Chapter Fifty; Enough

(Stephanie's POV)

The interview was succinct and short; exactly as Stephanie had wanted it.

Seneca didn't try and trip her up or lead her into traps as she suspected he might. His questions were simple, and Stephanie could have sworn that at times he had tried to help her when she stumbled over her lines. But when she would glance at him confused, he would only smirk and she would scowl in response.

The interview itself wasn't so difficult. It was the same questions as before. Stephanie began to wonder what on earth the Capitol people found so interesting about all this. As far as she could tell, she was being asked the same questions over and over again.

But no matter, she did her best to smile and be polite. Even when she caught Seneca on more than one occasion, throwing a smug look over her shoulder where she knew Haymitch was, because she could practically feel his eyes on her.

"Well it's been a pleasure, Miss Trindlesworth. May the odds be ever in your favour for the upcoming Games." Seneca closed the interview and one of the cameramen nearby yelled, "Cut!" And the cameras stopped rolling.

All around a new bustle of energy began as equipment was packed up, and it seemed the general relief of the crew was palpable.

Stephanie turned to leave…just to get out of the room.

"What? No goodbye," Seneca asked.

She turned, despite better judgement telling her to walk on. She marched over to him determinedly, stopping when she was practically touching him.

It wouldn't do to have those around them hearing what she had to say.

"Why are you here?" She stressed each word carefully.

For the briefest of moments he had appeared shocked when she had approached him, but he reined it in immediately, covering it with a slight smirk, his eyes bright.

"Your missed interview," he replied casually.

She scoffed then, glancing about her suspiciously. They weren't attracting too much attention, though there were a few curious looks. A tribute speaking with the Head Gamemaker willingly, wasn't very common to say the least.

The only one who seemed to be concerned about it was Haymitch. However he had been accosted by a Capitol official who was speaking in frustrated tones to him.

"You know what I mean. What is the real reason for you being here?" Stephanie managed the words through clenched teeth.

Seneca eyed her carefully for a moment.

"You…Maybe I enjoy our little encounters." He spoke softly; his voice a velveteen whisper, as he arched an eyebrow with a half-smirk and his ice, blue eyes bright.

Stephanie inhaled sharply, staggering back a step as confusion and disbelief creased her features. She opened her mouth but no words came out.

And then her back collided with a familiar warmth and an arm looped around her waist steadying her.

Seneca Crane hated her. She had been sure of that. From the start he had tricked her, taunted her that he was going to kill her, had used her family against her, had went out of his way to terrify her at the interrupted dinner, and then again at the boutique he had given her the necklace that had resulted in chaos, later claiming that it was a 'private gift'.

She was sure that now, he was just doing this to further confuse her and torture her.

Damn it! She felt angry tears prick at her eyes. She knew she was a tribute, but she was sure that he was going out of his way to torture her specifically.

"Come on Stephanie," Haymitch urged gently in her ear.

Seneca's expression darkened.

"Well Abernathy, maybe you will manage to hold on to a tribute this year…or maybe not," Seneca taunted cruelly.

Haymitch said nothing but his expression was grim as he forced Stephanie to walk away.

Goodbyes were brief. Afterall, this wasn't a social visit. Isa thankfully with her gushing thanks was enough to cover, or at least make-up for, the lack of input from both tributes and mentor.

Isa opted to go with them, so as to collect the videos as soon as they were done.

As soon as the lift doors slid silently shut Stephanie wavered a little on her feet.

Haymitch managed to get her back into the main room where she collapsed gratefully onto the sofa; pale and shaking.

Seneca hates me. Seneca hates me. She kept repeating the words in her head like a mantra but then; Why?! Why would he say different?

Stephanie sat staring listlessly off into space.

It was simple. She had had enough.

Enough of Seneca and his completely confusing and confounding ways, and enough of the Capitol and the Hunger Games.

She was so lost here.

The Capitol seemed to be an almost different planet and its residents a different species. Their actions and words were mirror opposites of their true intent. A compliment was really a snide remark, a promise was a threat and false smiles were ubiquitous.

Stephanie had had enough of all of it. The confusion was overwhelming.

Haymitch appeared before her with a glass that he proceeded to hand to her with a concerned expression.

She accepted it dumbly, raising it to her lips mechanically and then with a slight start and a splutter, she cocked an eyebrow at Haymitch.

"This is vodka," she stated.

He gave a half-smirk. "I thought you said you didn't drink?"

She gave him a wan smile, sipped once more at the clear liquid and then with a grimace dismissed it.

He rolled his eyes before taking the glass from her to set on the table in front of them, before dropping himself down beside her with a heavy sigh.

"I thought we could all use a drink after that," he said after a moment of silence.

Stephanie gave a humourless laugh and a silence fell again over them.

"I don't understand him," Stephanie admitted quietly.

Haymitch glanced at her briefly with a confused expression.

She didn't look at him.

"Seneca."

Haymitch's expression darkened as he fidgeted irritably for a moment or two.

"You can't understand people like that. They do things because they can," Haymitch replied bitterly.

Stephanie sighed running a hand over her face tiredly.

"Seneca said something to me," she said, casting a sidelong glance at Haymitch.

He snapped around to face her.

Stephanie paused a moment and just as Haymitch was about to prompt her, she answered his silent question.

"He said that he enjoyed his little encounters with me."

Haymitch was silent for so long she thought that he hadn't heard her, but the way his eyes were narrowed ever so marginally betrayed that he had.

"He is taunting you, trying to unsettle you," Haymitch replied but there was a strange tone to his voice.

Stephanie nodded, trying to shake it off.

"That's what I thought," she agreed readily, studying Haymitch's face.

He turned to face her and she tried to give him a cheery smile.

The sound of the lift arriving reached them.

Stephanie held back from identifying it as "Isa," this time, for fear that it would be like the previous occasion. A ridiculous part of her was just waiting for Seneca to waltz on into the room again.

But it was only Isa who appeared around the door and she was beaming brightly.

"I got the videos!" she exclaimed happily.

Stephanie swallowed. Her throat was paper dry.

Time to face the music.