Staring out the window of our hired car, I take in the passing scenery with interest. Unlike the congested streets of the city, this area contains larger homes on bigger pieces of land. Besides the change in size, I'm surprised by the lack of, "Capitolness" of these home. These houses seem to have voided of all the fads and garish colors present in downtown buildings. They instead have large arching windows, facades made from ornately carved stone and steep slate roofs. They're actually quite beautiful.
"Effie, why is this part of town so different than the rest of the Capitol?" I ask, turning my attention back to the chatter of the car. Effie, who is seated primly next to me, smiles broadly, "This area is very, very old and almost exclusively owned by the most prominent families. I've heard rumors that some of these homes are from before the dark days," she tells me conspiratorially.
I glance back out at the passing homes. "Is our event in one of these homes?" I ask, hopeful that we might get a chance to see the inside of one of the massive houses.
"Actually, yes, the Byers family has offered to host the evening," Tova interjects softly. At the sound of her soft voice, I suddenly realize this is the first thing she said since we got in the car 40 minutes ago. For a normally bubbly and outgoing person, it's strange that's she been so quiet. I turn a bit in my seat and look kitty-corner down the long bench to where she sits next to the opposite door. When our eyes meet I offer a friendly smile, she sees my attempt and returns the gesture rather shyly.
"So these people offered to host a big party out of the goodness of their hearts or is it still in fashion to have connections to victors?" Katniss asks, her hostility on the subject clear in her clipped voice. From where she sits directly across from me, I feel the defiance roll off of her in waves.
"Calm down sweetheart, the Byers' are good people," Haymitch cautions, patting her knee. "Their family was part of the rebellion for over a decade."
Katniss considers him for a moment before I see her body relax. I understand her concerns, if not the way she expresses them. The war is over and a new government in place, but the games were different in the Capitol. They were honest to goodness entertainment for most, and a way of life for a few. The idea of waltzing into the home of an uber games fans would be uncomfortable for any tribute. I subtly nudge her foot with mine and offer her a comforting grin. She appears to take a calming breath and returns a small smile as the car pulls to a stop.
Leaning forward, I strain my neck to look out the far window of the car but all I can see is a stretch of massive, rugged, and randomly sized blocks of stone. Once the second car, carrying the rest of our delegation, pulls up behind us. Our driver exits and ceremoniously pulls open the door next to Tova. The car slowly empties as Tova, Effie and Haymitch climb out, leaving Katniss and myself. I glance over at her and spot her nervously bouncing knee. "Outrageously opulent food awaits," I smile, nodding towards the open door. Glancing out the car door, she begins worrying her bottom lip with her teeth but then seems to think better of it and stops and starts wringing her hands. Apparently, my light-hearted quip missed its mark. I'm about to place a hand on her bouncing knee when Gale's face appears in the open door.
"Catnip, your press awaits," he says, tossing her a casual smile.
Katniss visibly swallows and my eyes narrow at him. "That kind of information isn't going to hurry this process along Captain," I inform him evenly. Gale glances over at me, then at Katniss, seemingly trying to decide if I'm right. He must find the evidence he's looking for because he apologizes. "Oh, uh, sorry Katniss, I didn't know the reporters would upset you," he offers lamely.
My eyes roll completely without my volition. "It's not the reports, it's the crowds. This is de'ja vu, tribute style," I mutter, the sound of exasperation clear in my voice.
Katniss catches my eyes and shoots me a glare. "I'm not upset," she says evenly, "I'm just not...excited by the prospect of navigating the crowd." This, of course, is a lie, but Gale seems to be buying it because the words bring a relieved grin to his face. "Well Ms. Everdeen then you're quite lucky I'm here to escort you because it just so happens that I have a very keen sense of direction," he says offering her his hand.
As Katniss's lips quirk up at the statement but I find myself clenching my lips tightly together to keep the unpleasant rebuttals from escaping my mouth. My thoughts are fully focused on maintaining self-control when I hear Katniss calling my name.
"Are you...okay?" she asks her eyes darting over my face and down to my hands. She's looking for signs of a flashback. I force a smile to my lips, "If you're ever wondering about my mental state, you should always choose to sprint for an exit," I tell her. "After all, the last thing I'd want is for you to be trapped in here with him," I say, alluding to the other me, the hijacked me. She tilts her head, clearly exasperated with my non-answer. I give in. "I'm fine," I conceded. "Now, take Gale's offer and go inside," I say gesturing towards Gale with my head.
She looks at me for a long moment before understanding lights behind her eyes. She should go in with Gale to avoid a "star-crossed lovers" sighting. She offers me a slight nod. "I'll meet you at the buffet table," she smirks, taking Gales proffered hand. I recall our banter on the subject earlier this evening and give her a wink of collusion, "I'll avoid the passed hor 'd oeuvres, just in case," I grin. She chuckles but all too soon disappears out the door and into the crowd beyond.
I take a long moment to collect myself and to allow Katniss and Gale time to clear the car. Staring mindlessly through the back windshield, I watch as they make their way through the corridor of reporters. About halfway to the front door, I notice Katniss's fingers begin to clench at Gale's arm and my internal alarm goes off. Having done two years of public appearances with her I know this to be a telltale sign of her rising panic. I grip the edge of my seat and force myself to stay in the car. What seems like an eternity passes before Gale takes note of her tension. He offers her a warm smile and begins rubbing small circles between her shoulder blades. This must be reassuring to her because she noticeably relaxes, that is until Gale makes the mistake of taking things too far. The hand that had been making a circle has slid from its spot between her shoulder blades to come to rest a bit too far south of her lower back to be friendly. She visibly stiffens but he either doesn't notice or is choosing to ignore her, because he carries on towards the door his hand firmly planted on the apex of her rear end. A grunt of indignation escapes my lips and before I can reign it in and almost immediately Haymitch's chuckle fills the car.
In the open car door is the face of my ex-mentor. "Son, it's gonna be a long night, you best get that out of your system right now," he smirks. I glare at him and blow out an irritated breath. "I've got this," I mutter as I slide across the seat towards him. "Oh, you do, do ya?" He laughs, "Because you look pissed off and jealous, so you might what to re-evaluate," he quips, his voice taking on an uncharacteristic timber of sincerity. I want to tell him to leave me the hell alone, but as usual, Haymitch's got a point. I am unhappy with the reappearance of "the Capitan" in Katniss' life and I'm letting my feelings cloud my judgment. This is not to say that I don't have valid reasons for disliking him, but if I'm being honest with myself there is a hint of an old and deeply seeded dislike of him that comes from the competition we used to share for Katniss's affections. A word suddenly flashes amidst my ponderings, Jealous. I immediately dismiss the thought. I currently have the exact relationship with Katniss that I want. She is my closest confidant and I am hers. I no longer doubt her friendship or her loyalty and I find an immense sense of comfort in that fact. Jealous. The word echoes again. I feel my brow furrow.
"So are you gonna wipe the sour look off your face and come in or what?" Haymitch asks, thankfully interpreting my spinning thoughts "Yeah. sure," I mutter swinging my feet out of the vehicle and onto the pavement. Haymitch takes a step back to make room for me on the sidewalk.
I've just extracted myself when Effie, Tova in tow, approaches Haymitch and me in a whirlwind. "We are already behind schedule, don't doddle," she chirps, ushering us along the sidewalk with a flutter of her hands.
Haymitch grunts at her insistence and in one smooth motion plucks one of her flailing appendages from midair and tucks it securely in the crease of his elbow. "Relax woman. They're the guests of honor, it's not like they are going to start without them," he croaks, his voice surprising void of its usual harshness. This piques my interest and I glance at them out of the corner of my eye. Haymitch, on a good day, is gruff, difficult, and surly and he has rarely, at least in my recollection, ever been tolerant of Effie Trinket's eccentricities. For the second time today, his reaction to her has not only been reserved but boarding on patience. I make a mental note to do some recognizance and harass him it about later.
We make our way through the crowd of reporters, seemingly stopping every few steps to smile and wave. The flash of the cameras and call of our names is overwhelming and I feel as if the front entrance is miles away instead of mere few feet. I want to bear hug Effie when she finally announces we are officially late and detangles herself from Haymitch to shoo us inside. A set of wide stone stairs grace the front of the mansion and at the top, an enormous carved door is flanked by doormen. As we ascend one of the uniformed men silently pulls the door open so we can slip seamlessly into the opulent foyer beyond. Inside we are greeted by several maids who are collecting coats and wraps. Effie and Tova are checking their shawls when the area around us suddenly goes silent; all the noise of the reports and photographers trapped beyond the thick wood door. Glancing over my shoulder and raise an eyebrow at Haymitch, "I could use a soundproof door like that to drown out the sound of your damn geese," I tease. Haymitch gives me an unamused grin then turns back to reclaim Effie before directing us further into the house. We step into a hallway and an audible gasp escapes my mouth. The hallway, if that is what you'd call this space, could fit my entire house in Victor's Village in its space. Stunned, I stand mouth agape, taking in the grandeur and magnitude of the space. Across the expanse of hardwood floors and ornate rugs are two mirror-image stairwells, each swooping down to meet in one wide flight that leads to the floor we are standing on. My eyes follow one of the staircases up and round and I find that it slings around to connect to the other, creating a balcony behind us where guests seem to be mingling. The house appears to continue on to both my left and right in a seemingly endless arrangement of rooms.
"Subtle, isn't it?" Haymitch grunts in my ear.
I blink. "This is a home...for one family?" I stammer. "It's the size of a justice building...no bigger!"
Having overheard us, Tova moves in closer to me, so not to be heard by other guests, "It used to be a private residence, for many generations. Now, the family only keeps a small apartment on the grounds and the rest is open to the public for events like this," she offers.
"You'd need to do that just to heat this place," I mutter.
"Well, yes I suppose," she agrees, taking the scope of the room. "It is beautiful though," she sighs.
I nod in agreement. In spite of its grandiose stature, it really is tastefully decorated, and the craftsmanship is breathtaking. I suddenly wonder what Katniss is making of it. My eyes do a quick scan of the crowds for her, but I freeze when I hear my name being bellowed from above me. A small smile spills onto my lips and I quickly glance up at the balcony to find Johanna Mason's petite frame draped seductively along the balcony railing, a wry smile on her lips. I chuckle and hold a finger up to her, indicating she should wait where she is. I turn to my entourage, "I'm going to say hello, I'll meet you inside," I tell them. Effie begins to protest, but Haymitch catches her by her elbow and leads her way with a "Damn woman, let them say hello. This is the 'meet and greet' portion of the evening, right?" She grumbles something that I can't hear and gives me a concerned look as they retreat into the crowd. Effie has changed a lot over the years, but I'm guessing she still doesn't approve of Johanna's manners, which is exactly why Johanna behaves the way she does. I chuckle at the paradox and turn for the stairs.
I was still in the hospital for treatment after the war when she came to say goodbye and informed me of her plans to visit all the districts and live as a nomad. Over the years I've received a few letters and we talked via phone occasionally, but it's been a good six months since I last heard from her. Rounding the staircase, I come to a stop a few feet from her. "So, in all of your travels over the last year, you didn't manage to pick up even the tiniest bit of social etiquette eh?" I quip.
She smirks, tilting her head to one side, "Well as the old adage goes, "You can't teach an old dog new tricks"
I let out a long breath and close the gap to embrace her. I feel her hands slid under my coat to wrap firmly around my back, anchoring us to each other. Placing my chin on top of her head, I close my eyes and enjoy being near her once again.
After a long moment, we both settle back a bit so we can look at each other. The last year has done good things for Johanna. She has regained all the weight she lost at Snow's hand. Her hair has all grown back and is the longest I've ever seen it, which isn't saying much, but the waves of her dark brown bob seem to suit her and softens her face a bit. "You look great Johanna," I tell her sincerely.
"You look tall," she grins.
"Good thing tall is in." I quip.
She shakes her head and gives me another tight hug before letting go of me.
"Last I heard you were in four, did Annie and Finn come with you?" I ask, looking around for the fair redhead.
"Yah, we traveled in together, but Annie started freaking out when we started to get ready to leave. Keep muttering something about the nanny's eyebrows and that she couldn't be trusted with Finny," she says with a roll of her eyes.
"I thought she was doing better," I say feeling my concern rise.
"She is," Johanna says calmly, "It's just being here. She's stressed and when she's stressed she comes apart a bit. She'll be okay in a day or so," she says waving her hand in a dismissive gesture.
I look closely at her, trying to determine if she's honestly unconcerned or just putting on a front. "If she's not, you don't have to hide it," I offer.
She locks her steady eyes with mine, "She's fine," she says evenly, then turns her gaze over the railing and into the crowd mingling below. "I didn't see brainless down there, did she bail?" she asks, but before I could respond she continues with, "Naw, she's here somewhere, bailing after making a long list of demands would be poor form wouldn't it?" she tosses out casually.
I raise an eyebrow at her, "What…how…?" I stammer.
"Like that kind of trick could stay a secret! Don't be so naive Mellark," she scoffs but pats my shoulder sympathetically.
"Who knows exactly, cuz if it's public then..."
"Chill out, I heard about it from a little birdie we both know and he had no desire for the district 12 lovebirds thing to become a public spectacle again," she dismisses.
I narrow my eyes and feel my anger flare. "Gale?" I grunt.
Johanna shrugs off my inquiry and changes the subject. "So where is the Mockingjay?" she asks again, this time more seriously.
I'm still upset at the thought of our private business is being shared as gossip by the one person I can't stand at this event, but I'll have to deal with it later, this is hardly the time and the place. I take a calming breath and focus on the question at hand. "Knowing Katniss as I do, I suspect she's eyeing the buffet table about now," I respond, looking out at the crowd below us.
Resting her forearms on the banister, Johanna joins me in gazing at the milling guests. "I saw your crew when you arrived. Haymitch looks about the same, but you can't really change the look of hammered shit," she cracks.
I give her a disapproving glance that she pretends not to see. "I almost didn't recognize your Escort though. Minus the clown makeup and hair, she looks almost normal."
"War changes everyone, even Effie Trinket," I say quietly.
She doesn't respond, but I see her face shadow over in dark thought. Effie, like us, was imprisoned during the war so we don't have to reach far to imagine what her time was like while in the care of Snow. After a second she shakes her head, and her face returns to its usual level of ambivalence before she continues with, "You know who I didn't recognize was the plum haired beauty chatting you up," she says, turning towards me.
I quirk an eyebrow at her, "You've meet Tova before you left the Capitol…didn't you?" I ask.
She considers the question for a second before drawing out, "The… red-headed nurse?"
I nod, "Volunteer actually, but yes you've got the right person."
"And she's now she's what, a groupie?" she chuckles.
I roll my eyes good-naturedly at her, "She's Effie's assistant and a stylist for our team. She's a friend as well," I smile.
Johanna visibly leans back on her heels at the explanation, a suspicious gleam in her eyes. "Well, well, look at Peeta Mellark - playing the field," she cackles too loudly.
My body goes tense and my first instinct is to clasp a hand over her mouth, but that would only draw more attention so I very calmly and quietly hiss "shhh," at her.
"What? I think all the single ladies here would be thrilled to hear that you're open for some action!"
"It's not like that with Tova and I. Really we're just friends, end of story," I shoot back.
She eyes me for a moment, "Please tell me you're not still hung up on brainless," she says in disbelief.
I'm taken aback by the comment. After my hijacking, anyone who knew us was aware that the relationship with Katniss had been nearly destroyed by the hijacking. My feelings, while I could recall them, didn't resonate with me. I was conditioned to hate and fear her, there was little room for anything else. I've spent the last year working hard to determine whether what is in my head is real or not. Despite all it, Katniss and I have managed to develop a deep, albeit unique, friendship, but there is nothing more than that is between us, anything from before was damaged and overwritten. Or was it? The thought slips in so smoothly I find myself uncharacteristically tongue-tied. I'm still trying to sort it out when Johanna throws her hands in the air in disgust. "Really! Still?" she rallies, clearly taking my lack of response for affirmation of her assumptions.
"Johanna, keep your voice down," I demand, irritated by her outburst. While I'm well aware that Johanna is not one to keep her thoughts to herself, I do take issue with her voicing them in the middle of cocktail hour. "Can we talk about my lack of a love life at another time?" I grumble under my breath.
She levels her sharp hazel eyes at me for a long moment, then huffs. "You...you...Ugh! I need a drink!" she exclaims, exasperated.
Glad for the subject change, I tuck her hand in the crook of my arm and lead her towards the stairs. "I think saw a bar in the west wing," I suggest by way of a peace offering.
"They better have whiskey," she mutters as we weave our way down the stairs and through the crowd. It isn't long, however, before we are waylaid by bevies of well-wishers and folks just wanting to say "hello". Still five hundred feet from our goal, I can feel irritation rolling off Johanna in waves, which is never a good thing in the case of this ex-victor. I glance at her out of the corner of my eye and can actually see her turning red. Pulling her arm in tighter to my body, I pray that she keeps her mouth shut and doesn't start cursing out the woman with red triangle-shaped hair, that is currently telling us in detail, about her first trip outside the Capitol.
It's Effie who saves us, suddenly appearing suddenly at my side like an angel. With her years of experience dealing with sponsors, she makes quick work of gently, but firmly, extracting us from the woman's grasp. Linking her arm in my free one, she deftly guides us through the crowd, waving and calling out to people she knows but stopping for no one.
I glance over at Johanna and find her lips quirked in a pleased smile. "Twelve always did have the best escort," she mutters then adds, "Which was probably the cosmos's way of making up for Haymitch."
Effie laughs; not a subtle chuckle, but a true laugh. I look down at her to find her with a hand over her mouth, trying to keep the sound from traveling. I shake my head at the transformation of my old escort. Two years ago, she would be shooting Johanna with a death glare about her comment regarding Haymitch. It was after all Effie's job to try and keep Haymitch's already tarnished reputation from sinking any further in the eyes of the public. She would have never tolerated such a jab in a public venue. Propping up Haymitch would have been a monumental task, to say the least, perhaps it was that tenacity that kept her alive after her capture, I think.
With Effie's deft guidance, we quickly find ourselves in a beautifully decorated dining room. The room is enormous, with tray ceilings, golden wallpaper, dark mahogany wood floors, and two large and elaborately carved marble fireplaces lit with dozens of white candles. Around the room are tables of various sizes all draped in floor-length navy silk tablecloths and topped wi.h matching candles and neat arrangements of roses and spring flowers. The lighting is low and mixes with the golden sparkle of candlelight. The overall effect is calming and intimate. I mentally give props to the party designer for the tone they set, I start to relax.
Effie leads us over to a table in the back corner where we find Haymitch, Tova, and Thom in casual conversation. Standing along the nearby wall I spot Gale and a soldier named Timmons who we meet earlier at the hotel. Both are standing at attention, eyes scanning the crowd. I'm taken aback for a moment having forgotten in the rush of the evening that Gale present here is in a working capacity.
Johanna rounds the table and plucks an unceremonious hand down on Haymitch's shoulder. "I need whiskey and blondie here couldn't deliver," she says tossing her head in my direction. Haymitch chuckles and sets down his still half-full glass of amber liquor on the table before standing. "Let me take you over and introduce you to Atlas the bartender then," he says. Without further ado, Haymitch puts a guiding hand on Johanna's back, and as the pair disappears out the door at the far end of the dining room. My thoughts float to Katniss and my eyes start scanning the room. "Effie, where's Katniss?" I ask.
"Katniss and Mrs. Kensington are doing a little exploring," Tova informs me.
Placing my hands on the back of one of the plush chairs, I let my fingers play along the cream-colored velvet while I consider going off to locate her. If I were at home, in the privacy of Twelve, this wouldn't even be a question, but that isn't the case here. Once again, the Capitol focuses us to play a role, having us hide who we really are. It's ironic to me how the tables have turned. Two years ago, we were pretending to be madly in love and now we are pretending to be distant friends. Apparently, fate has decided that striking a happy medium is impossible. Chewing on my lip, I ponder my options before deciding that a group of us together should dissuade idle gossip. Glancing between Tova and Thom I ask, "I think I'll do a little exploring of my own, would you two care to join me?"
"I would love nothing more than to join you in locating my new bride, but I have some networking to do. Ms. Trinket has graciously agreed to introduce me to a few of the other District leaders," Thom explains. "But, would you do me a favor and keep an eye out for Becca, this whole event is a bit overwhelming," he says, his eyes skirting around the grand room.
"Of course. I would never dream of leaving a newbie alone to likes of a Capitol event," I promise.
"Thanks, man," Thom says getting to his feet.
I turn to Tova, "Are you going to ditch me for delegates too?" I tease.
"I wouldn't dream of it," she smiles slipping a hand into the crook of my arm.
Forever punctual, Effie glances down at a delicate wrist watch then up at me. "We have about thirty minutes until they ring the bell for dinner. Let's regroup here when it sounds," she suggests.
With promises to return promptly, I turn Tova towards the exit and head out into the den of party-goers. As we start making our way through the crowd, I see faces turning towards us, eyes alight with recognition. "I hope Effie's educated you on how to avoid small talk, because I totally failed in getting Johanna through this crowd," I admit to Tova in a low voice.
A soft chuckle comes from the petite woman on my arm, "The key is to make eye contact, smile, but keep moving with intent. If you hesitate at all, well it will be like vultures on week-old road kill," she tells me.
"Lovely imagery," I mutter unconvinced.
"Just take my lead," she sighs theatrically.
Taking a right out of the dining room, we meander our way through the other guests. Keeping one eye on Tova, I mimic her actions and find that her tactic is surprisingly successful. People smile, wave, even give a cursory hello, but we are not stopped.
After one loop around gathering, Tova tsks. "Well, I don't see Katniss or Becca out here, perhaps we should try in where the music is coming from," she recommends.
With one final glance around, we make our way to the end of the hall. Passing through the large doorway, we find ourselves in a conservatory. The room is enormous. With a high arching glass ceiling and walls covered in art, the room was defiantly designed to impress. In the left corner furthest from us, a stage has been set up and a group of musicians is playing and singing an unfamiliar melody. I watch the band for a moment, taking in their sound and lyrics. "This music-it's different. Defiantly nothing like the music that usually comes out of the Capitol."
Tova nods in agreement.
So I won't expect a postcard from Trafalgar Square
But I'd be lying if I said I didn't care
Because you can't just turn it off
And put a blindfold on your heart
But I'm off to a good start
We're a continent away, but I do not know, oh no
Because love is different than you'd think
It's never in a song or on a TV screen
And love is harder than a word
Said at the right time and everything's alright
I said love is different than you'd think
"Trafalgar Square, where is that?" I ask, my attention grabbed by the rhythmic strum of the guitars. She shrugs, "Somewhere far away from here and in another time," she responds wistfully. I cock my head at her answer and she smiles, a dreamlike look in her eyes. "These songs aren't new, they're actually very, very old," she explains. "After the rebellion, old recordings that had been hidden away by Capitol families for generations started surfacing and as you can see," she says gesturing to the band, "it's become quite the trend. Nearly all of the songs go back to before the great war," she tells me reverently.
"Wow, I have to say I'm a bit surprised, I wouldn't think Captiolites would break the law for something as simple as a few music recordings. I mean, that kind of thing happened in the districts, but here?"
"Ah, yes, but you forget, Capitol citizens really like to own unique items, so hoarding something they knew others wouldn't have is pretty much on-brand for them," she points out.
I consider this and nod, "Either way I glad for it, I've never been very fond of Capitol music," I drawl out, but my focus to the song begins to fade as my thoughts return to the task at hand. Turning my eyes back to the crowd, I go back to scanning the room for a familiar brunette.
Tova shifts closer to me and continues in a conspiratorial tone, "It's not just music either. There are books, art, movies, all kinds of wonderful things popping up," she says enthusiastically.
I reluctantly pull my eyes from my search to look down at her. Her green eyes are sparkling with excitement, which I find to be not only kinda adorable, but her enthusiasm is catchy as well. "Really? So, where do you find this stuff? The black market?" I ask., genuinely curious now.
She shakes her head, "No…well maybe some, but most of it is being made available digitally," she tells me. "The books are amazing," she says dreamily, "I like the ones about history the best," she smiles.
"History books not made by the Capitol! How haven't I heard about this?" I ask, completely surprised. I only ever heard bits and pieces of hearsay about life before the great war and the idea of reading something not constructed by Capitol leadership sends a jolt of excitement through me.
She lifts her shoulders in a shrug. "Probably because this trend is pretty new. It really just hit the mainstream about a month ago. I've known about it a bit longer since Jeromy has a friend who is a large collector of…well just about everything," she laughs, clearly fond of this friend. "You should come over to our loft on Sunday, between Jeromy and I, we have an embarrassingly large collection of "histories", that's what we call them," she gushes.
"I would need to check..." I begin but I'm cut short by the soft lilt of Becca drawl from behind me. "Peeta Mellark! We've been looking all over for you!" her bubbly voice calls out from behind me.
Letting go of Tova's arm, I spin on my heels to find Becca with her hands on her hips, Katniss just behind her. My eyes instinctively go to evaluate Katniss's demeanor. I find her with a look of annoyed confusion on her features as she peers across the room. I take a quick peek over to see what she's staring at and instantly have to tap down a laugh. About 500 meters from us I spot a Capitol woman with bright yellow hair that has been formed into the shape of a birdcage with houses within it a Mockingjay, a fake one thank goodness. It is a ridiculous hairstyle, and based on the other people in attendance, "old fashioned". While most Capitol women still sport unnatural hair colors, the styles are much more subdued than they have been in the past. As I'm still taking in the monstrosity on the women's head, the owner suddenly turns in my direction and I nearly trip over my own feet turning away before getting caught in her line of sight.
"You better hope she didn't spot you looking at her," Katniss whispers as she sidles up next to me, "because if I have to try to make serious conversation with that bird looking back at me, I will not let you live it down," she chuckles softly.
I smirk and peek over my shoulder and let out an audible sigh when I spot another group of partygoers stopping to speak with the woman in question. "I think we're off the hook but we should probably relocate," I whisper conspiratorially.
"Perhaps the bar, I could use a stiff drink," she mutters looking around at the loud crowd surrounding us.
"Ahem," Becca clears her throat loudly.
In unison, Katniss and I look up and Becca laughs. "What are you two whispering about?" she asks suggestively. "I know the Mockingjay wouldn't be keepin' secrets," she adds with a wink.
The code word "Mockingjay" was dreamed up on our train ride to the Capitol as a way for close friends to let Katniss and I know when we are acting in a way that could be misinterpreted by the masses as more than the friendship status we share. Quickly I do an inventory of the past few minutes and find that perhaps Katniss and I are standing a bit close. Add to that the secretive whispering and I can see why Becca dropped the code word. I mentally groan. How the hell am I going to pull this off? I wonder, taking a half step to my left. I see Katniss gauging my retreat out of the corner of her eye and I add the word coward to my list of current shortcomings.
Tova, who is not in on the code word game, glances between the three of us and raises an eyebrow. "Am I missing something?" she asks suspiciously.
Katniss clears her throat. "Actually, we were just discussing the bar," she says in way of transitioning the conversation away from Tova's probing question.
Tova's green eyes track Katniss for a second then lock with mine. She's not buying it, but she's classy and chooses not call us out either. "I've heard through the grapevine that there's a signature cocktail for this event. It's supposed to be amazing, shall we make our way to bar area?" she suggests. I'm gratefully for her discretion and make a mental note to bring her update about the code word thing later.
Becca grabs my arm and tugs me in close to her, "Earlier I was nearly trampled by a woman the color and shape of a pine tree, will you be a dear and keep me safe until I can find my husband?" she asks playing up her natural District 12 drawl and batting her eyelashes playfully at me. I chuckle but securely tuck her arm into mine.
"Trampled, my goodness, how harrowing," I drawl in return.
"Nearly trampled," she clarifies through a smile.
"Alright ladies, shall we?" I ask, gesturing for Katniss and Tova to take the lead. Without further ado, the two women begin winding their way through the crowd. About halfway to the drink station, Haymitch and Johanna appear, fresh glasses in each of their hands.
Johanna saunters up to Katniss and tosses an arm around her shoulders. "So how are you liking the first trip to Capitol in which you aren't here to kill people or to be celebrated for killing people?" Johanna asks with not so much as a 'hello, how ya been' to start.
Katniss shrugs the older victor's arm off her shoulder and glances at her sidelong for a moment before responding with, "The nights not over yet, now is it?" she answers dryly.
Johanna laughs. "Touché," she says raising a glass to her in a salute. "So, where are we heading?" she asks, making it clear she's joining our entourage. "On your way over to see that sweet honey of cousin of yours? I was hoping to say hello," she says wiggling her eyebrows suggestively.
Katniss doesn't filch as the insinuation, she's known Johanna long enough to not be rattled by her crassness any longer. "We're finding some of the guests at this party to be a bit much to handle sober," she says eyeing Johanna expectantly, "so we're heading to bar, and look, it's like they were expecting us," she adds guesting to relatively empty bar area we have arrived at.
Johanna cackles and tosses her arm over Katniss again, "I've missed ya brainless," she smiles, "let me order you a drink," she offers as she waves to get the bartenders attention.
Haymitch, who has been observing the interaction in silent amusement, suddenly steps up and grabs Johanna's arm. "Oh no you don't, I don't want the lightweight princess here puking all over the table at dinner," he says. Katniss scoffs and opens her mouth to undoubtedly disagree with him or remind him she isn't a child but quickly shuts it when Haymitch pins her with an amused but knowing look. Turning to the bartender he orders, "Give me that blue drink everyone's carrying around and make it light on the liquor, heavy on the mixers."
"Okay, one Witches Brew coming up," the bartender says.
The name of the drink sends Johanna into a fit of laughter causing the bartender to give her a perplexed look before turning to the rest of us for our orders.
We're waiting for our drinks to be concocted when the lights dim slightly and an airy tinkle of a bell comes over the PA system.
"And that will be our cue," I tell the group. Haymitch lifts an eyebrow in question so I continue with, "Effie asked us to return to the table when the dinner bell rang."
Haymitch nods and turns back to the bartender, "I don't feel like having whine with my dinner, hurry those drinks up won't ya?" he grumbles.
I feel a smirk threatening my face, but I push it down. "Since when does Effie Trinket scare you into submission?" I tease.
"Not wanting to listen to that woman complain for the rest of night is not submission, it's self-preservation," he grunts as the bartender lines the bar with our orders. Tossing the man a nod, Haymitch distributes the drinks to our party. "Shall we?" he asks, gesturing towards the dining room. I study him closely, looking for hints in his expression that might clarify the odd "Effie" vibes I've been getting from him since we arrived in town, but his face is impassable. Tilting my head and raising an eyebrow, I give him a look that lets him know I'm not buying his attempt to deflect me, but say nothing. He just snorts and shoves me in the direction of the rest of the group that has begun to migrate back towards the dining room. I laugh at him but start making my way through the crowd.
Becca looks up at me, her eye twinkling. "You havin' a good time?" she asks, taking my offered arm. I glance back at Haymitch's grumpy face, snigger again, then down at her upturned face and seriously consider the question. In spite of the Capitol-like trappings of this event, I'm actually relaxed and laughing freely. In the weeks leading up to this trip, I've been concerned that upon getting here I would unable to separate the past from the present but my expected turmoil is nowhere in sight. I am having a good time, and although it feels foreign in these surroundings, I decided to go with it. "Yeah, strangely enough, I am," I smile, then give her arm a tug. "Now let's go feast. After all, if there is one thing the Capitol does well, it's food."