A/N: This is a long-ass and eventful chapter, but stick with it through the end and you'll understand where it's going.

Purnia's advice falls by the wayside as soon as I return to my room after that conversation with Katniss. I don't miss sobriety enough to have any desire to go through this in an unaltered state, so I hit my Victory Tour leftovers hard. It's all too much. The feelings of betrayal and despair from when I was forced to withdraw, dredged up anew. My humiliation at the hands of Cray. Missing Clove, and berating myself for missing her. Losing Katniss. No, not losing her, pushing her away. That's even worse. I'll probably be alone forever, but whatever, I kind of deserve it.

I don't bother trying to abate my loneliness; rather, I sequester myself in my quarters for much of the following week. I leave once to shower and only the odd time to force some food into my irritated stomach. A few of my shift-mates try to get me to come out, or to talk, but I ignore them. I don't have a conversation of any length or significance until Darius swipes a master key late Wednesday morning, after several bouts of knocking. He finds me on the floor, shoulders propped against the side of my bed, a bottle between my sprawled legs. I try to glare, but I'm too emotionally exhausted to be angry. "Making sure you weren't dead," he says. I can't tell if he's joking or not.

"Maybe I wasn't answering because I was busy jerking off," I deadpan.

"Is that supposed to deter me?" His half-hearted smirk lasts only seconds, and then he closes the door behind him. "Why are you on the floor?" he asks, sneaking closer.

"I like it down here," I shrug.

Darius purses his lips and blinks around the room at my small collection of empty bottles. With my monetary resources drained thanks to my purchase for Katniss, I've had to make what I already had on hand last. As a result, I haven't gotten the chance to get any drunker than a state of numb dissociation. Purnia would be pleased. "You know," Darius says, "I totally get the need to self-medicate, but this is some Haymitch-level shit you're pulling these days."

I scoff and blow a stray piece of hair from my face. "Did Purnia send you?"

"No." He edges by me and settles on the floor to my right. "I'm worried about you, Jo."

"Oh, here we go," I groan with a massive eye roll.

Darius grabs my chin and turns my face his way. "I'm serious," he insists. "Listen to me. You have alcoholism in your family. If you're not careful, you will end up like Haymitch. Have you ever met him?" I shake my head, or at least attempt to. "He is a miserable sack of flesh," Darius enunciates. "He's always drunk. He's violent, he's sad, and he has no family or friends."

"Oh, so, a lot like me," I snicker wryly.

"Yeah," he agrees with a weak smile. "If you're gonna get hooked on something, get hooked on morphling. That would at least mellow you out." He releases my jaw and gives my cheek a couple of pats. I let out a sad chuckle and look down into the bottle between my legs. I feel his eyes on me for a few more seconds, and then he asks very softly, "What's going on with you?"

I sigh and wipe my red-brimmed, exhausted eyes. "Something came up," I say.

"You mean your suspension?"

"No." I shake my head. "Like, something from my past." I look up and into his caring eyes. "Something I was hoping I would lose in all of this," I explain, sweeping my hand around the room. "But no, it's come around to haunt me again."

Darius considers this momentarily and then asks, "Does this have to do with why you left the program? That reason you refuse to talk about?" I nod, feeling a few tears burn paths down my cheeks. I blink away and face forward again, embarrassed. "And now that you're suspended, you have nothing to distract you from it," he reasons. I nod again, numbly. My head feels so heavy. I am beyond tired of crying.

I twitch with surprise when I feel his arm slip around my shoulders. I expected the motor mouth to keep talking. That's usually all he does. But it's admittedly a welcome surprise, and his fingers curling around my deltoid is all it takes for me to let my head fall against his shoulder. I close my eyes and soak up the particular comfort that comes from the closeness of another person, one I haven't had nearly enough of lately. One I've purposely withheld from myself, much of the time. This is a moment of weakness, but I'm already so weak and compromised, I hardly care.

"Do you want me to talk about something?" he asks a minute later. "Something else?"

I shake my head and then turn it to wipe my eyes on his shirtsleeve that smells of fresh laundry. "No," I mumble. "I want to talk."

I feel him tip his head down to get a better look at me. "Really?"

"Mm," I nod. And I do. I don't know why, but I do. Maybe because my loneliness has finally become unbearable. Or because I'm being crushed under the weight of my secrets. Except, they're not really secrets anymore. I need someone who knows them on my side, need to release them to someone I trust. And if there's anyone I trust in this district, it's Darius. He already knows the part about me being in the program, anyway.

I shift on my numbed ass to sit up straighter and turn in toward Darius a little. He follows suit, drawing his arm back in the process. I clear my throat and sigh, catching his eye meaningfully. "This is difficult for me to talk about."

"I figured," he nods.

I exhale through my nose and drum my fingers on my knees. "I don't even know where to start," I admit.

"How long were you in the program?" I smile a little to myself. He's starting me off easy.

"A little under eight years. Joined the fall after the 65th."

Darius lets out a low whistle. "Trained to kill from a young age, huh? I'll remember never to piss you off."

"You already have." I smirk up at him. "If I wanted to kill you, I would."

"But you don't want to," he says.

I avert my eyes to the wall and shake my head. "No."

"Were you good?"

I smile ironically and take a swig. "The best."

"So you didn't leave because you thought they wouldn't pick you?" I throw him some side-eye and he shrugs innocently. "That's just what I assumed. That your ego was bruised and you ran away."

"Do I really seem like the type to give up? To tuck my tail between my legs and run?" He looks pointedly at the bottle. "Shut up. Asshole."

"Just sayin'."

I glare at him and pointedly down another mouthful. Then I raise an eyebrow and extend the bottle to him. He chuckles but slips it out of my grip and tips it back.

"There was this girl a couple years behind me in the program," I blurt. "She blackmailed me into withdrawing so she could take my place this year."

Darius's eyes flick over, suddenly huge. "What?" he chokes. He wipes his mouth on his sleeve and thunks the bottle on the floor. "Who would do something like that?"

"Clove Kentwell," I enunciate through a clenched jaw. The words burn my mouth worse than the alcohol.

"What did she dig up on you?" When I eye him up suspiciously, he adds, "If you don't mind my asking. I promise I won't spill your secrets."

"Yeah, right. You never shut up." I snatch the bottle from his hand and take a swig. "She caught me breaking the law, let's just put it that way." I laugh sourly. "Actually, she knew I was going to, and she made sure there was proof. She went out of her way to take me down."

"That's fucked up," he declares bluntly. His forehead suddenly crinkles. "Why would she even bother? You said she's sixteen this summer, right?"

I snort. "She's already sixteen, actually. Has been since October." I turn my head and add drolly, "Not that I sent her a card or anything."

Darius sucks his top lip between his teeth, squinting in thought. "I don't get it. Why would she do that if she had two more years of eligibility? Why go in younger than necessary?"

"Paranoia," I answer, not missing a beat. When his expression fails to change, I elaborate, "I figure she probably saw it as her surest chance of being selected. Both Quells so far have affected the reaping rules, so she might have been rendered ineligible next year."

"Even so, she could have volunteered for the 76th," he counters. "If she thinks she's taking your place this year, she must be the frontrunner in her age category."

"But these things are never set in stone," I explain. "Scar and I assumed we'd be 73 and 74, and look how that turned out. Candidates crop up out of nowhere, existing ones improve, injuries happen. So she took an opportunity when she saw one. Even if someone else gets selected this time around, that's one less person she'll have to compete with in later years."

"You've spent a lot of time thinking about this," Darius observes.

"I've had a lot of time to think," I shrug. "I've been trying not to think as much as possible, but it's hard not to. Especially now that I have nothing better to do."

"We could go for a workout," he suggests. I pointedly widen my eyes, so he clarifies, "I mean, once you've sobered up. Not right this second."

"Said with the presumption that I intend to sober up," I retort.

"You're going to," he says decidedly. "You have to if you want to avoid another DoD and another week or two of sitting here, stewing in your own regrets."

"Like trusting that little bitch," I scoff. I don't have much space left for anger in the penance I've been putting myself through, but it feels good whenever I find an opportunity to blame Clove again. A moment of relief. "She was like, 'Sorry, Jo, I don't want to do this.' Fuck off. Of course she did." I turn back to Darius, only to see his mouth hanging open. "What?" I demand.

"It was your ex?" he gasps. I stare blankly. Shit. I've said too much, yet again. I can see the gears turning behind his eyes, doing the math. Literally. Then his eyebrows knit and he says, "Holy fucking shit. She accused you of stat rape, didn't she?"

I sigh and blink down to the floor. "'Accused' isn't really the word for it, now is it?"

"What do you mean?"

"'Accused' implies I was innocent. I wasn't." Feeling a reemergence of my cry face coming on, I set my jaw and glare yet harder at the floor. My carefully controlled voice comes out quiet and low. "I was very, very guilty."

"Johanna. You have to stop torturing yourself over this." He slides a hand under my jawbone and tips it up again. "It's why you're self-destructing, right? Talking down about yourself all week, sitting on the floor, pushing everyone away, barely eating?" He brushes a thumb over my cheek and reassures me, "You are not a bad person, okay?"

"I am, kind of. Though that's not the only reason." I drop my face into my palms and exhale shakily. "Really, I'm just an idiot."

"Yeah, pretty much," he agrees bluntly.

I wearily meet his eyes and half-heartedly snark, "Thanks."

"What do you expect me to say?" he scoffs. "Who in their right mind gets involved with a rival?"

"Well, you know what they say." I flourish dramatically and recite, "'Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.'"

"No, I think that was her philosophy," he says. "You're the one who got played."

I purse my lips and stare at the wall, tapping one of my feet on the floor as I consider how to explain this. I ultimately say, "This is what the Games are all about, as a Career. Alliances and levels of trust. How well can you trust someone, and for how long? A true ally will scourge the field with you, but then have the balls to fight you face-to-face, not lodge a knife in your spine the second it's down to the two of you. I guess that's what I thought Clove was." I pause to snort in self-contempt. "But I always knew deep down that she wasn't. The danger was part of the attraction." The tears start welling in my eyes again, but I turn to my friend instead of concealing them. My voice threatens to crack as I lament, "I miss her so much, Darius. If she were here, I'd wanna lodge an axe in her face and then kiss it all better. I fucking hate her."

Darius chuckles a little to himself. My watery eyes go hard and he raises his hands innocently. "Sorry, that's just some hilarious imagery." I find it in myself to smile a little, and Darius smirks, "If you can do that, you must have magical fuckin' lips."

This catches me a little off-guard, but I try not to let it show. No matter how he intended it, I have a reputation of witty, sexy comebacks to keep up. I tilt my face up, flutter my eyelashes at him, and croon, "Wouldn't you like to know?" Now it's his turn to be caught off guard, and he doesn't hide it quite so well. When I hear his breath catch and see his eyes flit down to my lips, I realize it. He does want to know. I mean, I guess that's not really a surprise, but he's never said as much, not seriously. The real surprise is the draw I feel to close the gap. But I don't overthink it. I close my eyes and let the fuzzy warmth in my chest guide my face.

I feel Darius's hand softly cup my cheek, and I sigh into the space between us, continuing my upward trajectory. His breath is brushing my lips by the time he presses back a little with his hand, slowing me to a stop. I open my eyes curiously, only to see him biting his lip. "Shit," he mutters.

I look from his face to his obstructing hand, blinking bewilderedly. "I thought–"

"You thought right, it's just…" He sighs heavily. "This isn't how I wanted to do this." I squint, trying to bring him into sharper focus. "You're drunk."

"So?"

"I'm not?" I only blink in reply, so he explains, "I don't want us to do something you'll regret and make our relationship all weird, okay? Yeah, I'd like to kiss you, but I'm fine with things the way they are, and I don't want to fuck them up. You're clearly still hung up on this girl, anyway."

"So you're assuming I can't make my own decisions because I'm drunk?" I chirp indignantly.

Darius purses his lips and rejoins with a hint of condescension, "Well, it's probably not the best time to be making decisions."

"Maybe I can handle my alcohol, Mr. Morality Police. How about you stop treating me like I'm a fucking child?"

"Maybe I would, if you'd stop acting like one," he snaps. "You know, I'm happy to be your distraction, Johanna, but if you're gonna use me to make yourself feel better about some stupid girl who doesn't appreciate you, I'd rather you at least be sober."

My face falls as fast as my jaw. It takes a second for me to recover my anger enough to narrow my eyes and articulate, "Wow, tell me how you really feel. You think you get to decide how I should feel about you?"

"No," he answers shortly. "But I do get to decide if it's worth the bullshit to get involved with you."

That takes the last of my will to fight. I drop my eyes and mumble, "And here I thought you liked me."

Darius puts a hand on my knee and softens his voice considerably. "Hey," he says, giving it a squeeze. "I do like you. In more ways than one." I catch his eye again, less begrudgingly than I make it look. "Everyone has their bullshit. So yours involves unresolved feelings for traitorous exes, so what?" He grins a little, and I roll my eyes. "It's not that I'm judging you," he clarifies. "I don't wanna get caught up in some huge web of drama. The offer's still open, and I'm happy to keep it casual and non-dramatic. As long as you're sure it's what you want."

I cock a sassy eyebrow. "But only once I'm sober?"

Darius flexes his arms and morphs his face in another one of his goofy seductive poses. "Great incentive to sober up, huh?"

I snicker and punch him in the shoulder. "I'm not even that drunk," I argue. "I wouldn't be able to have an intelligent conversation with you if I was."

"Maybe not," he reasons, "but you're uninhibited."

"Is that abnormal?" I smirk.

"Not really, no." Darius hesitates a second, but then awkwardly pushes himself to his feet. "I should go," he mumbles on the way up, seemingly thinking aloud. He gives me a tight-lipped smile and nods toward his quarters. "If you need me, I'm next door."

"Okay," I say with as little enthusiasm as I feel. I don't want him to go, but it's not fair of me to ask him to stay. This is becoming a common theme for me, these days.

***o***

"Leaving one's assigned area without permission: DoD Class 3 Misdemeanor." I point at the group of on-duty Peacekeepers standing nearby, drinking and laughing, then glance over to my companions for approval. Purnia and I are seated on some crates a few feet from Darius, who's leaning against the outer sidewall of Greasy Sae's stall, where the three of us just bought some soup. If you can call it that. It's surely not her fault, because the weather's been bad this week and poached meat has been scarce, but the beef broth is weak and there's not much filler. I'm not sure if it's even beef. I don't ask, because I don't want to know.

"Rawley probably said they could come around," Darius argues. "He was just here not even half an hour ago."

I catch Purnia's eye. "You wouldn't just let us off mid-shift."

"If I ran afternoons, I might, once in a while," she shrugs. "Not to drink and cavort, but to trade. I know it's better later in the day."

"Besides, having them here makes more sense than making everyone freeze their nuts off in the hummers," says Darius. "All the locals are either shuttered up in their houses, or they're here." He sweeps his hand around the crowded Hob.

I scoff and take a moment to bend one of my knees and tuck my heel between my thighs. I nod toward the group and point out, "Still, imbibing alcohol or drugs while on duty: DoD Class 1 Offense."

"Mason," groans Darius.

One of the on-duty guys, who apparently can't withstand a playful shove, stumbles a couple of steps and almost crashes into Purnia. He holds up a hand in apology and wobbles back to his friends, lobbing obscenities. I nod his way and recite, "Being found to be under the influence and impaired while on duty: DoD Class 2 Offense."

Purnia reaches over and taps her spoon against my bowl. "Purchasing illegally produced or obtained goods: Unlawful Activities Class 4 Offense."

I glare at her, but Darius chimes in again before I can argue. "You benefit from this laxity too, Johanna. Don't blame everyone else just because you got busted acting out of order during a major event."

"He's right," agrees Purnia. "Let it go." I scowl down at my bowl. I've been off my suspension for two weeks as of today, but I'm still rather bitter about the whole ordeal. One of Purnia's hands comes into the picture, gripping my wrist, and I begrudgingly catch her eye again. "Look, I understand that you didn't really know better because of what the troops get away with on a regular day around here," she sympathizes, "but now you do know better. And I'm sure you'll do just fine, next televised event."

"Reaping day," I mutter.

She nods. "There's never anything else to broadcast out of here."

I shut up after that and let Darius embarrass himself with his mouth instead, which is more the usual. He's had a little to drink, but that's not necessary to procure such behavior from the village idiot. With all the traffic milling around, I barely notice two snow-dusted figures making their way for Greasy Sae's, and I only recognize them when Katniss removes her knit cap and shakes the powder from it. I guess the surprise must show on my face, because Darius stops mid-sentence and glances over his shoulder.

"What? Never seen an attractive girl before?" he smirks, turning back to us.

I blush and mutter, "They're not usually here this early." Unless it's a Sunday, sometimes. Every other day, they have to wait until school's over to hit the woods. It can't be any later than four-thirty on Saturday.

"It's the storm," he reasons. "What are they gonna catch in whiteout conditions?"

"A cold, maybe," deadpans Purnia.

Darius snorts. "Yeah, just about." He peeks over his shoulder again, watching as the two hunters hand over some coins and gratefully receive a couple of bowls of steaming broth. Katniss dips her head to take a big whiff and shudders as the heat hits her face. Gale's reacting much the same way, opening his coat to clutch his bowl to his chest. Darius was probably right about our co-workers freezing their nuts off. Maybe even the girls.

"What're you staring at?" Gale huffs, looking my way.

I check in on Katniss, who's just hoisting herself up to sit cross-legged on Sae's counter, then return my eyes to Gale. "Don't suppose you want me to keep you warm, huh?" I wink. I sneak another glance at his partner. Her mouth quirks irritably, but she doesn't say anything. Gale just rolls his eyes and lifts the entire bowl to his lips to take a glug from the edge. I kind of love that my faux advance annoyed her more than him, even though I'm not totally sure who she's jealous of. I can still let her possible feelings for me stroke my ego, right? No harm in that.

Darius rolls off the outer side of the stall's wall so he's now leaning against the end of it, facing Katniss and Greasy Sae and almost entirely blocking my view of them. I can catch a sliver of the poacher past his left shoulder. "So, Miss Everdeen," he drawls, "what do you have for sale today?" He nods at her bag she discarded on the floor. "Anything… tasty?" I can hear his eyebrow waggle in his voice. I groan inwardly and pretend to be focused on my soup.

"Not much," the girl shrugs. "A couple rabbits, one squirrel."

"Not much?" he repeats doubtfully. "Don't sell yourself short, now. I do love me a good rabbit."

"Oh, do you?" she challenges him with a touch of a smirk. "Then I'm sure you'll pay top dollar. What are you willing to give me for one?"

"A kiss," comes his brazen reply. I almost choke on my spoonful of soup, and clap a hand over my mouth in case I start coughing. I flick my eyes over to Gale to see him wearing a stony expression. He might pass for unaffected, if I didn't catch the subtle tightness in his jaw. I guess he's not as aggressively territorial when Katniss is around, either that or I really caught him off guard that time a few weeks ago. Either way, he's making an effort to conceal it. I know the feeling.

Katniss, meanwhile, just rubs her chin in thought, smiling mischievously. "Hmm. That hardly seems like a fair trade."

"Nonsense, young lady," he gasps. "One of my kisses is easily worth a rabbit, maybe even two." He takes the end of her braid between his fingers and tickles her cheek with it. "Everyone knows redheaded men are the most virile."

My eyes go huge, but Katniss only laughs and playfully smacks his hand away, apparently unbothered. I look over at Purnia, who looks only halfway as disturbed as I am. "Dude," I mouth at her.

She rolls her eyes with a headshake, leaning toward me. I close the remaining distance, and she whispers, "Any other Peacekeeper, they wouldn't be laughing." I peek around her. She's referring to Greasy Sae, who's joined in the laughter and ribbing. I can't help wondering if I'm included in that category of extraneous Peacekeepers.

"What makes Darius so special?" I grumble.

"Look at him," scoffs Purnia. "He's harmless. You can hardly picture him as a man, let alone virile." I snicker a little. That's mostly true. With his fresh face, save for the sparse beginnings of a beard on the underside of his jaw, Darius could pass for my age or younger. His self-effacing and satirically pompous sense of humor adds to the illusion. I actually don't doubt his virility, but that's not something I'm about to admit to anyone. Nor the fact that it's come to my mind more than a few times since our almost-kiss a couple weeks ago. Still, I figure it's better than having those thoughts about Katniss. "And he's known Katniss for years," adds Purnia. "She knows as well as any of us that he's all bluster."

Another roar of laughter from Greasy Sae draws my attention back to her counter, where Darius is pointing at someone across the room. "No?" he says. "There's more." He points to someone else. "See? The one in the green muffler? Go ahead and ask her. If you need a reference."

"You're full of it," Katniss chuckles.

"What?" he gapes. "Don't trust a stranger? Fine, ask Johanna." Darius steps back with a flourish in my direction. Greasy Sae whistles, while Katniss blinks between us with narrowed eyes and a slightly puckered mouth.

"Ask me what?" I inquire suspiciously, bouncing my eyes between all three expectant faces.

"Oh, Miss Everdeen here needs some convincing about the quality of my kisses. I was hoping you could give her a favorable review." Little shit. My first instinct is to vehemently refute his claim, and rightfully so. But Katniss's expression is priceless. What little of an expression she has, that is. She's got her impassive mask back on now, but I catch a minute twitch in her jaw, and she can't disguise the subtle pulsing vein over her right eyebrow. Her feelings on the matter are plain as day, at least to me. Maybe not to everyone else. Possibly not even to her. Despite my reservations that Cray only reinforced that day he suspended me, I can't help but wish I'd kissed her when I had the chance. I'm not going to, but I can at least have a little fun.

I stand and place my bowl on my seat, then slink the few steps over to Darius, lighting up my eyes seductively. I circle my right arm around his waist and lean into his side, eyeing up the two women with a provocative smirk. "Oh, baby," I coo, "I'm not sure I want to tell them." I place my free hand on his sternum and gaze longingly into his eyes. "Don't want either of these ladies moving in on my territory."

Darius's eyes flicker and land on my lips, much of the humor lost in his expression. When he catches my eye again, I see an intensity I'm not used to. From him, anyway. If we were in private, he'd surely have me in a lip-lock by now. That hungry look stirs my innards and settles a familiar heat deep in my stomach. It's not unwelcome, to be honest.

"He's that good, is he?" Greasy Sae's voice cuts into my consciousness. Right, I'm supposed to be making Katniss jealous.

I slyly turn back their way to evaluate my success, feeling Darius sneak an arm over my shoulders. Greasy Sae merely appears amused, but Katniss has gone white, by her standards. I almost feel bad, but I keep up the act. I graze my hand over to his pec, lick my lips and proclaim, "Outstanding."

Katniss scoffs, the color rapidly returning to her cheeks. "I still say you're both full of shit."

"Oo, feisty," I remark, slipping out from under Darius's arm so I can move closer. "What is it, Everdeen?" I tip my head and smirk into her face from only feet away. She sizes me up warily but silently, so I lean forward into her space and plant my palms just under her knees, flanking her crossed feet. "Am I the one moving in on your territory?"

Katniss unhooks her legs and plants the sole of one of her boots on my chest. I lift my hands placatingly but keep my smug expression. She leans in a little and snarls, "Hardly," then abruptly straightens her leg, propelling me back a few steps. Not especially hard, but enough to raise a few eyebrows, I notice as I look around.

"We're good," I assure a couple of our guys in uniform who are fingering their gun hilts and looking on.

Katniss is dropping to her feet when I turn back around. She palms her bowl with one of her large hands and scoops her game bag up off the floor. "Come on, Gale," she says before stalking away, leveling one final glare at me. The boy follows her silently, wearing much the same expression. My guts burble a little as I watch him place a hand on her shoulder while they retreat, and her subsequent failure to shrug it off. Of course. Just because she appears to have a little crush on me doesn't mean that I hypothetically have an advantage over Gale. Or that she can't still hate me.

***o***

Hustling to preserve our body heat, it takes the three of us only ten minutes on foot to get home from the dilapidated industrial area near the mines. We waited out the worst of the blizzard in the Hob, but the temperature dropped even further by the time we got the chance to leave, several hours and bowls of soup later. Purnia peels off to take a hot shower the second we get in the door – in her own private bathroom, because of course that's one of the perks of being an officer – while Darius and I opt to hit up the tiny coffee bar in the Commune to warm up. He goes straight for the instant brewing machine and starts pressing buttons.

"Hot chocolate," I order, slumping into a chair at one of the small tables in the immediate area.

Darius looks up amusedly. "Who was your slave last week?"

I lazily point his way and retort, "You owe me for earlier. Pretending to be your lover and all."

"Oh." He blushes only a little, but it's noticeable against his pasty complexion. He furtively glances about. "I wasn't expecting you to play along, honestly. Homo and all," he draws out with a smirk. I raise an eyebrow and my middle finger. He chuckles and dumps in some sugar cubes in his mug, then programs my drink into the machine, saying, "I was just givin' you a rough time."

"Never said I don't like it rough," I drawl. He fumbles the spoon he's just picked up, and I enjoy a laugh at his expense. "But I figured you need to protect your reputation with the ladies."

He looks up from stirring his drink and says, "Well, then I appreciate the help."

I wait until my hands are wrapped around the scalding mug and Darius is sitting only feet away before I quietly probe, "Why those ladies?"

"Huh?" he replies, louder than necessary.

I lean in and pointedly lower my volume even further. "Katniss and Greasy Sae. Aren't they both a little, you know… out of your age range?" Darius snorts and sips his coffee. "I'm serious," I insist. "Everdeen, she's not even legal."

Darius smirks at me from behind the rim of his mug. "I don't fuck everyone I flirt with. Do you?" He might be sharper than I sometimes give him credit for. It's the perfect comeback, really. I've playfully flirted with him enough in the month and a half since my arrival for him to know the answer.

"No," I admit with a smile. His grin spreads, so I attempt to throw him by tacking on, "Haven't fucked Gale."

"Of course you haven't," Darius snickers. "Kid's a virgin, or so he claims. Says he's waiting for 'someone special.'" He pops his eyes meaningfully, and I give him my best barf face in return.

"Like that's gonna happen anytime soon," I scoff. "She's a complete tightass."

Darius shrugs noncommittally. "You never know. Sometimes when people figure out what they want, things escalate quickly." He holds my gaze for a long moment while he slurps down some of his hot brew, then stands and wipes his mouth. "Taking this to my room," he narrates, indicating his cup. "See you after shift?"

"Yeah, I'll be around," I assure him unenthusiastically. I've almost come to resent my days off, or at least Sundays, my days off without Darius. They remind me too much of being suspended. The redhead gives me a small wave and disappears in the direction of M wing.

I sit around for a while after he goes, observing my coworkers but not really paying attention. The brewing machine must have been overused today without any maintenance, because my hot chocolate is about as subpar as the soup. I dump the watery mixture before I've even finished half of it, then start ambling toward my room. Nothing about today has been satisfying, certainly not the food. The only thing close was the look on Katniss's face when I was cozied up to Darius. Then again, not much of anything has been satisfying lately.

I pass Darius's cracked door and dig out my keycard. I lift it to the reader and start to swipe, but pause halfway through the motion. I don't want to be here. I don't want to go in and waste away in isolation, pining for things I can't have. I don't want to be anywhere, really. But some places are better than others. Some things are better than nothing. I ease the card back into my pocket and take a few tentative steps to my left, biting my lip. It takes a couple moments of standing around and letting my heart rate needlessly soar before I get the ovaries to poke my head around my neighbor's door. He's sitting at his desk, reading a book, his probably long-emptied coffee cup discarded on top of the built-in bookshelf to his left. I swallow to steady my voice before nudging the door out of my way and saying, "Darius?"

He blinks up to catch my eye, and his jaw almost immediately goes slack. "Yeah?" he breathes, his voice cutting off a fraction of a second too early. I didn't mean for it to be obvious what I'm here for, but I guess it shows on my face. I confirm his apparent suspicions by closing the door behind me. As I approach, he pushes his swivel chair out from the desk and spins it a little so he's facing me. He starts to stand up, but I lay a hand on his shoulder and push lightly in a silent order to sit back down. I bite my lip again as I stare down into his coffee-colored eyes, pupils already dilating and making them impossibly darker. The sight of that and his parted, expectant lips only makes me want this more. How I've missed that look.

I ease one knee and then the other between the chair's arms and his thighs to rest on the edges of the seat, bracing my second hand on the back on the chair. I feel his hands grazing my waist as I sink down to sit on his knees, and the subtle buzz in my extremities picks up. It's been, what? Four months since I was last touched like this? Much longer since I've been with someone significantly larger than me. Despite my dominant proclivities in the sack, there's a certain thrill that comes with sex with someone who, even considering my lethal skill set, could probably overpower me in close quarters. It's a complex blend of fear piquing my libido and the necessary trust making the whole thing feel somehow more intimate.

I trace Darius's jaw with one of my hands and catch his eye once more, silently seeking permission. He tilts his head up and starts leaning in, and I meet his lips more than halfway. My momentum forces his shoulders back against the chair, and he responds in kind, pulling me closer and into a deep kiss. Perhaps surprisingly in light of his goofy personality, he has an aggressiveness that I like. But it isn't too much, too soon, either. His lips and tongue are decisive, but not overly forceful. I sit up straighter to break away a short time later, and I let my impressed arousal show on my face. "Not bad," I reckon aloud. "Maybe not rabbit-worthy, but pretty damn good for a guy."

"You're all right yourself," he smirks. I re-initiate the kissing, slower this time, now letting my hands slide down below his collarbones. I falter for a split second, having to embarrassingly admit to myself that I'm just not used to flat chests anymore. Forging on, I bring my right hand lower and slip it under the hem of his shirt, splaying my fingers on his taut stomach. I'm just considering lifting the garment over his head when his mouth stills and he tilts his head back a little to see my whole face. "Are you sure?" he asks, curling his fingers behind my ear and jawbone.

I pull back a smidge. "Do I seem unsure to you?" I ask, a bit more defensively than I meant to. If I seem unsure, it's only because this isn't quite what I want, or who. But it will do. He will do. I justify this train of thought by reminding myself that he offered to be my distraction. He knows what he's getting into.

"Maybe a little," he admits.

I roll my eyes and maneuver my legs out of where they're wedged. When my feet contact the floor, I stand and pull a confused Darius up with me. I take a couple of sidesteps to my right until we're beside his bed, then forcibly shove him down onto it. His eyes widen, I think from arousal as much as surprise. So, he likes a dominant woman. Or an aggressive one, at least. Even being one myself, I can relate. I like a good fight. I throw a leg over him and sit down on his hips, then plant both my hands on his ribcage and lean forward. "Now?" I ask, raising a challenging eyebrow. Darius smirks a little and tries to sit up to kiss me, but I put more of my weight on my hands to pin him down. "What about you?" I retort. "You sure it's 'worth the bullshit'?"

The redhead flashes his signature grin and whispers, "Shut up."

He puts more effort into sitting up this time, and I don't resist. I shuffle back a little so I can sit comfortably in his lap, brushing over a noticeable bump in the process. I grin wickedly, first into his eyes and then down at his rather obvious boner. "Already?" I smirk, teasing a finger around it. "Feeling impatient?" I move my hand to unzip his pants, but he catches my wrist before I can.

"I've got lots of patience," he counters sassily. "You should know that." He reaches behind his neck and whips his shirt off, then immediately moves his hands to my hips and grasps my waistband. I squint down at his hands, not entirely following his intentions until he pops the button loose, yanks down the zipper, and leans back halfway onto the mattress.

"Shit," I say under my breath as he lifts my butt by the pants and starts to shimmy them and my underwear off of me. I swiftly maneuver to my knees and then back to my ass to assist in his efforts. I frantically kick my feet free and then shuck my socks while Darius deposits my bottoms on the floor. I get back to my knees and shuffle up his torso, his hands quickly finding the small of my back and helping to guide me the rest of the way. His head hits the pillow around the time I grab the headboard and pull myself the remaining distance, and I look down in time to see him gazing hungrily at my wet folds as I move my shaky knees into position on either side of his shoulders. He blinks back up and, catching me staring, shoots me a salacious wink. I narrow my eyes and goad him, "What's the holdup, oh virile redheaded man? You gonna put your money where your mouth is, or what?"

His lips split into a wide grin. "You mean put my mouth where my mouth is?"

I barely have time to sarcastically drawl, "Ha ha" before he cranes his neck and does just that. I gasp and shudder at the sensation suddenly shooting out from my clit and through my entire body. The little fucker ends it far too quickly for my liking and starts exploring the rest of my intimate area, swirling his tongue through my folds and around my entrance, and I find myself grunting impatiently almost immediately. I guess I should take it as a good sign because it means he likes it down there and is probably going to be attentive to detail, but it's been forever since I've gotten off by someone else's hand. Or mouth.

The boy's eyes flash up to meet mine briefly and, though they are full of mischief, he takes pity on me and returns to the more direct route. In mere moments, I'm involuntarily rolling my hips down against his face and weaving my fingers into his already messy locks to get a sure grip. I'm very quickly realizing that one thing is for certain: Darius may exaggerate his conquests, but not his capabilities. He knows what he's doing.

***o***

"Fuck, Johanna," breathes Darius, speeding up his hips. He's close. I slap his ass hard and then use that hand to aid his movement. "I'm gonna…" I dig my nails into the tender flesh to give him that extra push, making him grunt painfully. A few thrusts later, he exhales sharply and shudders on top of me. Gasping for air, he stills his hips and drops his forehead into the crook of my neck. He groans into my flesh a few times before slowly pulling out and rolling over to toss his second condom of the night in the trash. He turns back my way and lays his hand just below my bellybutton, still slightly breathless as he asks, "You need to finish?"

"Nah," I decline, "I'm nowhere near." An expression something like insult crosses his face, and I laugh and cup his cheek. "It's not like I wasn't enjoying it," I assure him. "Besides, you gave me plenty already."

His eyes look truly puppy-like when he offers, "I can give you more."

"I'm sure you can," I chuckle, ruffling his hair. "But I'm done."

Darius relents silently, lifting his hand from my abdomen. I shift gingerly so I can slide up the bed and sit up, and I must grimace a little, because his brow knits and he asks, "Did I hurt you?"

My mouth twitches. "No, not really. It's just been a while."

"Since your last guy," he posits.

"Mm hm." My eyes go to the ceiling as I do some mental calculations. "Gotta be close to two years by now." I flit them back over to Darius, whose expression is unreadable. "I started young," I admit.

"No judgment here," he says, eyes and voice soft.

"I know." A huge smile takes over my face, completely of its own volition, and I surge forward to kiss him deeply. The lack of judgment, it's really something he has on Katniss. Plus being of age and a fellow Peacekeeper, of course. This, while not ideal, is much less complicated. And I could definitely get used to it. I'm still probing his soft and now especially tasty tongue with mine when I flick my eyes up to check the time. I break away suddenly to exclaim, "Holy shit, it's after nine already?"

He smirks saucily. "Time flies when you're having fun, right?"

"That was like a solid 45 minutes, dude," I inform him.

"I told you, redheaded men." He gives me the eyes and brushes a hand over my breast.

"Yeah," I laugh, slapping it away, "that is really good for a guy."

He blinks, a curious expression coming over his face. "You keep saying that."

"Are you surprised?" I scoff. "You're the one who keeps calling me a homo." I run my hand over his decently meaty upper arm, tilting my head. "Though I think I just proved you wrong, didn't I?"

Darius lets out a small laugh. "You didn't have to prove anything to me, Jo. I believed you, you're just fun to fuck with." He shakes his head sharply, suddenly grinning. "I mean, fun to mess with. Though you're also fun to fuck with."

"You're not the first to say so," I bluntly reply. "Believe it or not, I get rave reviews too."

"Oh, I believe it," he declares. I smirk and move so he's forced onto his back and I'm on my shins and straddling his body, then bend down for one more bout of kisses. I keep them slow so it's not such a surprise when I lift my head out of his reach and slide out from under the covers to get to my feet. Still, Darius looks just a touch thrown when I turn back from grabbing my shirt from where it landed on his desk. As I pull it over my head, he asks, "You're not staying?" This is quite the conclusion to jump to, given I have to get dressed just to use the bathroom, but he's not incorrect. He reads me a little too well, sometimes.

I hesitate, using the time required to straighten my shirt and free the few bits of my shoulder-length hair stuck under my collar to mask my awkwardness. Finally, I simply answer, "…No." I collect my pants from the ground by my feet and start stepping into them, avoiding his gaze. For some reason, I feel the need to justify myself. I really shouldn't, if this is just a meaningless fuck. Despite this, I reason, "I want to sleep in tomorrow," glad for the excuse my day off provides me. "The beds are too small anyway," I add, catching his eye and hopping marginally to help hike the pants up over my hips.

"Yeah," he agrees. "I mean, if you need a lot of space."

"I do." In more ways than one. As much as my loneliness was part of what drove me here, I'm not in a cuddling mood, much less one for spending the night. I blink away again and scan the room, my conflicting feelings boiling over into mild frustration. "Where the hell is my bra?" I demand.

"Don't ask me," he snorts. "You're the one who threw it." He joins me in my visual search, and a few seconds later he says, "Oh." He points up to the clothing rack mounted on his front wall, where the bra appears to have snagged on some hangers.

"Huh," I grunt with a blush. I walk over and untangle it, releasing a slow breath and hopefully my emotions with it. I turn around and meet his dispassionate gaze once more. He doesn't appear hurt, but I feel another stirring of guilt in my chest all the same and round the bed to give him one last affectionate kiss. Whatever it takes to make myself feel a bit better about using him, I guess. Even if he knows that's what I'm doing. Still, I take my time and enjoy this final embrace. When I finally pull away, I quirk my mouth into a shy but genuine smile and say, "Goodnight, Darius."

"Night, Johanna," he replies, reciprocating the expression. I nod genially and head for the door, pausing only to surreptitiously stuff my bra under my shirt in case someone happens to be in the hallway.

I stare blankly at the wall when I first plop down on the edge of my bed, still unsure how to feel about what I just did. I'm not sure I feel anything, except sore in all the right ways. I grin despite myself and fall back onto the mattress, relishing the lingering phantom sensation of skin on skin that I hadn't felt in far too long. My mind may end up in even more turmoil now, but at least my body is somewhat satisfied. I'll sleep well tonight. I've almost forgotten what that feels like.

***o***

I spend a lot of time taking advantage of my new paramour while the affair is in its early stages. I mean, taking advantage of the fact that I have him at my disposal, though I suppose both are accurate. We both agree it's best to be discreet about the whole thing. It's not like I'm embarrassed about sleeping with him, but it's no one else's business and I don't want people jumping to assumptions about my feelings and motives. I wouldn't like the conclusions they would come to, accurate or not. It's easy to sneak into each other's rooms when we're next-door neighbors, and neither of us is especially vocal in bed, ironically enough, so there's no worries there. However, I have a feeling it's going to get out sooner or later. Going from spending over half our evenings at the Hob or in the Commune to only making the odd appearance is bound to raise some eyebrows.

As one might expect given those circumstances, it's almost two weeks before I next see Katniss and Gale at the Hob. I'm leaning up against a weight-bearing post, peeking over my shoulder to watch Darius interacting with a couple of local brewers, when I catch a glimpse of the poachers bartering at a nearby stall. My gut initially jumps at the sight of the girl before gurgling unhappily, and I awkwardly turn my head to face forward. I'm not sure if I'm happy to see her or not, only that I'm rapt and fighting off an illogical sense of guilt. If anything, I should be proud of myself for moving on and getting involved with someone else, and for not thinking about her too much lately. My new activities have been a great distraction from those types of thoughts, as I was hoping. They do say the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else. It's not uncommon for me to top, but hey, figuratively speaking.

"Hanna." The sound of Katniss's distinct gravelly voice not two feet from my ear makes me jolt in surprise.

I spin around and gasp, quite truthfully, "Shit, Katniss! You scared me."

She doesn't even acknowledge this comment, only remarks, "Haven't seen you around in a while."

"Yeah," I draw out, involuntarily flicking my eyes over to where I last saw Darius. He's still there, hand talking and generally being obnoxious. "I've been busy."

"Darius told me you liked that squirrel he cooked up for you when you first got here," she declares abruptly.

I blink, confused. "Yeah, so?"

The brunette sighs in frustration and fidgets, apparently flustered by my inability to follow her obscure train of thought. "I thought you might want to buy one," she rephrases, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. "I picked off a whole load of them today."

"Afraid the baker won't buy them all?" I grin obnoxiously.

"He only buys them if his witch of a wife isn't around," she grumbles. "Or when he can sneak away and meet us here, which isn't often. I don't usually hold them for him."

"All right, kid," I shrug. "Let's see what you got." Her lips purse and eyes narrow, but she says nothing, only rips open the bag so I can see for myself. I peek in and see a small pile of the critters, the top couple with an eye shot clean out. Curious, I rummage around to see if the same is true of the others. Upon finding she's five for five, I try not to let my awe show on my face and instead just drawl, "Well look at you, sharpshooter."

"You say that like it's a surprise," she comments.

It's not, not really, but I can't resist a good dig. "To be fair, you did hit a branch the only time I've seen you shoot," I remind her. She tilts her head down at me and glowers, but I just smirk, "I know you're a decent shooter. Just surprised by all the eye shots."

"Decent?" she barks. "What, you think I shot them all dead in the eye from ten fucking yards?"

"How am I to know?" I shrug innocently. "You're stealthy enough to get that close."

She stares for a few seconds, then shakes her head and declares, "Fine, you know what? I'll prove it to you."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah," she huffs, "if that's what it takes to get you to take me seriously." She aggressively fastens her bag and swings it onto her shoulder. She's so cute when she's angry.

"Just how are you gonna prove it to me?" I scoff. I have a pretty good idea, but I want her to demand my participation. It's easier to appear apathetic that way.

"I'm taking you shooting with me," she answers decisively.

"Shooting?" I repeat, genuinely surprised by her phrasing. "You go shooting just for fun?" She doesn't seem like someone who would have time for such forms of recreation.

"No," she retorts flatly. "But if I take you hunting, you'll scare all the prey away with your big mouth."

My big mouth turns into a big grin involuntarily at that flawless comeback, but I don't back down. "You're seriously gonna drag me out to the woods and shoot some shit so I'll bow at your feet, oh master archer?" I mock her. "That's pretty desperate."

"Desperate?"

"Yeah. Demanding people take you seriously only makes them take you less seriously," I state. "I'm a youngest child, I know. The only way to get people to respect you is to be useful to them."

Katniss eyes me quietly for a moment. "Is that why you became a Peacekeeper?" she finally asks. "So you can force people to take you seriously?"

"No," I chuckle wryly. "Peacekeeping was not my first choice. That and stonecutting are what all the losers get funneled into in Two." I look to the ceiling and muse, "Masonry, if you're artistic, and lucky. Central defense, if you're a nerd."

"So what was your first choice?" she pries.

I feel the life go out of my eyes and expression as my shoulders droop. I make eye contact and sigh, "Does it really matter?"

"Oh, poor little Hanna," she babytalks scathingly. "Has her dreams ripped away from her, has to run around with a gun instead." She goes back to her regular voice and scowls, "Tough life."

I suddenly lack the ability to speak, can barely even breathe. My unexpected spike of rage is so intense, I almost slap her. Instead, I breathe deeply but shakily through my teeth and try to wait out the blinding noise in my brain. When I trust myself to look at her, I see her recoiling with wide eyes. Yeah, she should be scared. "You know what?" I spit. "Fuck you." I move to walk away, but she grabs a fistful of jacket over my chest before I can go anywhere.

"Whoa," she interjects, putting on a brave face. "I was kidding. Sort of." My eyes only narrow, so she rationalizes, "I was just making a point, didn't realize that was such a sore spot."

"I already told you it was a job I didn't want," I growl.

"I thought you were just saying that because I refused your gift."

"That is why I said it, but that doesn't mean I was lying." My voices nearly cracks on that last word, and I blink away, my eyes landing on Darius. This definitely is not the first time I've preferred his company to hers in any given moment. It's starting to look more and more like I made the right choice. I don't bother catching Katniss's eye as I mutter, "See you." I try to push by her again, but she steps back to maintain her leverage, her hand still firm against my breastbone.

"Wait," she says. "Are you a good shot?"

"You wanna find out?" I sneer.

She smiles a little at her feet. "No. I'm just thinking, maybe it's kind of similar to archery. The aiming and stuff." I feel my murderous expression melting under her soft gaze, but it's at least partly because, once again, I don't follow. She detects my confusion and rambles, "I could teach you. How to shoot a bow, I mean. If you want." I smirk inwardly. I'm a pretty damn good archer already, but Katniss doesn't know that. Some of my amusement must show, because she smirks, "At least it gives me a reason to drag you out to the woods." I raise my eyebrows and she quickly clarifies, "I mean, so I can show off without seeming 'desperate.'"

I grin despite my still abating anger. "Now you're learning to be useful," I deadpan. Almost immediately, I realize I'm now the one on the verge of being offensive. "I don't mean to your family," I backpedal. "I mean to me."

"I know," she replies calmly. Then she smirks a little and says, "But I'm already useful to you."

"Oh, are you?" I challenge her.

"Yeah," she retorts, eyes playful. "Where do you get most of your meat?"

I have to stifle a laugh, because I'm a pervert. I sneak another look at Darius, who's already looking at me like I'm a meal. I can't really help but return the eyes. I glance back at Katniss, who's eyeing me confusedly. I shake the lust from my face and concede, "Point taken."

"So, do you want to go or not?" Of course I want to, but it's probably ill-advised. But come to think of it, maybe it's not. I'm sleeping with Darius now. I've got another outlet for my hormones, so maybe I can actually trust myself to be around the girl without doing anything stupid. Perhaps an unexpected benefit of my involvement with him is my increased comfort around her. Besides, I keep thinking I should make some more friends, hang out with people other than Darius and occasionally Purnia.

"Sure," I shrug optimistically. "Sounds like fun."

A smile starts sneaking onto Katniss's face. "Great. How about Sunday, after I'm done with Gale and my trading? It's the only day I'd have time to go when it's light out."

"Yeah, Sunday's best for me too," I agree. "When will you be done?"

"Maybe three or four."

"Okay. Should I just meet you here, then we can go as soon as you're done?" I suggest.

Katniss bites her lip and blinks away shiftily. "No." I almost laugh out loud. Of course. How would her handsome not-boyfriend react if he noticed her rushing through their hunting and trading and then running off with me? The sadist and shit-disturber in me wants to find out, but I want to avoid drama regarding Katniss right now.

"Okay," I say, still fighting to suppress a knowing smirk, "How about the tree where we first met? Think you can find it?"

"I know every nook and cranny of the woods within a small radius of the district," she states plainly. "Besides, it's hard to forget any place I almost died." That sobers me up quickly.

I hold her gaze meaningfully and attest, "I was never going to shoot you. I swear."

"Could've fooled me." Her poker face suddenly cracks and she jests, "Didn't know back then that you're all talk."

I narrow my eyes despite my smile, and warn her, "You are really asking for it, Everdeen."

"Asking for what?" she says, innocently batting her eyelashes. This kid, I swear to god.

"For me to put you in your place," I growl.

"You can do that anytime." She takes the lapel of my standard issue jacket in her fingers. "Just doing your job, right?"

I grip her wrist and pluck it from my jacket, my thumb slipping off the heel of her hand and into her palm. I pull my hand away slower than I should, I know. "I'll see you at the tree at four, then?"

"Yeah," she concurs, "I should be able to make that."

"Cool, it's a date." Admittedly, I say that just to get a rise out of her and see what she'll say.

"No, it's not," she counters immediately.

"You're right, it's not. You like boys, right?" Before she can even formulate a reply, I spin off her shoulder and back away from her, just tempting her to turn around and face me. She does. "See you then, sharpshooter." I stick my tongue out of the corner of my mouth and pantomime shooting an arrow through her heart, then turn and saunter off toward Darius. For the first time in a while, I find myself looking forward to a Sunday.

A/N: I may pound out one more chapter of this before returning to Lifeblood. I'm on a roll, here.

Thanks to D7P for the beta read and helpful advice.