Head Gamemaker's Office

March 1st, Year 118 ADD

"No, all I'm saying is that I'm personally offended that you didn't ask me to be your fake date." Taiga quipped, not even bothering to look up from her keyboard as Azriel gaped at her, slightly taken aback at his inability to hold absolutely anything over this woman.

"I- what- listen, I just- okay, no. You can't just change the topic like that, I'm not going to let you avoid this." She gave him no response, just quirking her right eyebrow up a bit in amusement. "Okay, fine, I'm not going to let you avoid it this time. I'm serious, Tai, another month or two and I'll be under fire for this as well." She had the decency to look a bit guilty at that, but quickly dropped back into a nonchalant half-smirk.

"You know, Mr. High-and-Mighty, you could just do it yourself if you're gonna get your panties all in a twist over it." Azriel finally reached over and shut her laptop, almost catching her fingertips in it, before snatching her paper cup of coffee out of reach and crossing his arms expectantly.

"No, I can't, because you'll have them all fired again the minute I turn my back." Annoyed, she grabbed at the coffee, but he pulled it away, just out of her reach. "Come on, T. I just need you to hire anyone. Literally anyone with any semblance of qualifications, at all. Just write down ten names- honestly, at this point, even five names would be better than nothing- and I will leave you alone." Taiga pushed out of her chair, rising to her full height as she leaned across the desk towards him, blazing blue eyes boring into his warm, brown ones. Even standing nearly a full foot shorter than him, eight years his junior, and technically his inferior, Azriel could never quite get past how damn intimidating his Head Gamemaker was, and he had to consciously stop himself from taking a step back.

"I told you no six months ago, and I am telling you no now. I can do this myself, Azriel. I don't need a dozen arthritic traditionalists in my cortex trying to tell me how to do my job."

"Then go to the damn universities if you have to and find someone younger! I don't care how you do it, I just need five to ten warm bodies standing in my office by ten o'clock on Monday, clear?" He reigned his tone back into check, sighing and pinching the bridge of his nose. "Please, T. We've lost enough sponsors as it is." He barely caught her solemn nod before she sprung towards him, grasping for the coffee; for someone who engineered the deaths of teenagers for a living, he was always surprised at how uncomfortable Taiga was with having a remotely deep or serious conversation.

Relaxed by her assent, however, he grinned and spun away, holding the coffee high above her head as she vaulted for it. He was careful to pull the blinds over her office door as he ducked to avoid a flying blueprint; he shuddered to think what sort of looks he would get if any of the elder members of his parliament caught a glimpse of the President and Head Gamemaker playing a childish game of keep-away.

District One Training Academy

May 19th, Year 118 ADD

The trainees of District One were expertly conditioned to notice absolutely everything in their surroundings, but every single one of them, with the exception of only the very youngest, tuned out the two figures enshadowed above them, leaning against the railing of the balcony which overlooked the main sparring gym, two sets of eyes tracking across the room, filtering every piece of information through an initial assessment. In fact, Kjell Vandenburg and Eadlynn Rorschak had barely moved a muscle in hours, except to compare notes on the academy's finest who faced off below them.

"I get the feeling you're thinking exactly what I am," Kjell muttered to the woman beside him as two 18-year-old boys stepped off of the mats, grabbing towels and water bottles as they trudged back to the bleachers to join their peers, "the Lacroix boy? As far as I can see, he doesn't have an ounce of brain in his thick skull, but he hasn't lost a match all day; he's a shoe-in." Eadlynn let out a sharp, incredulous laugh beside him, shaking her head even as she continued to watch the action down below.

"You're kidding, right? If you think he's legitimately that stupid you haven't been paying attention. It's a strategy, dumbass. The kid's playing an angle."

"If that's a bet you're willing to take, then you can have him, but don't come crying to me when you realize he can't put two and two together. And don't call me a dumbass. You'd be dead right now if it weren't for me." She rolled her eyes at the older man.

"You may have been my mentor, Kjell, but you didn't teach me to swing a sword. Don't take credit for other people's accomplishments, it makes you sound like an asshole." He shot her a glare and she smirked wryly in response. "You're right, I should have been more specific. It makes you sound even more like an asshole."

A growl rose in Kjell's throat as he turned to fire back a retort, but both mentors sunk back into a vaguely companionable, if still tense, silence as the girls' division approached the sparring platform, pulling the victors' attention to the task at hand yet again. For another hour, the silence stretched, only their pupils moving as they followed the action with rapt attention. This time, Eadlynn was the first to break it.

"It's going to be Fantazes; you know that, right? You can't stop them from picking her."

"I know."

"The problem is, I don't know who'll want her. Avi certainly won't after last year…" She dropped her head into her hands with a drawn-out sigh; her least favorite part of being assigned to scout the trainees was bringing news back to the other victors that wouldn't be especially well-received. If nobody wanted to mentor this girl… she wasn't sure there was even a protocol for that.

"I'll take her." Kjell's voice was quiet, barely more than a whisper, but it was enough to make Eadlynn's head whip up toward him, shocked.

"You?"

"Yeah. Me. I'll take Fantazes," he said, more confidently this time, his eyes never straying from the teenagers fighting on the mats below. Evidently, he saw something in Aoife Fantazes that his fellow victors could not; he would simply have to prove them wrong.

A/N: wagwan, my b*tcoin? It's Mae here, with a random, out-of-the-blue, semi-concussed update for you! This chapter, we got to meet our President, Head Gamemaker, and District One Mentors, along with some sneak peeks of our D1 tributes as a treat.

I hope you liked it. If you didn't, tell me why, and feel free to do so aggressively; destructive criticism is my jam.