Chapter Four: Day of the Dead

Much of District Four had been built in stone. Tall, dark buildings that towered three stories into the sky, with narrow alleyways connecting nearly every corner of the busy town section. Some alleys were wider and known to be of safer passage. Clotheslines hung between two buildings in some parts, families putting their clothes out to dry in the salty air. Window shutters were normally left open in order to let the air circulate around the dwellings and through the various shops that were stationed on the first level.

Some were even open now, in the early hours of the morning, as Stell made her way down one of the narrow stone staircases of a back alley. Her boot clad feet caused an echo for each step she took. Peacekeepers tended to be afraid of the narrow alleys, so they stayed out of these parts. Their fear came from good reason though.

If you got attacked down here, it was easy for your assailant to slip away. There were still some who weren't above attacking a peacekeeper. But they all knew not to mess with the Victors.

"Help me," A voice wheezed from the shadows, "please." Her gaze found his easily, the old man's eyes widening as he took in her face. It had taken him a moment to place her since her hair was now back to its natural auburn bronze.

The change from her icy blonde had been quite the discussion among her and her prep team right before she returned to District Four, but in the end they had obliged. Stell felt just a little bit like her old self again with it and had yet to hear anything about it from the President.

"I can't." She told the old man, not even pausing to have a conversation. Giving to the poor as a Victor, past your winning year, was forbidden. Stell had a particular destination in mind this morning anyways, and she knew she couldn't be late.

She turned down another side alley, following the path to the end where it deposited her on the far end of the docks. Fishermen were already there, lugging large nets over their shoulders as they made their way on and off the boats, stocking up provisions and supplies for the day.

The man she was looking for wasn't hard to spot. He was stationed by the gangplank of one of the smaller vessels, his black hair astray atop his head as he barked orders to one of the other sailors. She started making her way over, staring down the peacekeepers she passed, just daring them to say anything to her.

It wasn't a surprise at all that he recognized her right away. They had grown up together, "Riptide." Several emotions flickered through his eyes in a span of several seconds. Excitement. Anger. Fear. Betrayal.

"What're you doing here, Stell?" His voice had deepened even more since the last time they spoke, right after her family's funeral.

"We need to talk." She glances behind him onto his ship, looking for the peacekeepers who will be stationed aboard for the day, "Alone."

"About?"

She takes a step closer, "It's time." The two words make his lips purse together.

For a moment, she thinks he's just going to tell her to get lost, but then he turns his head, "Marnick!" A young boy's head snaps up from behind a crate on board, "I need you to cover the inventory sheet," The boy scrambles towards them, his eyebrows raising when he sees Stell. Riptide just shoves the clipboard into his hands before inclining his head towards the ship, "Come on."

She follows, a small smirk finding its way onto her face at the feeling on a ship beneath her feet again. It's a small vessel, only holding about fifteen for a crew. Most are already on board, and they have to shoulder past a few of them to reach the ladder that goes below deck to the holding spaces. Both Riptide and Stell chance a few glances towards the busy main section of the docks before making their way below, making sure no one notices them that shouldn't. "Is it safe?" Her voice is barely above a whisper.

"Yeah." He's facing her now, his arms crossed over his chest, "What is it?"

She gets right to the point, "Snow isn't happy about Katniss and Peeta," She tells him, "He thinks they've given the Districts hope that things can change and I know he wouldn't be this worried if it was just one District that was uneasy."

There's a long pause between the two of them. The only sound around them being the plethora of footsteps from above and the gentle lapping of water on the ship's side. "What're the Victors saying?"

"There aren't many safe places to talk in the Capitol, but here? Mags thinks it could be time, Finnick's unsure."

Riptide scowls at Finnick's name, "Right, your new boyfriend."

She thinks of telling him then, how it's all fake. How she's being forced into it like everything else, but she also knows that him having the truth would just put him in more danger down the line, so instead she just chuckles darkly, "Don't I deserve to be happy?"

"No."

Stell shrugs, "Are the people ready?"

"We were, a few years ago," Riptide stares off to the side as he continues speaking, "Then they caught Harriet and Wolfe for plotting and had them executed." He says it like Stell wasn't there and she has half a sense to point that out, but instead she keeps her mouth shut. It's a small miracle in itself that he's spoken to her for this long, "I think we could work up to it. Check back in a couple months, I'll see what I can do." She nods, following him wordlessly back up the ladder.

The peacekeeper assigned to the ship is just making his way on board, "What're you doing here?" He barks at Stell, his hand hovering over the pistol on his hip.

It's an empty threat, she knows he'd never shoot her, "Looking for work," She lies easily, "I get bored."

He scoffs at her, up in her face now as the rest of the crew watches on, "Why would a Victor want to work?"

"She just answered that." Everyone's heads turn at the sound of Finnick's voice. He's making his way along the mainframe towards them, a soft smile on his lips as he focuses on Stell.

"Victors aren't allowed at sea on Capitol ships."

"This is a Capitol ship?" Stell plays dumb, she glances towards Riptide, "I thought you still worked on Tauris's."

"I had to switch over."

Finnick's at her side then, his arm slipping around her waist as he presses a quick kiss to her check, "This vessel is about to be behind schedule." The peacekeeper tells them, "You need to disembark."

"Wow," Stell smirks at the official, "Such a big word for a peacekeeper." Finnick's taking her hand then, squeezing it hard in warning before tugging her gently forward.

"We were just doing that," He nods to a few members of the crew, "Best of luck today, boys. Come on, love."

It had been two months since the two of them had started their 'relationship'. While it wasn't official yet, they hadn't kissed and the rumors were still just that, rumors, Finnick had taken to calling her 'love' on occasion within the confines of District Four. And steadily Stell had grown used to his touch. He was always gentle in a way that made her sometimes question the validity of his actions.

But then they'd be alone, and a switch would flip. He'd once again hate her, ignore her, and only speak in short, curt sentences. All of it reminding her that his feelings towards her would always be the same.

"See you soon, Rip." The young man's jaw just clenches together at her words before he goes back to work, rolling his eyes at the peacekeeper who told him to move faster. The ship was already pushed away by the time Stell and Finnick were on dry land.

He pulls her close to him, his head ducking down so he can whisper in her ear, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"I could ask you the same thing." He was leading them towards the center of town.

"Couldn't sleep, then I saw you making your way out of the Village."

"So, you decided to follow me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I had a hunch." He raises his head then, smiling at the shopkeepers who now occupy the street, "How do you know Orvis?" He asks, using Riptide's last name.

"We were friends as kids." She reminds him, "He was part of my final eight interviews, don't you remember?"

He nods, "That's right, he was."

"You know him outside of that?"

Another nod, "Yeah, one of my friends used to pick on him at school."

"No one ever picked on him."

"Not after third grade," Finnick chuckles, "You're welcome for that." She scowls at him, making his lips perk upwards slightly, "I've always been an upstanding citizen. Standing up for those who need me, helping old ladies cross the street,"

"Killing six tributes in your Games." It's such a dark comment that Finnick actually laughs, the sound resonating off the stone street and throughout the area. The smile on his face is genuine, the sight making Stell's stomach flip just a little.

"That's nothing compared to you." Stell just shakes her head, choosing not to comment.

A month later Stell finds herself in the middle of a graveyard. The tombstones surround her, the words mocking her.

'Rest in Peace'. How she wished she could do the very same thing. Have just a few hours of peace. Have time where the memories of the arena didn't haunt her, didn't gnaw away at who she was. She was in the tributes section of the graveyard, a thing she never really understood. The thought was that it was an honor to be laid to rest here. But really, Stell thought it'd be better if the tributes got to rest near deceased family or friends, not all shoved together in this small corner all by themselves.

The Capitol had put an effort in to make it look like an honor though. There was a plaque, right in the middle, that talked about the sacrifice each child had made in order to help keep peace and order in their country. How they would never be forgotten, how they hadn't died in vain.

It was a lie.

Stell never forgot them though. She made sure to visit them often. It helped her live with herself, made being a mentor just a touch more bearable. Because it was the last promise she always made to her tributes: they wouldn't be forgotten.

Her left-hand ghosts over the top of one of the stones. Mariah Burbank. She was Finnick's district partner. Made it to the top ten before being killed by the boy from District Seven. She was sixteen years old.

So was I, Stell can't help the comparison. She remembers watching her die, she'd been sitting between Cephas and her father at the time, her mother watching from a chair in the corner of their small, dingy, living room. She was only twelve at the time and maybe that's why she remembered it so clearly. It was the first year that it could've been her. Stell remembers how she'd been surprised at how guilty she'd felt about not being reaped.

Of all the names in that bowl, Mariah's had been chosen. It wasn't fair but it random. Still, Stell and the hundreds of other girls got to go home, and Mariah didn't. She got to die.

She walks down the row, her blood running cold when she sees his name.

Reed Baltic.

Her throat feels as though it's already closing up and she's not even next to it. She knows she won't be able to make it all the way down the row either, she's avoided it for years. A tear makes its way down her face and once again, it's as though she can feel his arm around her shoulders. She can almost hear his hearty chuckle as he laughs at their friends' antics.

"He's gone." She snaps herself out of it, the words coming out harshly. It's for the best, she thinks, as she looks up to take in the darkening sky. Not that it got cold yet once the sun went down, but it did get a bit chilly.

October was actually her favorite month of the year weather wise. Stell focuses on that as she makes her way towards the exit, her eyes gazing towards her family's graves as she passes by. She made sure to visit them first, pausing again would just waste time.

Stell chooses to take the beach route back to the Village, lingering for a couple minutes to watch the waves swell before crashing against the shore. Their steady rhythm calms her, provokes her into following with her breathing.

When she was little, she'd stay on the beach and watch the storm clouds roll all the way in until it was too late, and she'd race back home soaking wet. She's learned her lesson now, knowing that a storm can change its pace at the drop of a hat, so she keeps heading towards home.

She can see the lights on in Finnick's house as she enters the Village, can make out the silhouettes of multiple figures gathered around the table through the living room window. Only a few paces more and she can hear them.

Finnick, Favian, and Amos. It'd be hard not to hear them as Favian belts out an old sea shanty. "Put him in the long boat 'til he's sober!" A soft smile spreads over Stell's lips at the old song, "Pull out the bung and wet him all over!"

The other two join in, their voices overly loud and giving away their current state of inebriation, "Way hay, up she rises!"

"Hey!" It's Favian again, cutting them off, "You don't sing it then!"

Stell focuses on her own home that looms ever closer. She thinks about the fresh cod that she has in the fridge, debating internally on how she should prepare it. Halfway up the steps, a voice rings out, "Stell!" She turns. Amos is hanging halfway out of Finnick's front door, waving his hand around as though it'd be hard to spot him if he didn't. "Come here!"

She shakes her head and ignores him, going into her home instead and shutting the door. "Finnick! Go get your girlfriend!" She could hear Amos's drunken yelling through the windows she had left open. Stell moves quickly to close them, not wanting the coming rain to soak her floors. It wouldn't be the first time it'd happened, and she really didn't enjoy the cleanup.

No one interrupts her as she cooks. The storm rolls in, rain pelting the top of her house so hard that it echoes through the rest. It makes her tense up, the sound the same as when it'd rain on the ruins in the arena. A simple thing that used to bring her peace, she remembers how she used to love the sound. Even in the arena it brought her peace because it was just like home. She could forget where she was, if only for a couple hours.

Stell sets a single place for herself at the table, eating slowly in the dimly lit room as she stares out the window. The small shrubbery dances in the wind. Then suddenly her front door is flying open, and the knife that had been in Stell's hand is being thrown towards it. Luckily, the intruder ducks, and it sticks in deep to the wall and not Finnick's head. "Fuck." Is all he says, turning to look at it before looking back to where she sits across the room.

He's soaking wet and swaying slightly on his feet, "What're you doing here?!" Stell snaps, more upset that she almost killed him than at the puddle he's creating on her floor.

"I ran out of booze." He says it like it's obvious. He raises a hand, her eyes following to see the empty bottle he holds. "Thought you may have some."

"I don't think you need any more."

He rolls his eyes at her, turning and pulling the knife from the wall before making his way towards her, "I'm celebrating." He tells her smugly.

"Well, the line you walked to get over here definitely wasn't straight."

He ignores the comment, "You only turn twenty-four once, heartless."

She scowls at the nickname, "Only Johanna can call me that." Stell gets up, making her way towards the kitchen cabinets. She pretends not to notice Finnick grabbing a piece of fish off her plate and instead grabs a bottle of rum. Making her way back she puts the bottle unceremoniously down next to him, "Happy birthday." The words are dull.

Finnick responds cheerily anyways, "Thanks!" The top of the rum is screwed off and he takes a pull from it, Stell gathering up her dinner plate as he does so. "Favian and Amos went home."

"Smart," She says, rinsing the plate off, "it is storming outside." Stell puts it away, grabbing an extra dishtowel and throwing it at Finnick. He just watches it land at his feet. "Dry your hair enough so it stops dripping."

He takes another pull before picking it up and wiping down his arms and running the rag through his hair, "You're not as bad as I thought."

She looks up at that, "What?"

"To hang out with." He says, "Like these past three months going around town and to the Capitol."

"Thank-"

"Like don't get me wrong," He cuts her off, "You're still a bitch to people, but they deserve it. You're acting needs to get better though." She raises her eyebrows at him, "You'll give us away."

"What about your acting?"

"I'm doing great." She knows he is. He always seems to say the right thing, do the right thing, move around her in the right way. "Not easy though, especially with someone like you." He's baiting her, she can tell by his tone and the way one end of his mouth quirks upwards.

"Don't you have your own house to get back to?"

"What?" He's smirking more now, "You don't want to hang out with me?"

"You don't want to hang out with me," She corrects him, "and you only came over for booze, you got it, now go."

"I think you're the only girl in the world who would tell me that." Stell rolls her eyes as he props his feet up on the table, leaning back in the chair so it balances on two legs, "What makes you think I don't want to hang out with you, anyways?"

"Come on Finnick," she takes the bottle from him for a moment to take a sip, "we both know you can't stand me."

"Give me that." He swipes the bottle back, "And I can stand you, I just…" His words trail off as he thinks, a confused expression forming on his face.

"Are you gunna puke?"

"No," He scoffs, "I don't like what you've done." Stell just nodded, she knew that. "And you are a bitch. But you're always good with our tributes, you care about them when it's the last thing we should do."

"They deserve that." He just sits in silence at that, his eyes on the bottle that's now half empty. There's a faraway look in his eyes that she's never seen before. "What're you thinking about?"

"I don't know." Is his first response, she laughs a little, which makes him smile and then he's honest, "I'm thinking of why I don't like you." He looks at her then, his eyes glossed over now in a drunken haze, his words slurring more, "Some of it, I guess, isn't fair to hold against you. But I do. It makes me so angry." His grip tightens on the bottle, and he lets the chair tip forwards so it's stable on the ground, "I can't help it." Stell makes her way closer to him, resting a hand on his shoulder as she leans over his shoulder and takes the bottle from him.

He lets her take it from him, "It's late," She says, "I'm going to get ready for bed." He just nods, not moving from his spot at the table as she puts the bottle away and glances out the window, "You can sleep on the couch if you'd like."

Finnick watches her movements as close as he can, studying her as she moves from the kitchen, across the hall to her living room. She disappears for a moment and then reappears with two blankets, draping them over the back of the couch. Stell looks so young to him then and for a moment he wishes he didn't hate her like he does. He listens to her make her way up the stairs, then back down, watches as she places a pillow on the couch as well. All for someone who hasn't even accepted the offer to stay.

He stands, half stumbling towards the kitchen sink so he can splash some cold water over his face. He turns his head and leans forward, drinking straight from the faucet. It couldn't hurt to stay over, especially since it's still raining.

Given that their homes have the same layout, it's easy for him to find the bathroom. He stays in the small room for several minutes, debating on if he actually is going to throw up or not before deciding that it's the latter. It wouldn't hurt to stay; he convinces himself again. Besides, he doesn't really like being alone on his birthday anyways.

"I look like a pirate." A giddy grin spreads across Stell's face as she looks at her reflection, turning to see the back of the long black leather coat she wore. It looked more like armor, with golden engraved details on the coat tails, shoulders, and down the arms. A large belt with intricate detailing gave the illusion of a slightly smaller waist. She'd even gotten to put boots on, very similar to those she wore back home.

"I thought you'd like it." Naboo stands behind her, his arms crossed over his chest with a small smirk playing on his lips. It was as close to a smile as he ever got.

"It almost makes this thing worth going to." She looks down at her sleeves, taking in the buttons at the end that made the pattern even more remarkable.

"Just remember," Heidi, a member of her prep team speaks up as she added a finishing touch to her makeup, "you need to be nice to the Gamemakers, I hear Plutarch will be there."

Stell stays still, waiting till the brush was away from her eyes to speak, "What's so special about him?"

Winford gasps, a hand held to his heart dramatically, "He's the new Head Gamemaker!"

"Good for him." Stell glances at herself one last time in the mirror, still beside herself that she gets to wear pants.

"You best get going." Naboo inclines his head towards the doorway of her room. "Don't want to be late."

"Me?" Stell grins, "Never." She leaves then, her eyes narrowing slightly at the sight of Finnick waiting by the elevator. "I thought you would've left with the boys." The rest of District Four's male Victors had left about ten minutes before, all headed to the President's mansion for the party.

It was the last night of October, a night that's always been celebrated in the Capitol. Stell had been told it used to be a major holiday hundreds of years ago, before the Dark Days. The Day of the Dead, that's what they called it. In typical Capitol style they used it to bring to mind the Games. Every Victor who had ever mentored attended and was shown pictures of the tributes they'd lost in recent years.

To the Capitol citizens, they were being celebrated. To the Victors, it was just another reminder of who was really in charge. "Figured I'd wait for my date." He was already acting.

"Has Mags left?"

"I'll check for her." Stell was already walking towards the older woman's room. She knocks softly twice before pushing the door open a little more, smiling at the sight of Mags and with the only remaining member of her prep team. "Almost ready?" She asks, her voice soft.

"Yes, dear." Mags tells her, turning to Iris, "Thank you." She gives him a genuine smile that he returns easily.

"Always an honor."

Stell offers her arm out to Mags, and she takes it quietly, giving Stell a once over, "You look terrific."

The younger girl kicks her leg out a little, "I get to wear pants!" Mags shakes her head as she laughs, revealing in one of the rare moments when Stell actually seems like the young adult she is, "You look stunning." Stell tells Mags. And she does, in a simple light blue dress that truly brings out her eyes, Mags is the picture of aging grace.

Finnick is still waiting for them by the elevator, and he echoes Stell's words to his mentor right away as he presses the down button. They can hear the murmurs of the crowd gathered in the lobby before the doors even open. The event was always a great opportunity for the press to catch up with Victors. It was more tame though, no overt shouting or cat calling, just simple conversations and pictures.

Most Victors don't even stay at the tower this time of year, so it isn't too crowded. Stell does spot one familiar figure that makes her smirk, "Haymitch!"

Finnick's smiling as well, waving the District Twelve Victor over to their group. He greets Stell first though, a rare smile on his face, "Stellar," Her name is just a bit slurred coming from his mouth, "A pleasure to see you, as always."

He shakes Finnick's hand and kisses the back of Mags', rambling on about how stupid it is that it'll actually be noticed if he doesn't show up to these things now. "And Katniss and Peeta just get to stay home."

"How are the lovebirds?" Finnick asks, a hint of sarcasm to his words, "Have they even left bed once since being home?"

"Nah, never see'em." Stell shakes her head at his response, just happy to see one of the few Victors that she genuinely likes. Once again, Stell figures he was too drunk during her Games to remember them, so the two get along.

It seems as though Caesar Flickerman has made it his own personal mission to find out the story behind Finnick and Stell. He hones in on them as soon as they've arrived outside of the mansion, his hair a bright orange this time to match the occasion. "Stell! Finnick!"

Stell turns while Finnick leans down to whisper a brief goodbye in Mags's ear before passing her off to Haymitch. "Be good." She pats the side of Finnick's face and he just chuckles.

"Always am." He turns back to Stell, who has been busy showing off her outfit to Caesar. The Capitolite's jaw is practically on the floor, but even Finnick has to admit that she looks stunning. "Caesar!" Finnick smiles, his arm snaking around Stell's waist, "Always a pleasure to see my favorite TV host." Caesar shakes his outstretched hand.

"Oh, you're too kind." He glances between the two of them, "But really, we're all just dying to know what's going on between the two of you."

Stell looks up at Finnick, her gaze meeting his, "I go where she does," Finnick says smoothly, "Stell gets what she wants, we've always known that."

"And what is it you want now?"

Stell almost feels bad about playing the question off as a joke, "Right now?" She chuckles, "A drink would be nice, we really should be heading inside."

The two stick closer together than they had been at previous events, mostly speaking with other Victors and the occasional outside Capitolite who somehow gained an invite. They try and ignore the pictures around the room of the children they couldn't save.

Stell recognizes a few from other Districts. Cato, from District Two, and Clove, his partner. She has no doubt that one would've killed the other if they'd been in Katniss and Peeta's positions at the end. Marius, Johanna's District partner from her Games. And Vinny, Cashmere's District partner. His death had been an anomaly, having died in the bloodbath on the first day.

The thought of Cashmere makes her wonder where Gloss is. Stell scans the room, her lips tugging upwards for a moment when she spots him across the room, a bright haired Capitolite woman on his arm. Not caring what the woman will think of Stell interrupting, she starts making her way over. Various people call out to her, which she ignores, having no desire to stop and speak to anyone she doesn't actually know. Until there's the one she cannot ignore, "Stellar." Her name comes smoothly out of President Snow's mouth. She freezes, her shoulders stiffening almost imperceptibly. "It's so good to see you." She turns, plastering a polite grin on her face, "It is rather interesting that you changed your hair."

"Finnick mentioned he liked it better this way." Her words are sharp, too sharp, and she tries to correct her tone as she speaks again, "I thought that'd be acceptable with you."

"Oh, of course." He reaches forward, twirling a piece of it around one of his fingers. "How is Mr. Odair?" She can smell the blood on his breath mixed in with the strong perfume he always wears, "May I say, everyone is rather excited about you two. It's just dragging on for quite a while. The guessing."

"We are rather private people."

"Don't be." He snaps the words at her, his eyes narrowed, "You wouldn't want me to think you're…indifferent towards one another, would you?"

Stell shakes her head, "No."

Snow lets her hair fall from his hand, a sick smile on his face now, "Good, you've always been a smart girl Stellar. Let's keep it that way." He doesn't give her a goodbye, just walks away without another word. Stell's heart feels as though it's beating out of her chest. She abandons her plans to find Gloss, choosing to retreat to a less crowded part of the house.

She's leaning against a wall in the study when Finnick finds her, offering out a hand, "Dance with me." It's not a request and she lets him lead her back to the main room, right to the middle of the makeshift dancefloor. She's used to dancing with him by now, swaying gently to the soft music, his hands on her waist as she rests hers around his shoulders. "You seem worried." He tells her, his lips right by her ear.

"Snow spoke to me."

"I saw," his breath is warm on her cheek, the feeling helping to calm her a little more, "What'd he have to say?"

"He mentioned…" she trails off, instead leaning away just a little bit so she can look up at him.

"What?" Stell presses her lips to his, the move surprising him for just a moment before he returns it. Stell makes sure to keep it short, just long enough for those around them to notice. When she pulls away, he rests his forehead against hers so people can't hear, "We were being too slow?"

"Yeah." She breathes, her heart once again beating a bit too fast for her liking. They dance in silence for the next few songs, Stell still wondering why kissing Finnick would make her heart speed up, when someone clears their throat directly behind her.

"Excuse me?"

"What!?" She snaps as Finnick takes a step away from her, keeping a hold of her hand as they look to the stout man addressing them.

"I was hoping I could steal her for a dance." He's addressing Finnick, offering his arm towards Stell at the same time.

"Plutarch." Finnick seems surprised to see the man, "Congratulations on the promotion. By all means," Finnick moves Stell's arm towards the man, ignoring how she's glaring daggers at him.

"Thank you," Plutarch smiles, "would you believe there weren't many people jumping up at the chance for the job?"

"Shocking." Stell deadpans, not happy at all about her new dance partner.

"I'll be sure to bring her back."

"Oh, take your time, and don't worry." He smirks, "She only bites me." Plutarch's face goes beet red, which even makes Stell crack a grin. Reluctantly, she places her hands on his shoulders.

To Plutarch's credit, he recovers quickly from Finnick's comment. He seems to study her for a minute, his eyes never leaving her face as they gently sway side to side. Stell thinks it's strange, asking to dance with her and not saying a word.

"So, what's your deal?" She finally asks, "Why'd you take the job."

"To win Snow's trust." His words shock her, "We must all seem so cruel to you." He's inches away, so she knows no one else can hear, but still, "Sending children off to slaughter, turning the Victors into slaves."

Her eyes never leaving the new Head Gamemakers. "You get used to it."

"Do you?"

"You have to."

"What about changing it?" Stell steels her features at that, showing no reaction to his words. She watches silently as he reaches into his jacket, pulling out a simple card, "You should come," He tells her, flipping it over so she catches a quick glimpse of the back before slipping the card between the top of her belt and jacket. "It starts at midnight."

"Who else is going?"

Plutarch shrugs, "Friends." He says nonchalantly as the song ends, "I should be going, I need to check in with a few more people before leaving." Stell is left standing there, the card at her hip feeling as though it's burning its way down to her skin. She watches Plutarch disappear into the crowd, her mind still on one thing: the small picture on the back of the card.

A mockingjay.

A/N: Thanks so much for everyone reading. It's weird trying to write Finnick being rude sometimes, but hopefully it's coming off right!