night before the games: control

I'm well-acquainted with villains that live in my head;
They beg me to write them, so they'll never die when I'm dead.

argenta brandt, district five female

…

Argenta's starting to feel like the world is against her.

First, she gets stuck in the Hunger Games. Not a big deal, 'least not so far as she's concerned - Argenta Brandt is more than cut out for death-dealing, and the Ring trained her damn good. She can win if she really wants to; even though she's the youngest kid that's here… and the shortest, and the smallest. She's got skills. She can reap panic and havoc and destruction, and do a bang-up job of it too. She's a contender.

But…

She's also a fall-girl. And that's the actual problem; not that she's been stuck in the Hunger Games, but that she's quite literally stuck in them, no matter if she dies or lives. Because regardless of how she plays her way through the arena - regardless of how many kills she's able to rack up, or how entertaining she can make them seem - once she hits the finish, she doesn't have anywhere to go. She got voted in because she killed Parker, because the kid Five wanted to hurt wasn't around anymore to suffer, and Argenta was the next best thing. Fact of the matter is that even if she gets home, there's nobody that's gonna want her there; Bruin can't cover her ass when the mayor's desperate to see her dead, no more than he already has. Now that the Capitol's pissed off at her, things are starting to look even worse. Her options are limited. Friends are gonna be in short supply.

Five doesn't want her. The Capitol doesn't either. And it's not even 'cuz they think she's incapable, or too weak to cause some damage. No, it's because she's got an "attitude," and that's apparently a problem when you're a tribute. Elowyn Eiken, Merrick Aldaine - they'd been sassy shits too, and look where it got them. Skin ripped off, missing body parts… Argenta'd had a fun time watching 'em die, but she's not keen to be in their position. She'd much rather be a Padma than a Merrick.

Zen seems to think differently, though.

Argenta's not sure whether it's bravery or idiocy. Her District partner's not a rebel in the traditional sense - they've spent enough time talking for her to realize that - but he plays the part quite well, enough that Argenta would be convinced he's the real thing if she didn't actually know better. He's charismatic; he knows how to taunt and how to levy an insult, how to weaponize ideas like hope and fear in a way that's almost inspirational.

Argenta's not going to say she admires him. Even for all his good traits, Velezen's hardly awe-inspiring enough to be on the same level as Bruin. But there's something about his flippancy… something about how he talks, how he provokes and needles and chides others into reconsidering their perspectives and questioning their actions… that she's started to internalize. Zen likes talking out his ass almost as much as Tal, but when he says something, Argenta wants to listen, even when it's nothing more than a bad joke or a harried insult at her own temper or stature. He's thrilling. Fun to be around, fun to mess with.

Argenta likes him, and that scares her.

Rebels don't win the Hunger Games. Rebels get tortured, beaten and slaughtered. The Capitol makes a spectacle of tearing them down, and their deaths almost always get drawn out - for political purposes as much as entertainment, though admittedly, the reasoning doesn't really matter to Argenta. They struggle and they fight and they lose, and while there's probably something to be said about injustice in all that, Argenta's never failed to enjoy it. She's the sort who's always preferred to root for the villains, cheering over blood and slaughter in whatever form it may appear. But now that the tables have turned… now that she's allied with a "rebel" herself…

She's starting to reevaluate things.

That doesn't mean much, to be fair; it's not like Argenta's decided to do a one-eighty and take up arms against the government or anything like that. The Capitol still sucks, but the Underground is just as full of jack, and she's got zero interest in trying to pander to their dumb values. But…

There's a certain charm to be found in pissing off the Capitol. A certain satisfaction to be had in rattling them so thoroughly that they're willing to actively pin a target on your back and call you a problem, satisfaction that Argenta's been missing for awhile. She's not a rebel, but she enjoys the rebel's gambit - Velezen's gambit. Even if the path she's heading down is practically suicidal, Argenta's too invested to pull back now.

They're in this together. As a team. United against the Capitol and against their District, the cesspool of banality that Argenta spent years trying to escape. She's still bitter about getting reaped, but the reaping is the thing that gave her an out; an out she'd have been brainless not to take. As much as she wants to win, she's not sure she'd like all of the baggage that comes with being a Victor. She's never liked having to bow and cowtow to quote-unquote "authority," never been good at following rules or bending to the whims of others.

It's time she started looking after herself. Doing what she wants, where she wants, when she wants - and the consequences be damned.

Bruin's got her respect 'cuz he's family, and he gave his own time to teaching and training her, forging her into the deadly instrument of pain that she was always meant to be. She loves him and she's grateful to him for everything he's done. But he's not going into the Games with her. He's not here to give her advice or encourage how she navigates the coming bloodshed, he's back in Five like everyone else, trusting her to make a statement befitting of her position, befitting of the Ring's influence. And she's going to do that! She'll make the right statement at the right time, just like her mentor's intended. But for now…

Velezen is her ally.

Velezen is the one she's heading into the Games with, the one she's going to be fighting beside for the next however-many days. He's the one she needs to impress, the one that's counting on her to start tomorrow being brutal and vicious. Whether Argenta likes it or not, their fates will be tied from here on out. Against the Capitol. Against the world.

Against the Gamemakers, too.

Even if their interference has been limited by the frequent Capitol intervention, Argenta has no doubt that the GM's are going to try and kill them. They've caused too many problems, talked too much shit. Even Tal Velasquez thought as much, evident with how she'd tried to grill Argenta during the interviews, chiding her about her twelve and the "outburst" she'd made at the reapings. Every second she spent on that stage was tinged with tension, the Master of Ceremonies making constant quips about how fanatical and crazy she thought Argenta was, how disappointed her parents must be in her (like she cared) and how much his District wanted her gone (really, who could blame them?) All the while, there had been nothing but vitriol radiating from amidst the audience, stifling her as she sat there, scuffing her shoes on the floor to mask the anger she felt at Tal's words, her own venom mounting and mounting 'til it had no choice but to boil over.

You're not worth the dirt it'd take to bury you in, Argenta had finally said, looking the woman dead in the eyes as she finally shut her mouth, finally putting an end to her tirade of dullness. Hey, answer me this, d'you always talk so fuckin' much? Cause you make a lotta noise for someone who always says nothing.

Tal's glare had been severe enough that Argenta wondered if she had a headache. She'd tried to reply, but whatever words were on her lips weren't important enough to really hear, and Argenta had said as much with no subtlety whatsoever.

(Is this really the hill you want to die on? She remembers hearing the Capitolite question. What would your parents and your District and your lovely Bruin think of your behavior, Argenta? Mouthing off like a little brat with no care for what you say or do. Don't you think they'd be disappointed? Don't you think they'd be ashamed?)

(I think your dad should be ashamed for not pulling out, she'd replied without missing a beat, smiling like an imp all the while. I mean, really, if he had? Would've saved everyone a lot of headaches.)

She hadn't been surprised when Tal ended her time early, hadn't been surprised to get dragged off as soon as she reached the backstage, a firm hand around her skinny wrist tugging her along with no care as to her wellbeing. They'd thrown her down in a metal chair, her back against her District partner's, the warmth of his body behind hers oddly reassuring as her hand was cuffed to the metal leg, cool steel biting into her dark flesh.

"What'd you tell them?" He had asked her, and Argenta smirked, impossibly pleased with her own performance, regardless of the consequences she'd wrought from it.

"Nothin' really. Just that Tal's mom shoulda swallowed her," she recalls giggling as Velezen cracked a smile, his shoulder nudging hers in silent approval, ever supportive of her antics. "You?"

"Said if she was gonna be two-faced, the least she could do was make one of them pretty," he responded with a little snort. "I swear if I spent any longer out there, my brain cells would've started committing suicide."

A smile curled her lips. The cuff on her wrist had rattled as she reached back, her hand finding Velezen's wrist with little effort. Extending her fingers, she'd traced patterns across his chilled flesh, speaking of solidarity without saying a word.

(She had been surprised when his head had turned. She had been surprised, to hear the sound of Zen's hand rattling against its restraint, just as she'd been surprised when it grabbed hold of her own, the touch unfamiliar, unwanted, but not necessarily undesirable. Argenta's parents never held her. Even Bruin was reluctant to touch her, unless it was under the guise of training, guided contact which ended in pain, never camaraderie, never closeness…)

"I didn't know you still had any to lose," Argenta mused. Zen laughed, the tremble of hilarity sending a shudder down his body.

"You're one to talk," he'd snarked right back, and Argenta had wondered if that was how it felt, having a friend, having connection.

(She isn't used to camaraderie. Isn't used to being validated, feeling wanted. Back in Five, she was always too violent, too caustic, too brutal for anyone to care for, a child that acted more like a feral dog than a human. She was raised on the taste of blood, grew to love it because it was better than neglect, better than being sidelined and forgotten, better than being normal, even though normal was all her parents ever wanted.)

The touch had lingered when they went back to the suite. It lingered when the Peacekeepers ushered them to their rooms, shut them inside and barred the doors, like a flame dancing on the tips of her fingers, warm and tingling and so full of happiness she had no way to explain.

Argenta hadn't known what to do with the feeling, but she'd let it persist, cherished it even as she slipped into bed. Only once it faded did she dare to sit up, reaching down to the floor for her spool of wire, as pristine as it had been back on the train. She'd stared at it, holding it between her hands as the knocking started behind the wall, Velezen's voice barely audible through the barrier of their walls, pitched low and conspiratorial as he spoke of their plans. Her fingers had taken hold of a frayed end and tugged it loose, letting the wire unravel further, further, further still.

I'm glad it's you going in with me, pipsqueak, Velezen says.

(I'm glad it's you I'll be dying with, Argenta hears.)

"We're gonna get 'em before they get us," she whispers, wrapping a section of wire around two of her fingers, twining it tight before pulling it hard enough to break. "Lots of gore, I'm thinkin' a full shower of it. They won't even see it coming, but we're gonna make it rain red and we'll dance in their fuckin' guts, just like we agreed."

"You know, I love it when you talk demented," she makes out from behind the wood and plaster, Zen's words accompanied as always by a hint of laughter. "Really puts a smile on my face."

Mine too, Argenta thinks with a giggle, but she doesn't respond as she begins to spin the first little wire into an orb, small and secret but with enough weight to kill a hit.

In the end, the weight's the only part that matters, and theirs is gonna be good.

Enough to make an impact.

Enough to blow their naysayers away.

kellen akos, district two male

…

It's nearly midnight when Kellen decides to pay District One a visit, the halls of the training centre blanketed by silence. In the quiet of the dim-lit hall, the knock he raps against their suite door is loud enough to sound like cacophony, rattling inside his skull. Much to his surprise, it only takes a moment for someone to answer the door - a lithe, olive-skinned woman with rich dark hair cascading down her back, and a scar shorn through the side of her face.

"Can I help you?" She asks, and with the sound of her voice, her identity becomes unmistakable. Ambrosia Salazar, Victor of the Twenty-Third. Kellen gives her an appreciative nod, and a disarming smile, figuring it's not a bad idea to appear respectful to Elysia's mentor - given Stone hates his guts, they'll need to have assistance somewhere.

"Yeah. Is Elysia awake? Was hoping to have a talk with her before the Games tomorrow."

Ambrosia pulls the door open and ushers him into the suite. "She's the door on the far right. You can check."

"Thanks," Kellen says, and if it's a bit sincere, Ambrosia doesn't seem to care. She waves him in and slips off toward the kitchen, leaving him to wrestle with the culmination of his half-formed plan… and the business with which he's hoping to attend.

(Kellen's not a fan of Elysia. Not really. She's stiff, dry, coarse, demanding, and seems to live to undermine other people. But he's not going to deny that she's a useful ally - one of the most useful he could ask for, really, knowing her background and training. With Ailith being so cagey and the way Six and Nine are fucking around with everyone (that they had tried to proposition Kellen was both infuriating and asinine to a degree he can't describe), he's become well aware that this alliance he's gotten stuck in is primed for self-destruction.

But if hanging around Vaclav and the street gangs in two taught him anything, it's that destruction promotes opportunity. And it just so happens Elysia might be his best chance to capitalize on their pack's damnation.)

He knocks, once-twice-thrice, then stops.

Ten seconds pass, then twenty.

When the door swings open to reveal his ally, in all her spiteful, stress-addled glory, Kellen can scarcely conceal his satisfaction.

"What do you want?" Elysia snaps, the sneer on her face seeping over into her voice. "If this is about what happened with Ailith-"

"It's not," he interjects, cutting Elysia off before she can make assumptions. "Actually, I should probably clarify. It is about Ailith, but not because of your little altercation. Suffice it to say that wasn't even on my radar until you mentioned it before the interviews."

His ally shifts, her hand sliding off from the door handle as she takes a step backward. Kellen can see her jaw visibly shift, tension seeping out of her shoulders. "Oh."

"Yeah, 'oh.'" He rolls his eyes. "You gonna let me in, or should we take this outside?"

Elysia raises her eyes to search his face. Her mouth fixes into a firm line as she appraises him, regarding his features with thinly veiled suspicion. After a few seconds she nods and tugs open the door, stepping back into the darkness of her assigned room.

"Fine. You have twenty minutes."

"Only twenty?" Kellen asks, lifting an eyebrow.

"Yeah, twenty. I figure I could use some good sleep before the Games actually start." She crosses her arms. "Is that a problem?"

"Would it matter if it was?" Kellen grumbles, not bothering to wait for an answer on a rhetorical question. His feet cross the threshold of the One girl's room, and he takes his time to turn and close the door quietly behind him, keeping his hand firm around the handle for a second longer. The moment of silence doesn't yield any sounds, nor any signal that Elysia's mentor is listening in, so it's probably safe to say they won't be bothered.

Good.

Seems he's got the pack leader as his captive audience.

"I know how obstinate you can be, so I'll keep this brief," he begins, turning to lean against the door with crossed arms, posture far more relaxed than that of his ally. Elysia's mouth opens slightly - likely to protest being called obstinate - but she closes it shortly after, seeming to realize that rising to the bait would only prove Kellen's point. A slight smile curls his lips. 'Least she knows when to stop arguing. "We both know Ailith's hiding something - that's not even in dispute. My question, though, is this: how do you plan to deal with it?"

"Deal with what, Ailith?" Elysia asks, tapping her fingers against her bicep. "Or her secret?"

"Either or," Kellen shrugs his right shoulder. "Deal with one and you deal with the other, at least to some degree."

Elysia's lip curls. "I have a question of my own. Why does it matter?"

"So you don't have a plan," Kellen nods his head, running his tongue across his lower lip. "Well, I can't say I'm surprised. You were awfully quick to start making amends..."

"That's because I need her to trust me," Elysia explains. She turns her head away, focusing her gaze on one of the walls before huffing and throwing her hands up. When Kellen doesn't react, she pushes her hair back from her face in a rush, a touch of nervousness seeping into her aura. "Listen, I want this pack to function as a defense net for as long as it possibly can. That's a hell of a lot easier to do if Ailith isn't holding a grudge."

"Is it?" Kellen questions. "Because in my experience, allowing threats more room to grow is pretty much a recipe for disaster."

Elysia's head snaps up. She turns back to him, eyes narrowed, gaze sharpened immensely. "So you think she's a threat?"

"I know she's a threat," Kellen answers, giving a dry laugh to show her just how ridiculous he finds the question. "A rebel who's put herself on the Capitol's radar enough for the Gamemakers to target her isn't someone we need to get involved with. So either you cut her loose, or we make a plan to deal with the problem she poses. Right here, right now."

"Didn't know you had such a problem with her.'' Elysia remarks blithely, shrugging her shoulders as Kellen takes another step forward. The muscles in her arms tighten as her shoulders start to tense, but to her credit she doesn't move, even when he's a mere two feet away. "I mean, you stuck together all through training, even during the spars... left early for lunches, took the same breaks… spent enough time whispering I figured you two were all buddy-buddy."

The One girl tilts her head up, her glare burning a hole into Kellen's skull. "Actually, hold on a minute. Did she put you up to this? Is that why you're here?"

"No," he answers sternly, anger beginning to bubble in his veins. "And if I wanted to work with Ailith, I'd be up in the suite consoling her after that shitshow interview. Not down here talking to you."

"Oh, but of course!" Elysia exclaims. "Because I'm just going to believe that! How do I know you're not lying?"

"You don't. All you can go on is my word."

"That's asking me to put a lot in good faith."

"Not as much as you might think."

There's a pause. Kellen smirks as he takes another step forward, clapping Elysia on the shoulder before he leans in. His voice drops to a whisper as he stares her in the eye, not backing down even as she gives him a look strong enough to wither flowers.

"All I can say is this: other than me, you're the strongest one of the pack. So I'd rather take my chances with you than with a loose cannon."

"Big words coming from your sort," Elysia hisses, getting ready to push him away. Kellen merely shrugs as he retracts his hand, taking a step back.

"Just hear me out," he says, raising his hands. "Ailith's too wishy-washy for my liking. She's trying to pick a bone with the wrong people, whilst you and I... well, we know this is a competition. Having a moral compass in a deathmatch makes you a liability. So I figure, what if we make a pact to help each other out?"

Elysia's glare doesn't dissipate, but there's no mistaking the glimmer of interest in her eyes. She gives a hesitant nod. "... go on."

Kellen smiles.

"Alright, so. We let Ailith splinter and crumble, then kill her when the time is right. The Capitol's desperate to have her gone - hence lumping her in with the Fives earlier today - so we cash in on her death, pull some sponsors, then take out the junkies and your District partner. They shouldn't be too hard to divide and conquer, with how much they like to squabble and fight. Not to mention, if we kill Venice, we can set Six and Nine against each other. Once that's over with, how it ends is up to you… we can fight, or we can split up, or we can go around headhunting the others until we reach the finale…"

Elysia seems at a loss for words. "That's..."

"Brilliant?" Kellen suggests, though there's no cockiness in his tone.

"Mercenary," Elysia supplies instead, sinking down on the edge of her bed, her hands digging into the firm mattress. "You're suggesting I help you destroy the same alliance I chose to form."

"You could look at it that way," Kellen concedes, with a small dip of his head. "Or you could look at it as a pragmatic, necessary sacrifice to secure our own position in the games. Think about it, Elysia, that's four competitors gone, two of whom could be major threats based on their background and training. And while I don't know much about Six and Nine, I can tell you that they've personally offended me, so I don't see an issue with them being collateral... somebody's going to have to kill them either way if they want to win. Why not us?" He chuckles. "But of course, this is all theoretical to begin with, so you can still shoot me down…"

Elysia's fingers curl tight into her bedding, nails scratching at the fabric. Her facial features are tight, both caustic and disgruntled at once as she sinks teeth into her lowkey lip, biting the flesh hard enough to turn it red.

"It's underhanded," she finally says, "and it needs refinement. But you've made a good argument - " she makes a face, almost as if it pains her to admit " - and I'm tempted to agree with your logic… which means you have yourself a deal."

Her eyes narrow as she releases the edge of the bed, stretching out her right hand (with no small amount of consternation.) Kellen readily clasps it, pleased to find that Elysia's grip is as steeled as his own.

There's a lot you can learn about someone from how they shake hands; their fortitude, their strength of will, whether they're domineering or subservient, how aggressive they have the potential to be. And while Kellen has reservations about working with Elysia, given how obviously inflexible she tends to be, her hold is almost enough to assure him of his decision. There's power in her knuckles, tenacity in her tendons. She wants to win almost as badly as he does, and that alone makes her a formidable ally.

(It will also make her a formidable enemy, once their pact is through. He'll need to prepare accordingly for the split. Even though he's seen Elysia train, witnessed flashes of her chilly exterior and controlling tendencies, he's smart enough to realize he doesn't know much of what she's capable of. This is a girl he can't simply waste half-measures on.)

Elysia's someone who deals only in certainties, who doesn't like to abide by conditions. She's trained, she's bitter, and she's desperate to have control over as many variables as she can possibly mind. That need for control is what makes her dangerous. But ultimately, she's no different from Vaclav: the pair of them are so similar, wannabe leaders too self-assured to anticipate betrayal. Confidence and intransigence had been Vaclav's undoing, and they'll be Elysia's as well. Kellen can see that much right now.

There's a reason he was able to undermine Vaclav as well as he did, a reason why he's the one who will implode the Career alliance, and hopefully upend the Games for the other tributes. Kellen Akos is comfortable with chaos. He doesn't care about honor or pride half as much as the people around him, and as a tribute, his willingness for opportunism is an asset he won't sell short. Elysia might have qualms about doing Ailith as dirty as he plans to, but Kellen's conscience is clear. He'll give Ailith an opportunity to fight. He's just stacking the odds in his favor while he has the chance.

Like any true tactician, Kellen knows there's no room for checks or draws in the Hunger Games. The only way he can win is by dealing in checkmates. Which means...

He needs a contingency plan.

tatiana terranova, district six female

…

Tatiana's barely managed to lie down when she hears her mentor's voice outside her door.

It's disconcerting, to be honest; Alvina's not the sort to do evening check-ins, not the sort to express concern even if she's been asked to do so. Like Lethe, she's aloof and withdrawn, the sort of person who gives advice in the form of criticism; she's not a mentor so much as an aristarch, taking pride in condescension and the sound of her own voice. That's part of the reason Tati can't stand her - can't stand the suite, with its labyrinth of too-thin walls and gazes ripe with judgment, every inch of the lavish apartment reviled by her existence.

Six was no different, in some ways, but at least back home she had room to breathe. Here, she has nothing.

Nothing. For all her efforts to secure a place for herself with the Careers - for all the machinations she's made with Patron, scheming in bed beside him about their sham alliance and debating how they should reap the benefits of their newfound prestige - Tati's gained practically nothing from joining the pack. Besides a massive target on her back, all she's managed to do is scrounge up a couple new enemies, garner even more scorn and vitriol than what she had before, and place herself on the outs of a relationship that she chose to initiate, effectively consigning herself to being a third wheel. She's fucked. Completely and totally fucked.

Worse still, she doesn't know how to fix any of it.

Ideally, she'd be able to at least spend her last night in the Capitol drowning her sorrows without interruption. While Tati's not normally one to wallow in self-pity, even she has her moments, and after the farce that was her interview, she doesn't think anyone can exactly blame her for trying to drink herself into a stupor. She deserves some down time. She deserves to brood.

But Alvina seems to think differently.

"Hey, Terranova," her mentor calls out as she pounds on the door, Tati's head raising slightly from where it's been smashed against one of her overly-fluffy pillows, her sweat-soaked hair matted to her face. "Your ally wants to talk."

Tati's eyes wander toward the clock on the wall across from her bed. Patron better have a good ass reason for hitting her up at this hour. Doesn't he know she needs her beauty sleep just as much as everyone else?

Ugh, whatever. Might as well get this shit over with, Tati thinks, hauling herself up from the mattress and stomping over to the door. She doesn't even bother to respond verbally before she throws it open, brushing past Alvina without saying a word and only just managing to avoid stepping on her mentor's foot.

The lights of the main room are bright enough to feel blinding. Heat begins to pool in her head, flushing her cheeks as she does her best to stay upright, a familiar ache gnawing at her innards. She shoves her hands into the pockets of her sweatpants, taking a moment to try and steady herself through the remnants of the hangover left behind from her training session - yet another hurdle of the day that she's been desperately trying to forget, to absolutely no avail. And no thanks to a certain murder cherub.

Her eyes drift to Lethe's door as she crosses through Six's suite, a twinge of bitterness flooding her throat. She remembers how he'd bared his teeth when she left the training room, jeering at her without speaking a word, and the thought of his derision is enough to make her blood boil. Even with two layers of wall between them, she can still see her Districtmate's smug little eyes, mocking and taunting her with their deranged stare.

… not that lingering on that's helping in any way. Actually, the more Tati thinks about Lethe, the more pissed off she feels.

Maybe Patty will be a good distraction. Provided he's not being a fucking straightedge again and trying to put a damper on her vibes.

She makes her way over to the suite door, her posture sluggish even as a spring starts to bleed into her step. Stepping through the open archway, she rests one arm against the door, plastering on her most manic smile, an absolutely radiant and winning grin.

"Patron, my favorite fuckboy! To what do I owe the pleasu -"

Wait.

That's not Patron.

She stops. Blinks a couple times to try and adjust her vision, make sure she's not just seeing things that don't really exist (fuck knows it wouldn't be the first time). When nothing seems to have changed after a couple minutes, her brows raise ever so slightly, startled by the surprising turn of events. Of all the people she might've expected...

"Well, well. Isn't this a nice surprise?" Tati remarks with a half-smirk. "Big Bad and Broody come to visit me, and at such a late hour, too? The implications are practically scandalous."

She drags her tongue across her lower lip, flitting her eyes up to meet those of her visitor. Frankly, Tati hadn't expected company tonight, but that doesn't mean she's averse to having it. After the absolute trainwreck that she caused during the interviews, she could use another body to give her some distraction - and sure, maybe Kellen wouldn't be her first choice, especially with how he's been seething at her over the last few days, but he's a hell of a lot better than nothing. Beggars can't be choosers.

Tati takes a step forward, one hand still clasping the knob of her suite's door. Kellen simply watches as she pulls it shut, face impassive and voice silent. The lock clicks into place and Tati smiles, fluttering her eyelashes as she steps forward, tilting her head up with a breathy laugh as she addresses her stoic ally, not a hint of shame in her behavior.

"I don't suppose you've finally decided to take me up on my offer…" she purrs, reaching a hand out to trail fingers along Kellen's arm, unsurprised when his own digits wrap tightly around her wrist, no time wasted in extricating himself from her grasp.

"Seriously, Six, give it a rest," the Two boy huffs. "I've met rats more appealing than you."

Tati scowls as he gives her a gentle push, relinquishing her wrist once he's wrangled her out of his personal space. Her arms cross over her chest, eyes narrowing as she takes a step back, fixing Kellen with a withering glare.

"Okay, I get it, you're not interested. That's fine with me. Nobody with half a brain would want to fuck you anyway. Like, honestly, you're not even half as attractive as Patron seems to think, and my gods, your temper? Such a turn off. Extremely unattractive. Just so you know." Tati persists, nodding along with her own words.

Kellen lifts an eyebrow, almost as if daring her to continue, and Tati can swear she sees the corner of his lip twitch. Great. He's laughing at her!

"What do you want?" She hisses, unwilling to prolong her own humiliation. At that, Kellen actually does laugh, and Tati's nose scrunches up in rage. Seriously, he's fucking laughing! Why is he laughing?!

"Why so hostile?" He asks, crossing his arms. Tati shrugs and leans back against the door, trying to at least pretend she's perfectly at ease with the situation.

"All's fair in love and war," she replies caustically, her eyes trained on the wall over his shoulder. "Not that you'd probably know, but being rejected? Really strikes at the ego, I gotta say. Kinda feels like a personal attack."

"And people call me melodramatic..."

"It's not melodrama if it's justified," Tati protests.

"Oh, please." The Two boy rolls his eyes. "Spare me your justification."

"Spare me your everything!" Tati snaps back. "What are you even doing here?"

"Well, believe it or not, I came to offer some advice," Kellen practically sneers, any traces of his previous congeniality gone. "Although I probably shouldn't have bothered. Trying to reason with you is like shouting at a brick wall."

Tati bristles, but chooses to be responsible and ignore the insult hidden in that particular quip. Admittedly, she is a bit curious about what advice someone like Kellen would be trying to give, especially to someone like her…

"Why would you give me advice?"

"Consider it a peace offering," Kellen shrugs. Tati's mouth opens a touch in disbelief and he holds up a hand, encouraging her to wait. "Don't get me wrong, you're hardly the first person I'd have picked as an ally... but I can see the merits to having a partnership. You're resourceful. Conniving, yes, selfish, yes, but driven in a way the others aren't. I have to say I appreciate the game you're playing."

"... you do?" Tati asks, disbelieving. Kellen shrugs his shoulder again, though oddly enough, the action doesn't feel especially dismissive. Actually, what he's saying sounds almost genuine. It's bizarre.

"Sure," he agrees. "I won't say I don't have reservations, but as far as I'm concerned, Elysia and Ailith have both been too keen to write you off. And you know as well as I do that Venice doesn't take you seriously, even if he's willing enough to indulge you."

"Venice takes me seriously," Tati protests, though her words fall utterly flat, the defense hollow even to her own ears.

(She's been trying to ignore it. The feeling of being a third wheel in the trio that she'd brokered, the growing sense that she's been made second fiddle to her outlier compatriot, whose personality seems to mesh far better with Venice's than her own. And it's not like Tati's really surprised by that - for as many hang-ups as she has with the guy, she can admit that Patron is a lot more charming than she's capable of being. Not to mention far easier to talk to.)

(She doesn't have suspicions about Patron's allegiance. Just like she doesn't have suspicions about Venice's motive in so readily accepting them into his bed, indulging her whimsical plan with seemingly no qualms, despite the fact it was random and hastily made. Sure, hedonism's as good an incentive as anything - Tati can attest to that - but Patron and Kellen both had their reservations about indulging her, which were honestly more than a little fair! Venice didn't even blink when she'd tried to proposition him. And while Tati's glad for that - because he was an in, a connection to the sponsorship and alliance prestige that she'd craved - she's started to wonder if he didn't have his own plans for the pack. She's seen the odd looks he gives her when he's talking with Patron, seen the way he'll pitch his voice low and whisper when he thinks she's not looking. She's seen the way he'll glance at Elysia when he's with them, teasing Patron while his arm's around Tati's waist, talking loud enough to garner attention from anyone in the vicinity, with almost no care as for what people think. And maybe that's just Venice, maybe he's just naturally arrogant and self-assured, but… it feels more insidious than that. If Tati had more to go on, she'd be inclined to say that the One boy is just using her and Patron to fuel a grudge… to unsettle his own partner.)

"Do you really believe that?" Kellen asks, his sudden acknowledgement startling Tati from her reverie.

She looks up, teeth sinking into her lip as she feigns a shrug of her own. "Maybe," she says, and Kellen sighs, stuffing his free hands into the pockets of his own sleep pants, much like Tati had earlier.

"Listen, I know we've had our differences," the Two boy states plainly, and Tati dips her head in reply. "And I'll be honest: I think you're a self-indulgent, narcissistic airhead that could stand to have her ego knocked down a few pegs. But with that said, you've got strengths that I don't think the rest of the pack has even seen. Your penchant for chaos, your willingness to abide by opportunism and sacrifice your morals for personal benefit… those are assets that shouldn't be wasted. So let me ask you a question -"

"What is this?" Tati cuts him off abruptly, her eyes narrowed into slits. A shiver runs along the length of her spine, leaving her almost on edge. "You come down here to give me advice, proceed to spend the next ten minutes insulting me, then dress the insults up like praise and start acting all slick, like you know anything about who I am or what I want? Seriously, Kellen, what do you want from me? A truce? A partnership? Or is this just some trick to get my guard down before you start chipping in with blackmail and -"

"No trick," Kellen shakes his head. "No truce, either. I just wanted to clear the air."

"Clear the air on what?"

"On this alliance… and your place in it."

Kellen takes a step forward. Tati perks up, ready to move should she need to, but her back's pressed tight against the suite door, leaving her with nowhere to go. Her eyes dart to either side, then return to Kellen's face as she lifts her chin, posturing the best she can to cover up her own unease. She stiffens her jaw, swallowing hard as she stares him down, his footsteps drawing ever nearer, his form practically pressed up against her own.

"No matter what you say or try to show them, they're always going to see you as the weak link in the pack," Kellen whispers, resting his arm on the doorframe over her head. "Outliers are outsiders, last year should have made that obvious."

"Trust me, I'm as capable as any of you -"

"I know," Kellen agrees before she can start on a tangent. "I know you are, Tatiana. That's why I'm here."

Tati frowns, running her tongue along the inside of her teeth. "... I'm listening."

Kellen chuckles. "Good."

There's a pause as he steps back, glancing down the hall uncertainly, his voice still pitched to a near whisper.

"Elysia doesn't trust you - but she also doesn't see you as a threat. She thinks you're weak; a nuisance that she's been saddled with against her will, a headache that she occasionally will have to indulge and deal with. You're a problem for her, but she doesn't take you seriously. She hardly even thinks of you as an opponent."

"Like I give a fuck what she thinks."

"You do," Kellen observes. "A lot more than you'd care to admit."

"Fuck you," Tati curses. Kellen laughs.

"Hey, I'm not judging, I know it feels like shit! Having everyone look down on you, dismiss your skills and your accomplishments in lieu of others, ignore your presence unless it serves their own interests… ostracism can be hard to stomach."

"You sound like you're speaking from experience," Tati mutters.

"Maybe I am," Kellen concedes, refocusing his attention on her face, his dark eyes staring directly into her own. "But... that's enough for tonight. Just think about what I said - and consider whether or not you want to take up an offer."

"An offer?" Tati asks, her eyes widening. "I thought you said this wasn't about truces."

"It's not," Kellen agrees. "It's about an alliance. And more specifically, one of mutual benefit. You and I, we're not like the others. We're too unstable, too volatile… too reckless to fit the order that your friend and the Ones seem to crave…"

Kellen trails off, removing his arm from the doorframe and turning around.

"But as I see it, that only works to our benefit. We can choose to take advantage of opportunity when it strikes - because neither of us abides by order. The others are expecting us to cause trouble, but they aren't expecting us to do it together. So…"

"Wait - are you suggesting we kill our own alliance?"

"I'm suggesting we play outside the rules that Elysia's set," Kellen retorts. "We both want to survive, and we can recognize our allies as threats. If either of us want to make it out of the arena, we're going to have to kill them… so why not start planning for the fallout while we have a chance? Us loose cannons have more firepower as a united force. Don't you agree?"

I do, Tati thinks, though the words don't leave her lips. She reaches for the handle to the suite door again, the cool weight of the knob against her skin oddly grounding as she sizes Kellen up, appraising him to the best of her efforts.

It's true that she resents the Careers; that she resents District One for dismissing her as a joke, resents Patron for sidelining her in exchange for Venice, when she's the one who pulled them together in the first place. And more still, she resents her District; the partner who mocks her and the mentor who talks down to her, the family that disowned her and the lover who voted her into the Games, like he thought he had the right to consign her to death, to hurt her for daring to be more successful.

She's not sure she can trust Kellen; there's something cold and venomous in his eyes, something that Tati finds deeply unsettling. But the glint of venom that lingers in his gaze isn't anything unfamiliar. On the contrary… it's an expression with which Tati's intimately acquainted.

"Fine. You have a deal," she finally replies, brushing her hair back from her face and looking away. "Just don't make me regret it. I've got too much liver damage to stomach another betrayal, and not enough booze to really deal with one, so…"

"Oh, trust me," Kellen says, glancing back over his shoulder. "You won't regret this."

A/N: Control by Halsey.

Double update? It's more likely than you think...

Interlude will be up tomorrow or Wednesday after I have more dental work done. :) Then it's the launch, which hopefully I'll be posting on or before December 31 - and we'll be officially done with the pregames! Absolutely wild to think about. I hope y'all are as ready as I am to move into the next phase of this fic come the New Year!