graham just mumbles, "I never knew my grandfather."
Elara suddenly wants to pull out her hair. She turns him to face her and firmly says, "Your father then. Graham, please just try."
He frowns but nods, and Elara gestures back to the line, where the tributes and their mentors are waiting. Most of them haven't even noticed Elara pulling Graham aside. They're too busy giving last minute advice to their kids. As she starts walking back to where Harley and Matilde are waiting, though, her eyes clash with Gloss's, who is watching her carefully.
He gives her a questioning look, to which she purses her mouth and sighs. Her silent answer makes his eyes flash with barely detectable concern. For her, mainly, though she's sure he doesn't enjoy watching her young tribute break down in front of everyone. They don't have time for much else, though, before Caesar is announcing the District 1 female tribute, a girl by the name of Glimmer, and Gloss turns around to say a few final words to her before she flounces onto the stage in her short pink dress.
The interviews go on without a hitch. District 1 is, as usual, bursting with confidence. Elara watches the screen thoughtfully, studying the tributes as they go on stage. District 2 is much the same – confident and ready to win. By the time it's District 5's turn, Elara gives Matilde a pat on the back and the girl heads off to the stage. As always, the crowd doesn't cheer quite as loudly for District 5 as it does with the Career districts, but it doesn't seem to bother Matilde. She is full of grace as she walks to where Caesar is waiting.
Elara shoots Harley a look, and he nods at her.
"Now, my dear," Caesar begins to say as they take their seats, "I hear that you're from a family of scientists. Is that true?"
Matilde smiles, "Yes. Both of my parents are hydroelectrical scientists who work in the Grid."
Raising an eyebrow in interest, Caesar wonders, "The Grid?"
Matilde nods, "It's a neighborhood in District 5 where most of the scientists and engineers live. It's also where the power plants are located."
"Ah!" Caesar chuckles, as if he's just learned something of immense importance. Elara rolls her eyes. Anyone with a brain could tell you what the Grid is, even someone who isn't from District 5.
Leaning forward, Caesar asks, "And what did your family think when your name was chosen at the Reaping? Are they proud? Nervous?"
Matilde pauses a moment, clearly hesitant to say what Elara's sure she wants to. Any parent would be horrified. Instead of harping on that, though, the girl just tells him, "They're confident that I can win."
Harley grunts in approval. That was a good response. The crowd clearly thinks so, too, because they cheer for her.
Caesar laughs, "Wonderful! And what skills are you bringing into the arena, Matilde?"
The girl smiles wryly, "Well, Caesar, I'm quick on my feet and I'm a good problem solver. My mentors seem to think that I'm very resourceful."
The last sentence makes Caesar chuckle, "Ah yes. Elara Winston and Harley Balstrod. They were also quite cunning in their Games. It must be a District 5 thing, right folks?" The cheers heighten at the mention of the Victors, much to Elara's annoyance. This interview isn't about her or Harley. It's about getting sponsors for Matilde.
The girl knows what she's doing though, when she cuts in to say, "Well, our education system is really top notch, Caesar. We value intellect, which means that I'm definitely equipped to deal with any challenge that come my way."
Caesar eats it up. He stands, bringing her with him, and raises her hand into the air. "Matilde Paynor from District 5!" And when Matilde makes her way off the stage, he calls, "And now, also from District 5, let's hear it for Graham Tweed!"
Before the boy can step forward, Elara grabs his shoulders and firmly tells him, "Remember, just try your best to charm them. You can do this, Graham."
He gives her a shaky nod, but thankfully, he isn't shaking when he steps onto the stage. No, but he is clearly nervous. Elara crosses her arms and watches with a tight expression.
"Graham," Caesar says, gesturing for him to sit, "you're a handsome young man, aren't you? What do you like to do, hmm? Any hobbies?"
The boy stiffens at the question and flounders. Elara has a feeling that his physical reaction would have been the same no matter what question Caesar had asked. She swallows and prays that he thinks up something to say. He's only got two minutes.
After a brief pause, Graham stutters, "Well, I like to draw."
It isn't exactly the most useful talent. Not like sword fighting or throwing daggers or weaving nets. Caesar presses his face into an interested expression, but Elara can tell that he's not really as interested as he appears to be.
Before he can ask something else, Graham pips up with a slightly stronger, "I draw designs for the power plants. I want to be an engineer and make electrical circuit boards."
The sudden explanation seems to throw Caesar off, but he recovers quickly and asks, "Circuit boards? Now that's a new one! And what do these circuit boards do, Graham?"
It seems to be the right question, and Graham apparently has the right answer, for he sits up and eagerly says, "Well they do all sorts of things. They operate the power plants, and they power the whole district – and the Capitol, too."
Caesar smiles indulgently at him. "Is that right? Well you have some big goals! I'm sure one day you'll get there, am I right folks?" People respond to Caesar's words with a loud exclamation, which seems to both frighten and uplift Graham simultaneously.
The rest of the interview goes well – far better than Elara expects. By the time Graham comes off the stage, Elara is so relieved that she's the one shaking this time.
"You did great," she tells him with a smile. "Go on up to the suite and rest. You've earned it."
He gives her a tiny smile and heads over to the elevator. Elara's still smiling when she looks up and sees Gloss and Cashmere ambling over to them.
"Hey, nice job," Cashmere says. "I hate these interviews. Glad they're over."
Gloss stands next to Elara. His arm brushes hers, but other than that, they don't touch. There are too many people here; too many tributes and mentors and stylists.
"He did a good job," Gloss murmurs to her, and she gives him a look of relief.
"I think I was as nervous as he was," she admits. He chuckles.
The lighthearted atmosphere doesn't last very long though. The Hunger Games start tomorrow, and even though Matilde and Graham did a decent job with their interviews tonight, it doesn't necessarily mean they'll get past the first day of the Games.
After a few minutes of chatting, Elara squeezes Gloss's hand briefly and tells the siblings, "We're gonna head up. See you in the viewing room tomorrow?"
They both nod at her and watch as her and Harley make their way to the elevators as well.
"You think she'll be alright?" Cashmere wonders quietly as Elara's figure disappears behind the sleek silver doors. There's a tinge of concern in her voice. It isn't easy getting such a young tribute.
Gloss pauses, but in a firm voice he responds, "She'll be fine. She's strong. That why I – " and then he cuts himself off, because he was about to say something that he really shouldn't.
Even if it's true, he's not allowed to love Elara Winston.
Cashmere just smirks over at him knowingly and scoffs, "Honestly, if I didn't like her so much myself, I'd tell you to stop acting like an idiot."
Gloss just chuckles and swings an arm over his sister's shoulders.
"Cash, you are seriously the most non-romantic person I've ever known. Besides, you've never needed a reason to call me an idiot."
Cashmere just scoffs at him and nudges him in the side with a sharp elbow.