Alfonso Cadel-18 (District 1 Male)
I don't think I've ever been more nervous in my entire life than I am right now. And I honestly can't figure out why.
I mean, this is supposed to be the easy part. All I have to do is walk out on stage and smile. Maybe shoot a couple of suggestive glances Andromeda's way. And then spend a few minutes flirting with her and talking about my favorite subject, me.
Seriously, it doesn't get much easier than that. At least not for me. So why in the hell am I so nervous?!
"You've got five minutes, Alfonso," announces my stylist, Vannak. His hard, dark-brown eyes giving me a thorough once over as I stand there like a statue and resist the urge to fidget with my stupid bowtie.
"Thank you, Vannak," I mumble, my voice low and distracted, my eyes drifting back and forth between his hard, unforgiving face and the elegant crystal chandelier dangling from the ceiling above. My angst level rising by the second as each little tick of the clock brings me one second closer to the most important moment of my life.
"Is everything ok?" he asks, his voice low and passive, his body language screaming at me not to answer the question he felt obligated to ask.
"Of course," I lie, my voice shaky and uncertain. A fun, flirty smile plastered on my face despite the flock of pterodactyls fluttering around in my stomach.
"Has anyone ever told you you're a terrible liar, Alfonso?" asks a soft, excited, feminine voice from somewhere behind Vannak.
"Dahlia," he mumbles, his eyes bugging out of his head as he stares past her and down at the breathtaking goddess in the stunning, strapless, form-fitting dark-purple dress standing a few feet behind my mentor. "And Cleopatra. I was wondering when you were going to show up."
"You know me, Vannak. I like to make an entrance," she purrs, her voice dripping with seduction as she blows him a playful little kiss.
"You also like to flirt with anything that moves," says a second, slightly more subdued voice from a little further down the hall.
"Oh, don't be jealous, Aquilina," she coos. Her tone shifting from sultry and seductive to light and playful while still dripping with lust as she pulls an equally alluring young woman with long, dark black hair and flawless copper skin into her arms before planting a deep, needy, wanton kiss on her perfect lips. "You know I'm just playing. I would never dream of acting on a flirt without including you."
"You're damn right you wouldn't," she laughs, a wicked grin on her lips as she pulls Cleopatra back in for another searing kiss.
"Get a room, you two," groans Dahlia, the smile on her lips effortlessly offsetting the annoyance in her voice.
"We already have a room. Don't we, Alfonso?"
"Yes," I croak, my voice low and hoarse as I stand there and stare at the two of them like an idiot.
"Oh, no, they don't.
"The two of you aren't playing in here, Cleopatra. I need to have a word with my tribute. And I'm not even going to try to compete with the two of you for his attention."
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that, Dahlia. I'm more than capable of multitasking," I say, the words slipping out of my mouth before I can stop them. Earning me a playful giggle from Cleopatra and a slightly annoyed little eye roll from Dahlia.
"See, Dahlia. Alfonso doesn't have a problem with us using his room to play."
"That's because Alfonso is a nervous teenager with a libido to rival yours. He's not thinking clearly. Now, get out!"
"Spoilsport," she pouts, a playful grin on her face as she blows me a kiss before taking Aquilina by the hand and dragging her off in the direction of the District Four dressing rooms. Leaving me alone with Dahlia and a very amused-looking Vannak.
"It's good to see those two haven't changed. I'll give you guys some privacy."
"Thank you, Vannak.
"Oh, and you did an amazing job on his outfit. The crowd is going to love it."
"I can't take all the credit. He's the one who makes it look that good."
"Still, you did a phenomenal job. You should be proud."
"Thank you," he says, his voice so soft and polite that I have to do a quick double-take as he slips out of the room to make sure the words came from the same man who screamed at me a few minutes earlier because sat down with my jacket on.
"How are you feeling, Alfonso?" she asks, her question drawing my eyes away from the now empty door and back to her.
"I've never felt better," I say, forcing myself to smile confidently despite the ever-growing flock of pterodactyls buzzing around in my stomach.
"Are you sure? Because a few minutes ago, it looked like you might throw up."
"That was before the show," I joke, my voice low and confident as I stare down into her sparkling silver eyes with my trademark smirk etched on my lips.
"Men," she giggles, a small, playful little smile on her lips as she reaches out and gently adjusts my tie for me just as the first soft, soothing notes of the warning bell start to ring out from every corner of my dressing room. "Well, at least you're not nervous.
"Now get out there and wow the pants off these people. Remind them why you're still the betting favorite to win this thing."
"And why am I the betting favorite?" I ask, my tone light and flirty as I slip ever deeper into suave Alfonso mode as I fall in step beside her.
"Because you're the best," she whispers, her eyes lighting up as she leans in and gives me a soft peck on the cheek for luck before passing me off to the stage manager and sauntering off towards the green room.
Alright, Alfonso, you can do this. Just remember why you're here and keep your eyes on the prize.
Andromeda Pike (Mistress of Ceremonies)
"Thank you, Panem! And welcome to the tribute interviews for the one-hundredth annual HUNGER GAMES!
"Tonight is a special night. It's the kind of night that only happens once in a lifetime. And it will leave an impression on each of us that we will never forget. In the immortal words of the late, great Caesar Flickerman, 'We have never seen anything like this before ... And we will never see anything like it again.'
"But you already know that. That's why you're here. Isn't it?" I ask, my voice low and bubbly as the crowd explodes in a round of raucous, stage-shaking applause. "Of course it is! You'd have to be a fool to pass up the chance to experience this for yourself!
"So, let's not waste any more time with pointless small talk, and let's start making some memories.
"Now, my first guest is one I'm sure you all know well. He burst onto the scene with an impressive showing at his reaping, and he's been turning heads and stealing hearts here in the Capitol ever since. You know him. You love him. Alfonso Cadel!" I scream, my voice trembling with excitement as I and everyone else in the room wait with bated breath for Alfonso to make his grand entrance.
And what an entrance it is. After making us wait for fifteen agonizingly painful seconds, he finally struts out on stage with a calm, confident grin plastered on his face and a seductive glint burning in his captivating gray eyes. And the crowd absolutely loves it.
Though, not nearly as much as they love seeing me blush like a schoolgirl when he takes me by the hand and plants a soft, playful little kiss on my knuckles before shooting me a suggestive wink as he slides into his seat.
"Now that was an entrance," I coo, the crowd erupting into another round of raucous, earth-shaking applause as I sit there and trade flirty glances with Alfonso for a few seconds while we wait for the cheering to taper off enough that I can continue.
Which it eventually does — allowing me to breeze through the polite small talk portion of things while trying to work up the nerve to ask him the only question anyone in Panem actually wants me to ask.
"So, Alfonso, tell us, is there anyone special waiting for you back home in One?"
Helena Valentine-18 (District 2 Female)
I'm not sure how I'm going to get through this. Just thinking about it makes me sick to my stomach. So there's no way in hell I'm going to be able to actually walk out there on stage and talk to Andromeda. Not with the whole world watching.
Talking to my allies is hard enough, but this, this is impossible. It's basically my worst nightmare come true. And I have no choice but to go through with it.
"This really is the circle that Dante overlooked."
"What was that, Helena?" asks my escort, Adrianna. Her soft, innocent little question snapping me back to reality in time to see Alfonso strut confidently off the stage with a smile and a wink before being replaced by a surprisingly calm and relaxed-looking Shimmer.
"Oh, nothing," I mumble, my eyes drifting off the screen and onto the back of Bellatrix's head as I silently kick myself for being careless enough to let that slip out.
"It didn't sound like nothing."
"Well, it was," I say, my voice curt and dismissive as I silently pray that she'll drop it and leave me alone.
Unfortunately, she sees right through me. And instead of dropping it and letting me be, she decided to press the issue.
"Has anyone ever told you that you're a terrible liar?" she whispers, her soft, pink eyes bleeding concern as she takes me by the hand and gently pulls me out of line before leading me away from the other tributes so we can talk in private. "Now, please, tell me what's wrong. I can't help you if you won't talk to me."
"You can't help me anyway, Adrianna," I say, my voice flat and even despite the white-hot knot of fear burning in the pit of my stomach. "No one can help me. I'm a lost cause."
"Why do you say that?"
"Because I am," I whisper, my shoulders slumping in defeat as I stand there with her hand on my arm and fight back the urge to cry. "I've always been a lost cause when it comes to stuff like this."
"I think you're being too hard on yourself, Helena. So you're not good with crowds. That's fine. Most people aren't."
"It's not the crowd I have a problem with," I whisper, my resolve hanging by a thread as I turn back and watch as Shimmer is ushered off the stage and replaced by the attractive and bubbly control freak that is Bellatrix.
"Then what is it?" she asks, her eyes darting off of me and onto the clock on the wall as it starts to slowly tick down from three minutes. "You can tell me. But you have to do it now if I'm going to help you."
"It's the people."
"I'm not sure I understand."
"And I don't know how to explain it to you. That's part of the problem. I don't know how to — talk — to people. It's not something I've ever had to do."
"And now you have no choice, and that terrifies you. Doesn't it?"
"Yes," I whisper, my voice quivering with fear, my hands shaking in rhythm with the pounding of my heart as a small dusting of tears sneak past my defenses and start to stream down my face. "I've already screwed up twice, and I'm terrified that I'll do it again."
"You're not going to screw up, Helena," she whispers. "All you have to do is go out there and be yourself; Andromeda will do the rest."
"But what if I do? What if I get out there on stage and freeze up like I did during the Reaping? What if I say something stupid?
"Oh, god, what if I do both?!"
"You won't."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because I believe in you, Helena. And I know there's nothing you can't do if you put your mind to it."
"I wish I was as confident as you are."
"Confidence comes with experience, and you'll get plenty of that once you win the … games," she says, her sentence trailing off into oblivion. The playful smile on her lips warping into a concerned frown as Bellatrix storms off the stage in disgust with nearly a minute left in her interview. Pushing through the two of us on her way back to her dressing room, sending me tumbling to the ground in a heap and drawing an exhausted sigh from Adrianna.
"What was that about?" I ask.
"I'm not sure, but I need to go find out," she mumbles, helping me back to my feet and passing me off to the nearest producer before jogging off in the direction of Bellatrix's dressing room with a disgusted-looking Alexander hot on her heels.
"... next guest, the indomitable ice queen of District Two, Helena Valentine!"
Callidus Andronica (District 3 Mentor)
"Sorry that took so long," I mumble, an annoyed sigh slipping past my lips as I carefully hand Numerius her drink before sliding back onto the couch next to her with an adorable little huff. "What did I miss?"
"Not much," she says, her eyes glued to the massive screen at the front of the room as she takes a small, careful little sip of the fruity monstrosity she calls a drink.
"Really?" I ask, my eyes rolling into the back of my head in euphoria as I take my first, long, slow sip of scotch.
"No," she laughs, a wicked little grin on her face as she takes another sip of her drink. "You actually missed quite a lot."
"Of course I did. Would you care to catch me up?"
"Let's see. Bellatrix lost her shit and stormed off stage in the middle of her interview.
"Helena stumbled through one of the most awkward yet endearing interviews in Hunger Games history.
"Oz spent three minutes stroking the Capitols ego while playing up the small-town boy card. Which worked even better than he thought it would.
"Cypher almost made it through his interview without calling Andromeda an idiot. Almost being the operative word.
"The girl's from Four — who are basically interchangeable in my mind at this point — both spent three minutes talking about how beautiful the Capitol is, and how thankful they are for the chance to be here to compete in the Hunger Games.
"And then there's Hector. Who's spent the better part of the last two minutes trying to convince everyone watching that he's not the lost cause he's been pretending to be for the last few days.
"You know, little stuff like that."
"Hold on a second. What happened with Bellatrix?"
"Well, I'm not entirely sure. I wasn't really paying attention."
"Of course, you weren't," I say, a playful grin on my lips as I lean back into the soft, welcoming embrace of the greenroom couch and take another sip of my drink as I wait for her to respond.
"Shut up," she giggles.
"But, the general gist is, Bellatrix got pissed when Andromeda asked her how it felt to share a district with someone as beautiful and talented as Helena. She told her she didn't want to talk about Helena; she wanted to talk about herself.
"So, Andromeda acquiesced. She asked her how she felt about being outscored by Sarah Beth.
"And Bellatrix lost her shit."
"I can't believe I missed it," I say, my voice slipping effortlessly into pouty little kid mode as my cousin rolls her eyes in annoyance. "What did Alexander do?"
"What do you think he did? His face turned a disturbing shade of red, and he ripped a tray full of drinks and hors d'oeuvres out of an avox's hand and threw it into the wall before storming off after her."
"That explains the mess," I laugh, my eyes drifting over to the far side of the room where a trio of avoxes are trying to quietly clean up his mess without disturbing us.
"The worst part is, that ended up being a massive overreaction on his part. Because Andromeda managed to spin what happened as an emotional outburst from a fearless competitor who desperately wants to make her victor mother proud of her. And the crowd ate it up."
"Damn, she's good.
"How did she react to our kids?"
"About how you'd expect. Oz had her eating out of the palm of his hand just like he does everyone else. And Cypher was doing ok until he slipped up and called her an idiot.
"Actually, I believe his exact words were, 'you must be the stupidest person in Panem, and that's saying something.'"
"Of course," I mumble, the last few delicious, smoky swallows of my scotch slipping past my lips and rolling down the back of my throat into my stomach as Hector offers everyone a timid little wave before darting off the stage as a pair of dress-uniform-clad peacekeepers drag his district partner Shirley out to replace him.
"But we can worry about that later. I've been waiting for this all week, and I don't want to miss a second of it."
Caspian Ashwood (President of Panem)
"What is he hoping to accomplish by acting like this?" I ask, my eyes glued to the train wreck unfolding below me as Andromeda does her best to coax Shirley into talking in complete sentences without making an even bigger ass of himself than he already has. "Does he not understand how important this is?"
"I'm sure he does," whispers Tranquila, her eyes darting back and forth between the shit-show on stage and the gaggle of former champions sprinkled throughout the crowd. Most of whom will be dead in just a few short hours. "I mean, he would have to be the dumbest person alive not to."
"That's a fair point," I concede, my eyes drifting off of him and over to the third occupant of our luxury box. A squat, fleshy little man with massive arms and a ludicrous midnight-blue walrus mustache. "Though I'm not sure if it makes it better or worse.
"Commander?"
"Yes, Mr. President?"
"I believe Mr. Gutters has embarrassed himself enough for one night. Would you be so kind as to have your men get that stupid thug off my stage?"
"Of course, sir," he replies, his body groaning in protest as he slides his mammoth frame off his stool before slowly waddling off to carry out my order.
"Oh, and would you be so kind as to have one of the avox out there bring us another bottle of champagne? My delightful guest here has a prodigious thirst, and I'd like to make sure it's thoroughly quenched."
"Of course, sir," he huffs, his breathing coming in short, jagged little bursts, his face red with exhaustion after covering the monumentally impressive five and a half feet between his chair and the door.
"Thank you, commander," I say, my tone light and playful as I slide back into my chair and wait for him to exit the box before turning my attention back to a very concerned and uncomfortable-looking Tranquila.
"Is everything ok, love?"
"What do you think?" she growls, her soft, sad silver eyes glistening with tears as she stares down at the stage as Shirley is gently escorted off of it with an annoyed scowl plastered on his ugly face.
"I think you're still mad at me," I say, my eyes drifting off of her and down onto the stage as Dana walks timidly out for her interview. Her eyes glued to her feet as she shuffles slowly across the stage before plopping down into her chair and waiting for Andromeda to ask her a question.
"What was your first clue?" she asks, her words dripping with venom and hurt as she continues to stare down at the faces in the crowd.
"The fact that you haven't slept in our bed in four days."
"That's because I haven't slept in four days, Caspian. I don't have time to sleep. I'm too busy dealing with the shitstorm you dumped in my lap because Tiberius finally grew a spine."
"And you blame me for that?"
"Of course not."
"Then what is it?" I ask, refocusing myself on her and her alone as Dana's interview quickly veers off into boring territory despite Andromeda's best efforts to get her to open up about her issues with Cypher and the rest of her allies.
"What did I do to make you hate me?" I ask, my voice low and quiet as I stare across the box at the woman I love.
"I don't hate you, Caspian," she says, a steady stream of tears streaking down her soft, freckle-covered cheeks. "I love you. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone in my entire life.
"And I'm terrified of how easy this has been for you. You didn't hesitate to order me to have Shirley killed in the bloodbath. You didn't flinch when deciding to murder more than eighty percent of the living victors and scores of innocent people who will get caught in the crossfire at the gala tonight."
"That's because I can't afford to flinch or hesitate when making those kinds of decisions. I have to make them then and there, and then I have to live with the consequences."
"But it's not supposed to be that way. You wanted to change the way Panem worked. You wanted to make it better for everyone."
"And I still do. But in order to do that, I have to wipe the slate clean first. And that has to be done with blood. It's the only way we'll be able to make our vision for Panem's future into a reality.
"But it's not worth doing if you're not with me. So just say the word, and I'll call it off. The hit on Shirley in the bloodbath, the thing with the victors tonight, all of it.
"Tell me what you want me to do, and I'll do it. Because none of this is worth doing if it means losing you."
"You really mean that. Don't you?"
"Of course I do," I say, my voice low and soft as I pull her into my lap and plant a soft, sensual little kiss on her trembling lips as she sobs into my touch.
"Just tell me what you want me to do."
"I ... I want you to make our dream for Panem a reality."
"Then I will," I whisper, my lips curling into a smile as I pull her down into my chest and let her have a good cry as I silently thank my lucky stars that she didn't call me on my bluff.
Leandra Chandri-18 (District 6 Female)
I don't think I've ever been more proud of Dana than I am right now. She's never been good at talking to people or expressing herself in a healthy and normal way. So it would have been easy for her to slip into snarky bitch mode and take a shot or two at Andromeda.
And there were a couple of times during her interview when I thought she was about to do just that. Especially when Andromeda kept talking about how sexy she looked in the disgustingly revealing little dress her stylist made her wear.
But she didn't. She sat there and bit her tongue like a good girl would, and she made it through her interview without causing a scene. I just hope I can do the same.
"Good evening, Miss Chandri. It's a pleasure to meet you."
"Trust me, Andromeda, the pleasure is all mine. And please, call me Leandra. Everyone else does."
"Even little Dana?"
"Well, no," I say, my voice low and just a little shy as I stare down at my feet. "Dana and I have nicknames for each other, and we usually use those. Unless one of us is mad at the other. Then we give each other the full-on mom treatment."
"Ok, I have to ask. What's the mom treatment?"
"You've never heard of the mom treatment, Andromeda?" I ask, a playful, mischievous little smile spreading across my lips.
"I don't think I have."
"Then you should count yourself lucky. The mom treatment is what one of us gets when we cross a line, and it involves full names, raised voices, and some very angry body language."
"Would you care to demonstrate for us?"
"Oh, no, I couldn't," I say, my voice light and playful, my body tensing up as my eyes silently plead with her not to make me do it.
"Oh, come now, Leandra, I'm sure it's not that embarrassing."
"It's not that it's embarrassing. It's just not something you can do on a dime.
"Besides, slipping into it might mess up my makeup, and I don't think my stylist or prep team would ever forgive me if I did that."
"You're probably right, dear. I've known your stylist for a few years, and he is by far the single fussiest person I've ever met. But his results speak for themselves," she says, motioning for me to stand up and show off his amazing work to the crowd.
"I mean, seriously, look at what he did with you, Leandra. He took one of the hottest tributes in this year's field and made her into an absolute knockout. You are a goddess come to life.
"Isn't she, folks?!" she asks, drawing an approving roar from the majority of the crowd, along with a few unwanted catcalls and demeaning comments from a handful of drunk pigs in the front row.
"I mean, I'm not one to harp on things like this. But you are seriously hot, Leandra. You probably have to beat the boys off with a stick back in Six."
"Actually, I don't really have that problem. The boys tend to stay away from me. So do the girls."
"I refuse to believe that."
"It's true. Between my day job at the bakery, my night job at the hovercraft factory, and my full-time job keeping Dana out of trouble, I just don't have time for things like that."
"That's too bad. Though I imagine all of that will change once you win the Hunger Games. You'll have your pick of any man or woman in Six. And all the free time in the world to spend with them."
"That's a nice thought, Andromeda. But it's not for me."
"And why not?"
"Because I'm not going to win the Hunger Games. Dana is.
"She's changed me in so many amazing little ways, and she's saved me from myself in more ways than I can count. She's the most important thing in my life. And that's why I'm going to do everything I can to make sure she's the one who makes it out of the arena.
"Because she deserves it more than anyone else in the world."
"I'm sure she does.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Leandra Chandri. ..."
Pallas Eve Arguatha-18 (District 8 Female)
"What if she asks me about what happened with Garron?" I ask, my eyes red and puffy, my cheeks slick with tears as I stand there with Dayana and watch Liz breeze through her interview.
"There's no if about it, Pallas," she says, her voice soft and low as she stands there with her hand on my shoulder and a sad little smile on her lips. "Garron is the only thing she'll want to talk about. It's the only thing anyone wants her to ask you."
"What do I do?" I ask, my voice quivering in fear with every word, my heart pounding in my ears.
"Well, that depends on you," she coos, her voice soft and low as she reluctantly tears her eyes away from Liz's interview to focus on me. "You have two options.
"You can simply refuse to answer her Garron-related questions. Which allows you to control the flow of the conversation but could, and probably will, backfire in a major way with the crowd."
"Or?" I ask, my heart pounding so hard that I have to strain to hear her over it and my out-of-control breathing.
"Or, you can steer into the skid. You can answer all of her questions and share as much about what happened that night as you feel comfortable sharing.
"Doing so will endear you to the crowd in a way that no other tribute can even dream of. You'll have sponsors lining up for the privilege of supporting you in the arena. And, for better or worse, you will be the talk of the town tonight."
"But?"
"Everyone in Panem will know what happened. Every person in Panem, every tribute going into the arena with you, will know every sorted detail of what that monster did to you that night. ... Including Luciana.
"And you have to be able to live with that."
"How?"
"That I can't tell you. Just like I can't tell you which option to go with.
"I can give you advice, but I can't tell you what to do, Pallas. I won't. Not with something like this."
"Ok," I say, my voice low and terrified as I stare down at my feet for a few seconds before looking up at the line of tributes in front of me. My eyes instinctively scanning the crowd for any sign of Luciana.
But I can't find her. I spend nearly a minute scanning and rescanning every face I can see, but I keep coming up empty. She must be back with her escort or her mentor getting some last-minute advice. Or maybe with her stylist getting her hair and makeup touched up before her big moment.
Not that it really matters. The result is the same either way. I don't get the chance to see her beautiful face one last time before Liz's interview ends, and I'm forced to walk out on stage with my heart thumping in my ears and no clue how to handle what's about to happen to me.
"Well, here goes nothing. ..."
Luciana Bay-17 (District 10 Female)
"Now, Luciana, I understand you have a special message for a special someone watching back in District Ten. Would you care to share that with us?"
"I would," I say, my voice low and soft, my mind still racing with the painful, disgusting, heartbreaking implications of what happened to Pallas during her interview. "If you'll allow it."
"Of course, we will, my dear. This is your time. You can use it however you wish."
"Ok," I say, my heart plummeting into my feet as I take a deep, calming breath before turning to face the half a zillion cameras in front of me.
"Dad, I know I said some incredibly mean and hurtful things to you before I left for the Capitol," I say, my words coming out in soft, short, painful little bursts as I fight back the urge to cry. "And there's nothing I can say that will undo that.
"I was stupid and selfish, but I was also afraid. I was terrified that I would never see you or mom again, and I didn't handle it like I should have. I lashed out at anyone and everyone I could find, and you were the easy target.
"You didn't deserve that, and I hope and pray that I make it home so I can apologize to you in person. But if I don't, if I meet my end in the arena, fighting for the greatness and glory of Panem, I hope you can forgive me.
"I love you, dad. I always will.
"Thank you, Andromeda," I say, my composure shattering into a million tiny pieces as I sit here in my chair and sob softly.
"You are most welcome, my dear. And, for what it's worth, I'm sure your father is incredibly touched by your message. And I know he forgives you.
"Doesn't he, folks?" she asks, her soft, sad little question drawing an outpouring of emotion from the crowd as some of them begin to openly weep as they sit there and watch me sob quietly.
"Thank you, Andromeda.
"That ... that means a lot to me."
"Any time, my dear.
"Ladies and gentlemen, Luciana Bay!"
A/N: And so ends the Tribute Interviews. So, this was a bit of a different take on this part of the Games, and I hope you all enjoyed it. And I'm curious what you think of it. Again, I know it was different, and we didn't see all of the tributes, but I do have a method to my madness and all will be revealed in time. I promise :)
Anyway, we're officially in the home stretch for the start of the Games, we only have two chapters left before the bloodbath, and I can't wait to show you all the arena and what I have in store for the Games themselves. And thank you again for reading, it really does mean a lot to me that so many of you read the story.