43 - Final Six Interviews
Lola Amos, Host for the Hunger Games
"What in the world do you mean, the president's been attacked!?" She grabs the assistant by the shoulders and holds him in place. "It's the middle of a Quell! Who the hell would attack her in the middle of a Quell!?"
The assistant is on the verge of tears, blubbering between Lola's outbursts. He's probably one of the newer ones, not used to the behind the scene freakouts regarding the Games.
"I have people waiting outside for interviews!" she goes on. "How am I going to explain to these people, whose children are in possibly the most controversial Hunger Games yet, that I can't let them in?"
"I don't know," the assistant weeps.
"Does anyone in this building know anything!?"
The PA system above beeps. Lola hadn't heard the earlier announcement, too absorbed in making sure everyone was in place at each District for final interviews, and had heard the news from the assistant. It's been half an hour, apparently, since the initial announcement. She'll make certain not to miss this one.
An unfamiliar voice fills the room, and Lola strains to try put a face to it. "This is Gamemaker Becskei reporting from Gamemaker HQ. President Snow and Head Gamemaker Nero are both in critical condition and being taken to the medical ward for emergency treatment. The order has been given to continue the Games as planned."
Lola huffs. She fixes the skirt of her dress, specially made to resemble the little doll Tooru had given her less than a week ago, and turns back to her desk.
Gamemaker Becskei doesn't stop there.
"Due to an attempt at breaching Elysium by an unknown group, we ask that everyone please cooperate with the Peacekeepers in the vicinity should they stop you for questioning. We want to ensure not only the safety of our staff, but also our treasured guests and audience members, and we will inform you if any changes are made to the Games schedule."
The PA switches off. Lola's head spins at the news. An unknown group trying to breach the arena? Lola had been watching the feed of the big fight that broke out—it has to be connected to Octavia's mother somehow. Lola had so wanted to bring attention to Isabelle Eulane during her interview, but Octavia sidetracked her so easily with gossip about her love life. But it all makes sense. The woman's been on the run since before Octavia was born, after all. Settled in Ten for only a few years, and now she's missing again.
It can't be a coincidence that, just as Octavia's cannon was fired, an attack was launched on Gamemaker HQ. Lola chews the nail of her thumb and looks back over at the assistant. He squeaks and stands upright, probably expecting another screaming match.
She has a few eyes and ears around the Capitol, even buys information to use for interviews on tributes during training sessions. Lola knows people who can get to the bottom of this. She knows one person who won't resist something as big as this. She pulls a notepad out of her desk and scribbles a name and phone number. For added measure, she scribbles a three-digit number at the very bottom—a code she knows her contact will recognise. She strides over to the assistant and places it firmly in his hand, her gaze boring a hole into his skull.
"You call this man," she says lowly, "and you tell him to contact me the minute interviews conclude. Give him the number at the bottom of the note and do not say anything else."
The assistant audibly gulps. He stares at her like a deer caught in the headlights.
"Now," she growls.
He scrambles out without a word. Lola heaves a sigh and runs her hand down her face. All this chaos going on, and she still has to interview families mourning their children. At least it's only six families this time around, she reassures herself.
The chaos has passed, she tries to tell herself. All that remains is regular procedures, regular interviews. She even gets to save time by doing it face-to-face with four of the families. There's nothing to worry about anymore. So Celestia and Malvolia are in the medical ward; the show can still go on! In fact, the show has been ordered to do so!
She plasters the fakest smile she can muster on her face and exits her office. She makes her way to the elevator, where she'll stop at the lobby to pick up family members of the Capitol children remaining.
Lola's met with only seven people rather than the expected eight when she arrives. Luxor's parents, Morganite's parents, Croix's parents—and then just Gossamer's brother, smiling calmly yet also with a degree of smugness at Lola when she realises he's alone. Raime and Floresca Wormwood haven't deigned to show up for their son's biggest achievement thus far.
"If you'll follow me," Lola tells them. Croix's mother is already wiping at her eyes with a handkerchief. She'll definitely need to go through makeup before coming out onstage. "I'll lead you backstage and you'll be treated to snacks while you wait for your turns. And thank you so much for coming."
Darios Aricunai just sneers at her. He's clearly the most unhappy about having to be interviewed at all.
Lola leaves them behind once the arrive backstage, instead making her way to her chair as the audience slowly files in and find their seats. In front of her is two other chairs, no extras necessary since no more than two per tribute arrived, and she spends the few silent seconds in the darkness to fix her bangs and smooth her skirt once more.
An assistant comes out and clips her microphone to her bodice. She puts her earpiece in, making sure it's comfortable and out of sight, and then crosses one leg over the other.
The show must go on.
The lights come on and Lola gestures to the crowd, who applaud the sight of her. "Ladies and gentlemen, can you believe we're here already?" she announces. The crowd cheers. "Not even final eight, but a final six! The last day has been full of surprises, hasn't it?"
She fakes a laugh and listens for reports on how the Farringtons are doing. According to one stylist, Natania is too hysterical to even make pretty for the camera. Lola settles into her chair and waits for the crowd to quieten.
"Because of the special nature of this Quell, perhaps even this Hunger Games overall, the interviews are being broadcast live over the night sky of Elysium. That's right, our final six can see what their loved ones and fans have to say about them!"
The crowd oohs and ahs, settling once more.
"Nikostratos, Finnegan, Morganite, Luxor, Chambray and Gossamer," she lists off. Behind her a screen is projected, the lights dimming once more. "It's been such a wonderful journey with all six of them, despite how briefly we've known them. For our first interview, which will be live and in the studio, let's look back on some of our favourite aspiring Gamemaker's moments in the Games."
Suddenly the screen behind her flickers to an image of Croix, standing tall and proud at the reapings as Synthia greets him. It switches to his chariot costume, Daphne expertly cropped out of the image, and then they show footage of his time in the Games. The crowd cheers as clips of him and Gossamer flicker by, showing Croix exercising his intellectual prowess. Lola spots a few cringes in the crowd as footage of the owl throwing him in the air, spear and all, is played; they turn to pride, as Croix emerges victorious from the owl's stomach.
The final image is of him right now, sprawled out on the ground and laying in a pool of his own blood. His leg has left a thick trail from the cornucopia, where Gossamer left him for dead, and the demiboy can hardly see as harsh burns cover most, if not all of his face. He's in worse shape than most are around this point.
When the lights come back on, Elias and Natania Farrington are sitting on their seats across from Lola. Natania has her face buried in her hands, and Elias stares up at the image of Croix with pain in his eyes.
"Mr. and Mrs. Farrington," Lola says, voice soft, "thank you so much for coming here tonight."
Natania lets out a wail. Elias comforts her with an embrace across the two chairs. "It's the least we could do for our Nikostratos," Elias tells her.
"How did you react to the news of his reaping? I can't imagine how frightening the Quell twist to even think about him being involved in."
Elias sniffs. He sounds weary when he replies, "We weren't even home the day of the reapings. He—He was with his friend, I think—a classmate named Sturgeon. They loved to compete against each other…
"Natania and I were shell-shocked. He had such a bright future, Lola—he was set for the top Gamemaker university in the Capitol! If he hadn't been reaped—" Elias chokes himself to a stop and covers his face with his hand. His shoulders shake.
"You talk like he's already dead, with all due respect," Lola points out. Natania pulls away from her husband and sucks in a deep breath.
"Look at him!" she screeches. The feedback from her mic is enough to make Lola cringe. "Look at my baby! That Wormwood boy left him for dead! He could've disarmed him or knocked him unconscious! He won't survive the—"
There's a muffled cannon sounding off from the screen. Natania goes pale, her gaze slowly turning for Croix, and for a moment her expression is unreadable. The crowd is dead silent, all of them staring with Croix's mother at his now lifeless body.
Natania collapses out of her chair and wails with renewed despair on the stage. Elias joins her, rubbing her back as he tries to muffle his own sobs.
Lola can't force the smile through this—it's insensitive, for one thing—and she's suddenly all too aware that this isn't going to be easier than eight families.
Assistants come to escort the couple out as Natania begins apologising to Croix on the screen. The live feed shows the hovercraft coming in to pick him up, and Lola can only wait for the right moment to speak again.
Once the Farringtons are offstage, interview cut off far too soon, she says, "Ladies and gentlemen, a moment of silence for the Farringtons, if you will."
The audience complies. Just as she can see the Gardierre family waiting anxiously at the edge of the stage, Lola motions for the feed of Croix to turn off.
"As they're already here for interviews, the Gamemakers will allow Mr. and Mrs. Farrington to collect their child's body. I ask that you respect their wishes and not harass them in a media frenzy over this event. Please."
Lola sucks in a huge breath and continues on, "Now, we have our next interview coming up. Unlike the Capitolite families coming in to talk face-to-face, we'll be visiting District Six briefly for our next tribute's family. Let's take a look at Finnegan's journey so far, shall we?"
The Gardierres look visibly relieved that they don't have to go out yet. The lights dim again, the screen flicking through clips of Finn's time in the Games so far. The crowd chortles at the sight of him fainting onstage, so soon after volunteering for his sister. They're louder when they see his hazardous plane costume, almost falling out of the chariot every so often. But then the laughter turns to pity, as the image of Finn being wheeled out onstage for his interview by Morganite plays. They're reminded that he'd probably suffered the most pre-Games, had the biggest disadvantage, and now that they see the clips of him in the Games—helped by his allies out of the bloodbath, hiding in the fridge during the twist, and now, snacking on cold pasta soaked in mineral water with Luxor.
The screen splits into two, and suddenly one of Lola's staff is standing outside a house with three people in front of it. Seeing them now, Lola notices they look nothing like Finn. They may have the same hair and eye colours, at best, but the shapes of their faces are all wrong.
"Now, is this the Styx family I'm talking to?" she asks. The earpieces each family member wears is for sure relaying her questions. Finn's father, Calic, nods and glances at the staff member holding the microphone out to them.
"Ah, yes," he says into it. "Thank you for interviewing us, Ms. Amos."
"It's my pleasure, Mr. Styx," she tells him. "Your boy's gone through quite the journey during his time in the Capitol. Are you proud of him so far?"
Calic smiles, nodding once more. "Yes. Gia and I… Well, when we found out it was either Lux or Finn going, we were devastated. He's a kind soul, would never think to even hurt someone else."
"I'm only his step-mother," Gia adds, "but I've known Finn since he was five. I'm so, so proud of him for protecting his sister and for just…" Gia wipes at her eye. "I'm scared for him, Ms. Amos. The other children, they're ready to kill each other without a second thought. And Finn—Finn's heart wouldn't handle the pain of that burden."
"I understand," Lola tells her. "This must be a trying time for you, but at least he knows you're proud of him. I'm sure he'll put in his all to come back home."
"I hope so," Gia agrees. She puts a hand on the shoulder of the girl beside her, who can't possibly be any older than twelve. This must be Lux, Lola thinks. "He's a good boy. Such a good, wonderful boy."
The crowd coos at her statement. This is more what they were expecting—sorrowful families just wanting their kids to come home.
"Now, Calic," Lola starts, "I understand that Gia is his step-mother. Are you—"
"Adoptive father," Calic interrupts her. Lola's brows shoot up. No wonder they don't look alike. "I found him when he was just a baby. Named him after my own father. Even if we're not blood related, though, he's still my son. And I'm still proud of him for pulling through." Calic looks at the camera in a different way, like he's trying to convey he's addressing someone other than Lola now. "Finn, you're doing so amazing. Stay safe, okay?"
The camera moves for the child now, and she shrinks away from the microphone as Lola asks, "And you must be Lux, his sister. How are you feeling, sweetie?"
Lux purses her lips. Her face slowly scrunches up, and then she buries it against Gia's side.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Amos," Gia says softly. "Finn and Lux, they're best of friends. Lux hasn't been handling him going in her place all that well, I'm afraid."
On the screen beside the Styx family, Finn in the arena clutches at his chest and tries to yell up at the sky. Luxor shifts closer to him, comforting him as the boy's shoulders shake.
Lola prepares to wrap up the interview, but Calic jumps in for a final statement.
"Before you go, Ms. Amos, can I please say something to the parents of his… Well, to Morganite's parents?"
"By all means, Mr. Styx."
He sniffs, swipes at his nose, and says, "You've raised a wonderful daughter. She could've left my boy to suffer alone, but instead she stood by him in front of all of Panem. I can't thank you enough for giving him that kindness."
The screen swipes back into one, and then it dims. Lola stares back in the direction of the Gardierres, and they look absolutely beside themselves at the heartfelt thanks from, to them, a complete stranger.
Lola turns back to the crowd. "Speaking of Morganite," she says. "We're taking a look at her journey next, from its rocky beginning to its powerful present. I think, out of all the Capitol tributes this year, she's given us the most surprises during her time in the Games."
The lights dim, the screen flicking to a clip of Morganite mid-vomit during her reapings. The same clip of the chariots plays again, Morganite looking distressed in her costume, and then it turns into her interview—the gorgeous ensemble she'd been outfitted in, which she strutted with confidence. The crowd actually applauds when the image of her wheeling Finn up onstage plays again. Clips of her in the arena play, showing her fighting with all her might against Adrianne's alliance and eventually Cetronia herself. In a rare out-of-order showing, they end the look back on her journey with the clip of her pulling Cyber out under the clouds, honouring his last request.
Now the only image onscreen is Morganite in the present, her face so severely bruised and battered that one entire eye is closed up by the swelling. Gossamer is pointing at the upper eyelid, and she's holding her knife with a shaking hand. The bodies around them have already been collected.
The lights come back on just as Morganite looks up at the sky, and her parents sit across from Lola with differing expressions over the situation.
"Welcome to the interview, Mr. and Mrs. Gardierre." Lola smiles at them. "You must be very proud of your daughter for making it this far."
Alexandrite opens his mouth to speak, but stern Jourisme beats him to the punchline. "'Proud' is too kind a word, Lola," Jourisme says. "Up until now all she's done is embarrass herself in front of the whole country."
Lola's actually taken aback. Still smiling, she blurts out, "Pardon?"
"Dear," Alexandrite mutters. Jourisme glances at him, but ignores his attempts at getting her to listen to him.
"Regurgitating on live TV, all over her peers," Jourisme lists. "That absolutely scandalous outfit. Getting thrown around like a ragdoll during her one bright moment."
Jourisme throws her hands up and shakes her head, the disappointment clear as day.
"When I retired from escorting to have her, I expected a ladylike, obedient daughter. Instead she's turned into this mess that everyone else has had to look after."
"Now that's not true," Alexandrite interrupts her. Lola watches the exchange like a tennis match. "Look at how far she's come, Jourisme. She's rallied her peers, she's led them to a victory against a career. If all she walks out of that with is a bruised face and swollen eye, I'd say she's done incredibly well so far."
Lola clears her throat. "You two… seem to have differing opinions of Morganite?"
Alexandrite nods. "Like Jourisme said, she wants Morganite to be more ladylike. I, however, believe little Nite is just finding herself. We all go through that time in our lives where we want to see where we fit in the world. She's exploring her options, wants to follow her mother's footsteps but in her own way."
"Dancing to the beat of her own drum, is what she's doing," Jourisme grumbles.
Wow. Lola can't help wondering how this family functions with such opposing forces at the helm. No wonder Morganite did what she wanted for the most part before the Games.
"Well, if it's any consolation," Lola tries, "she's got quite the following in the Capitol. Right, folks?"
The crowd hollers in response. Jourisme turns beet red at the sight and crosses her arms in front of her chest.
"I didn't come here to be critiqued about how I want to raise my daughter, Ms. Amos," she says.
"And I'm not critiquing," Lola fires back. "I'm pointing out how much she's accomplished so far. She's in the final six, Mrs. Gardierre. Very few untrained tributes make it this far, and that's just among District children."
Alexandrite smiles knowingly at his wife. Jourisme huffs.
"But enough of that," Lola goes on. She looks up at the screen, where Morganite now looks hopeless at the words of her mother. "Do you want to say anything to her before your interview ends? I'm sure she's missed you after all this time."
Jourisme beats Alexandrite once more. "If you choose one time in your life to not make a mistake that will ruin everything," she says, "let it be now, Morganite."
And suddenly Morganite on the screen goes from hopeless to angry. She jumps to her feet, throwing her dagger to the ground, and Jourisme watches in horror as Morganite yells soundlessly up at the sky. Gossamer grins the whole time, clearly amused by what he's hearing.
At the very least, Alexandrite gets one statement in before the interview comes to a close. He holds up his hand and displays the ring on his finger, little morganite gemstones embedded along its band.
"I'm supporting you one hundred percent, Morganite," he says. It calms the girl somewhat, and then the couple are escorted offstage.
What a mess of a relationship, Lola thinks.
She's halfway through, though, and at least the next interview is for a District family. If she has to guess, they'll be the calmer interviews of the night. Less drama among the working class.
Three more, Lola. Just three more.
"And now we move on to the first of our Eight tributes remaining," she says. "Chambray certainly went unnoticed until she scored that twelve in training, and so far she's been quite the wildcard in the arena. Let's look back on her journey."
The lights dim. Quick images of Chambray being reaped, of being helped up onto the stage for Luxor's reaping by Ham, flash by. Then they switch to the chariot, where her ridiculous collar takes up half the headspace of the chariot. It changes to her interview gown, a wedding dress with her token as the centrepiece around her neck. And then, in a shocking display of brutality, it switches to her cooking the oats for Avita and Quatra in poisoned water. The shy girl looks cold and collected as Avita foams at the mouth, and she wastes no time ending Quatra's life as the other girl lays prone.
The crowd is eerily silent at the mere sight of it. Lola can't blame them. The girl took down a spy from one of the biggest espionage families in Panem. Until now, no one knew what even one of the X family members looked like. It's no easy feat, taking down one of their ranks.
The feed changes to the outside of the toppled building Gossamer buried her under, and Lola can just barely see the blanket he's covered her with. It blends rather well with the rubble, she thinks.
"The underdog of the Games so far, I'd say," Lola comments, breaking the silence. The crowd murmurs, half agreeing and half wanting Chambray to pass already.
Footage of District Eight begins to play, and it takes Lola a moment to realise the camera's been kept on as it's been hidden in a bag. She laughs nervously.
"Hello?" she calls. "Is anyone there?"
Screaming sounds out from the camera's mic, distant and anguished. From the small view the crowd has, a house is shown to be raided by Peacekeepers. Lola blanches.
"I don't believe we're meant to be seeing th—"
"Chambray Hemingway," comes a voice, most likely one of the Peacekeepers. "You're being detained under suspicion of rebellion against Panem."
"Callie, what's going on—"
"Silence!" A smack sounds out. Lola's hand flies to her mouth before she can stop herself. The camera is lifted somewhat, and now she can see what's happening. Chambray's twin is being dragged out of the house, hands cuffed behind him as the Peacekeeper drags him by his hair. His parents soon follow, the mother with a cheek that's slowly turning red. "You two aren't free of guilt, either."
"I'm sorry, Mom!" Calico sobs hysterically. It's the exact opposite of what Lola's read his emotional state to be. "I was scared! He said we'd be okay! I—I'm sorry!"
"Cham?" the father gasps. He gets dragged away by the Peacekeepers as well, and Lola looks back to the crowd with wide eyes. If she's just heard right, and if the crowd isn't stupid, then she knows exactly what they all heard.
The cameraman curses and switches off the camera. Everyone stares in stunned silence.
They've all just witnessed Chambray Hemingway, who's supposed to be in the arena, arrested for treason in District Eight. Live.
Lola looks over at the couple waiting backstage, wondering if the Aricunais are fit for live TV. Relope isn't quite beside herself yet, looking more stunned and angered by the revelation onscreen. Darios, though… Lola can't possibly figure out why Darios is smiling with so much satisfaction. Did he know all along? Did all of the Gamemakers know? Lola's head spins, the murmuring crowd slowly moving farther and farther away.
You have to keep going, Lola, comes the little voice in her head. Lola blinks, still stunned, and tries to stay in character. It's her earpiece, she reminds herself. Someone backstage is pulling her back to reality.
Lola clears her throat and looks back to the crowd.
"Now, now, everyone," she calls. The crowd slowly looks her way, silent again. "I'm sure there's an explanation for this, but tonight is a celebration of our final s—" She wants to smack herself. She forgot Croix. "Final five. We can't let ourselves be distracted from their accomplishments thus far."
There's a few quiet agreements. For the most part, the crowd looks nervous. Lola feels the same.
"Why don't we take a look back our Capitol sweetheart's journey thus far? Everyone was devastated when Luxor was reaped," she says, "but he's proven himself to be more than just a pretty face!"
The lights dim, casting a dull shadow over Darios's face as he grins. The screen behind her lights up with footage of Luxor being reaped as his escort screeches happily. Then it switches to his chariot costume, with its hideous pantaloons, before showing off his outburst at his interview. The crowd cheers anxiously at the clip of him shooting Gossamer's behind in the bloodbath, and they go awkwardly silent when a clip of him hugging Ch— Calico plays. The mood lightens with the final clip of him heroically removing debris from the fridge he'd shown Finn, and then finally it settles on him in this moment: Horrified at Calico's interview, looking more crestfallen than offended.
He knew, Lola realises.
When the lights come back on she's met with that same satisfied smile. Christmas came early for Darios despite knowing beforehand all he'd get was coal. He's just glad everyone else got it too. Relope has her arms crossed over her chest, her disappointment clear as day, but Lola can't tell who she's disappointed in.
Lola swallows a thick lump in her throat. "Gamemaker Aricu—"
"Let's cut the formalities, Lola," Darios interrupts. She's not even going to pretend to be cheerful over this. The man will probably be arrested mid-interview for what he's about to do. "We've just witnessed possibly the biggest act of rebellion since the Dark Days, and you're all ignoring it. You all knew about it beforehand."
"Darios, I can assure you—"
"Not you," he snaps. He gestures to the building, implying the staff. "Malvolia and her staff! You think no one noticed this farce? He exposed himself in his private session to us!"
The crowd gasps.
Relope scowls. "My Luxor was wrongfully reaped," she says. She turns her fury to Lola. "And you're just sitting here acting like nothing's wrong!"
Her earpiece buzzes, all of the staff being addressed. "Get them off the stage now!"
"If you ask me," Darios goes on, "this tradition has been defiled by our president and her Head Gamemaker. Back when we were beginning the Games as a society we would bring everything to a halt for the sake of what we're owed!"
Lola does the last thing she expects to. She lunges out of her seat and reaches for the mic on Darios's collar, determined to silence him. She's worked too hard for him to just ruin everything with his rebellious rhetoric thinly veiled as patriotic critique. Darios jumps out of his chair and points at Lola like it's an aha! moment.
"See?" he yells to the crowd. "Now she's trying to silence me!"
"You're scaring them!" Lola yells back. A message through her earpiece announces that the microphones have all been turned off, leaving only the front row of the audience to barely hear them. "Please, Gamemaker Aricunai, you must be reasonable about this!"
"What's there to be reasonable about?" Relope chimes in. Peacekeepers, all watched with a gleeful expression from Velour, storm the stage. "My son is going to die because those—those lackluster parents couldn't keep their problem child in check!"
The couple is escorted offstage by the Peacekeepers. Lola is left standing onstage and stressed beyond belief. She can't take much more of this. She can't take her final interview being with a Wormwood. Lola collapses into her chair, and her earpiece informs her that her mic is back on. Lola sighs hopelessly.
Velour Wormwood walks himself out onstage. He sits down, silent as a predator, across from Lola and gives her a pleasant smile.
"Ms. Amos," he greets her. Lola doesn't even bother pointing out that Gossamer's clips haven't played. "Shall we wrap this up?"
Lola gestures weakly to the screen. "Gossamer Wormwood, everyone," she drawls.
The lights dim a final time, the screen showing the uneventful reaping of Gossamer before changing to his feathery chariot costume. He appears dazzling at his interview, and then clips of him fighting in the arena flash by. Kicking Ham down, taking a hit for Morganite. Rushing Cetronia with the girls. Now it cuts to him in the present, and it's hard to miss the absolute look of disgust on his face—probably at the knowledge his brother is here. Lola can't imagine two similar people getting along much.
Velour looks smug as he says to Lola, "This is the biggest mess I've ever seen you make."
Lola cradles her head in her hands. "Thank you, Mr. Wormwood…"
"I suppose this is where I tell you how great and wonderful my little brother is, yes? How growing up with him was a dream?"
"If you would be so kind."
Velour smirks. "Well, it was nice to have a sparring partner who was more like a punching bag."
Wait… What?
Lola looks up at the man. Velour knows he has her full attention now. "Was never really on my level, Gossie," he muses. "The inferior Wormwood. The disappointing Wormwood, if you asked our parents. They were livid when they found out his career aspirations—a host for events, can you imagine?" He sighs wistfully. "Then again, not even his sexuality is free of our family critique."
Even the crowd is gobsmacked. Is this the right family? Is this the right Velour Wormwood?
"Oh! I actually had to laugh when he got the sickle to the arm. That's where I used to get him with the training swords—hilarious!"
She can't help herself. "Ah. Now a lot of things make sense."
Velour's smile becomes strained. "Excuse me?"
"I said a lot of things about Gossamer make sense now," she says, louder and with more purpose. Velour folds his hands over his lap, goading her on. "On the surface he's just full of himself, ready to use and get rid of others. But I see now that's just the result of something bigger."
He clenches his hands into fists.
"You don't even respect him," she goes on. "He's fighting for his life and using the skills so few children have access to thanks to his Peacekeeper family. Have you had to take a life in your career so far, Mr. Wormwood?"
Velour stares at her. His smile doesn't fall, but it's no longer smug or even kind. It's a blank mask that someone ready to strike would use, if only to keep up appearances in public.
"I asked you a question, Mr. Wormwood."
And somehow Velour answers. "I have not, Ms. Amos. Ideally I would never have to. You are correct about your assumption of my brother."
"My analysis, Mr. Wormwood. I graduated top of my class studying psychology while I began my hosting career. I know the catalysts of certain disorders when I see them."
Velour leans forward. "And what," he whispers, "have you diagnosed my brother with, Dr. Amos?"
She wants to say it out loud. She wants to say he's most likely developed Narcissistic Personality Disorder. She wants so bad to say that Velour and their parents are the cause of it. The favouritism of Velour, the abuse he's suffered at his brother's hands during training, the constant critiquing. It's right there. It's plain as day.
But she can't make this worse than it already is. Lola folds her hands over her lap and says calmly, "That's not for me to share on live television, Mr. Wormwood."
He leans back and smirks at her. He's probably assuming he'll get the answer later, when her thoughts are unguarded. "Fair enough. But I'll wrap up what I have to say for you so the night can end," he says. "True, I don't respect my brother. He's always been lesser to me, and that won't ever change. But I have no doubt he'll win."
Lola raises a brow.
"It's like you said, Ms. Amos—he's one of the very few to receive Peacekeeper training before going into the arena. With the Warwick boy gone, he's the only one with a sure chance of leading the victory march."
Velour calmly gets up from his seat, hardly waiting for Lola to dismiss him. She looks out to the crowd, who stare in silence. A few clap at an awkward volume, uncertain if they even should be clapping. Lola clears her throat, the earpiece abuzz with orders to end the segment.
She gets up from her chair and addresses the audience.
"Ladies and gentlemen, tonight has been a rocky night," she says. The audience agrees with her. "In light of the night's revelations, we ask that you please not spread misinformation regarding tributes and staff members. I'll see you all tomorrow for day six of the Games, and we'll see where the road takes us.
"I'm your host, Lola Amos. It's been a pleasure."
Her assistant is nowhere to be found when she comes back to her office. Lola searches high and low for any phones she can use to contact the person she's waiting for, but not a single one can be found. Even the landline, which should be plugged in, is missing the cable entirely.
Lola plants her hands on the desk and huffs. What in the world is happening?
Her door opens, and in walks a man she doesn't recognise. He shuts it behind him, straightens his jacket—and she can see blood on his dress shirt, dried and already staining the material. He looks down at her as he produces a folded piece of paper from his pocket, and Lola just knows it's the paper with her contact's number on it.
"You know," the man says, "you're not the only one who keeps tabs on Valerian St. Clare."
"Who are you?" she demands. Lola reaches under her desk—wait, where's her panic button? It's smooth as a baby's behind under there, save for the small chipped section betraying the removal of the button.
The man pockets the paper and leans against the door. "I'm Horace Becskei, Ms. Amos," he tells her. "I was with the president when the attack went down on Gamemaker HQ. And I'm not letting you shove your nose where it doesn't belong."
She gawks at him. "Excuse—"
"You're excused," he stops her. "You have no reason to know what happens from the source—your job is to report what you're told and nothing more. After what I just witnessed, though, you might not even be suited for that anymore."
Who the hell is this man? Is he firing her? Can he fire her? Lola drags her nails along the desk surface. This night is just getting worse and worse.
"I'm giving you until the finale, Ms. Amos," Horace tells her. He reaches for the door handle and pauses, before adding, "The president and the Head Gamemaker are both in critical condition. We know for certain one is expected to pull through with minimal complications by the time of a victory tour, but the other…" He purses his lips. "We'll see what your fate is after her own becomes apparent."
And with that, Horace Becskei exits the office of Lola Amos.
Well, that's our finalists and their interviews done. I changed the schedule to every few days having an update, so the next one will be the 15th for me in Australia! I'll see you all then, and we'll leave with a QQ and eulogy.
QQ #38: We all know Finn's interview was the calmest, but who do you think had the most hectic interview?
Eulogies:
6th Place: Nikostratos Croix Farrington, C-District 3, 17 - Sent by CelticGames4
Passed away from his injuries
Croix was a fun one to write pre-Games and even during the Games, contending with a certain character for the title of chessmaster. He had a smug charm to him that I liked putting into his POVs, and I hope I did him justice. Thanks for sending him, Celtic!