Chapter One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Five; Flirting
"I didn't expect you here," Seneca stated again, watching Stephanie through the pane of glass from the almost small control room.
Wirin shifted in his seat as he spared a quick glance at Seneca.
"I said I wanted to help you remember?" Wirin murmured dismissively.
Stephanie was on the other side of the glass currently lying flat and still on a cold table almost, in a papery thin gown waiting to undergo a full body scan.
Or rather, that was what Stephanie was meant to be doing. But in reality she was shaking so hard that Seneca could make out each individual tremor that ran the length of her body from metres away.
Wirin sighed in exasperation as the machine before him began to beep loudly again in error.
Seneca looked over at him expectantly.
"She's shaking too much," Wirin said, irked.
"She's nervous," Seneca snapped back.
"She's too nervous Seneca," Wirin retorted, "She's going to faint before the scan is even completed and we can't give her anymore serum to keep her awake; it'll skew the results."
Seneca growled low in annoyance, "Give me a few minutes," he muttered before he brushed past Wirin and out of the room before Wirin could say a word of protest.
…
Stephanie jerked violently at the sudden opening of the door and the sharp rap of approaching footsteps.
She had been warned not to move an inch and she was trying her hardest but she suspected her efforts were in vain because she could feel her whole body vibrating. She was filled with nervous energy and though the room was comfortably warm, in her papery thin gown that just reached her knees she felt freezing and couldn't stop her teeth chattering.
Her gaze flitted to the side as a shadowy figure loomed at the edge of her vision.
Ice blue eyes pinned her down. Seneca was frowning, his arms folded – he looked annoyed, Stephanie realised. And she gulped feeling in equal measures angry at him and herself.
This was an impossible situation she had been put in; one where things like right and wrong seemed to be temporarily suspended.
She wasn't meant to be trusting Seneca Crane and yet she was.
She wasn't meant to believe Seneca Crane when he told her he hadn't killed Fas Clearwater; and yet she did.
And she most certainly shouldn't feel relieved by the sight of the blue-eyed Gamemaker leaning over her at that moment.
Stephanie tried to soothe herself with the reasoning that given she was feeling so nervous at the moment it was only natural that she feel eased at the sight of a familiar face that she trusted.
But that reasoning only made Stephanie feel guilty when her thoughts irrevocably turned to Haymitch.
Well I'd rather have Seneca here than that other man, Stephanie thought to herself. She felt distinctly uneasy under the other man's gaze – Wirin. It was the way Wirin looked at her as though he was just barely holding back from laughing. It wasn't a very new feeling given that some Capitolites endlessly found those from the Districts amusing but with Wirin it was different. It wasn't the usual mocking laughter because she couldn't understand how the technology worked or she stumbled in her heels. But rather it was ever so pitying as though he actually felt sorry for her; like he knew something that she didn't. It made Stephanie nervous.
"You're too nervous," Seneca stated bluntly, crashing through Stephanie's thoughts as he continued to frown down at her.
Stephanie scowled up at him, "O-oh I'm s-sorry. I'll t-try to g-get rid of my e-emotions, shall I?" Stephanie managed to shoot back at him sarcastically with her teeth chattering.
"No, just your nerves will do," Seneca replied immediately, as he flashed her a small half-smirk.
Stephanie cursed him under her breath as she glowered up at him. Then feeling a little silly she struggled into a sitting position.
"H-hey!" she cried indignantly when Seneca without warning suddenly pressed the back of his hand to her bare leg.
He smirked at her infuriatingly before his expression sobered, "You're not that cold," he told her.
"W-what are you a h-human th-thermometer now?" she snapped, pulling her knees close to her chest.
A smirk ghosted across his lips but it disappeared swiftly, "What are you feeling right now?" he asked her seriously.
Stephanie narrowed her eyes at him, was he actually for real?
"N-nervous," she muttered darkly.
Seneca arched a brow, "Do you feel sick?"
"T-that's part of n-nerves," she said rolling her eyes as she rubbed her hands up and down her arms in a futile attempt to stop her tremors.
Seneca scoffed lightly in exasperation as he once more slid his silk black jacket from his shoulders and threw it carelessly at her.
Stephanie considered refusing it out of pride but as another shiver raced through her body she pulled the material closer to herself.
As it was before the ebony silk beneath her fingertips was warm to the touch. It was strange that his eyes were so cold yet he was undeniably warm-blooded, Stephanie thought. She had always imagined his icy eye colour would reflect how he was inside; cold-blooded with a stone heart.
"Wait," Seneca murmured softly and Stephanie paused her movements instinctively as she looked to him, frowning expectantly.
Seneca stepped forward as he reached out to push his blazer back off her shoulder. Stephanie shivered as his fingertips brushed lightly down her arm.
"W-what are y-you doing?" she said, leaning away from his inquisitive touch.
Seneca's brow was furrowed fiercely though, his blue eyes contemplating.
He ignored her question, much to Stephanie's annoyance, and turned to call over his shoulder towards the glass pane where Wirin was watching every move from with the utmost curiousity.
"Could overuse of serum be causing body tremors?"
Stephanie looked down at her arm then, noting what Seneca had moments before.
Little pinpricks haloed by fading yellowing or blooming purple bruises depending on their age, peppered the skin of her upper arm. Stephanie grimaced; it was like just her upper arm was suffering from some strange type of chicken pox.
"H-have you b-bloody k-killed me b-before I g-got to the a-arena? – I-Isa will be d-dis-disappointed," Stephanie muttered.
Seneca threw a half-hearted glare at her, "Don't say that," he snapped and Stephanie frowned at him.
Stephanie's frown only deepened as she noted with displeasure that Wirin was now standing at Seneca's shoulder; scrutinising her as though she were some sample under a microscope.
"It is possible," Wirin mused aloud after a few moments, "Someone clearly has been a little needle happy with her."
Stephanie scowled; she hated when people did that – spoke as though she wasn't even there.
"Is it a problem?" Seneca asked.
Wirin sighed for a considering moment, "Maybe; it will make getting accurate results more difficult."
Seneca let out a measured breath, "These results need to be accurate the first time," Seneca enforced.
Wirin made a humming noise of contemplation tilting his head slightly to the side before he turned to Seneca, "Perhaps we should wait for half an hour then. Get some food into her – "
"I-I'm right b-bloody he-here," Stephanie managed to get out through gritted teeth.
Wirin blinked at the interruption as he looked to Stephanie with a baffled expression.
Seneca smirked, "She doesn't like being ignored," Seneca casually explained.
Stephanie tried to swat at Seneca but she was reluctant to move her arm from the warmth of his jacket so she settled for fixing him with a withering glare, "D-don't talk a-about me l-like I'm y-your pet d-dog o-or something."
Wirin brows drifted to his hairline but apart from that he looked only mildly surprised.
"Of course not," Seneca agreed, "A dog would be more obedient."
He flashed that infuriatingly smug smirk as Stephanie glared at him harder.
However unfazed by her attempts to intimidate him Seneca spoke on, "So food Wirin?" he prompted the other man.
"The cafeteria downstairs should still be stocked," Wirin suggested.
"Not ideal, but I'm sure we'll manage," Seneca conceded begrudgingly.
Seneca then turned to Stephanie expectantly, "Come on then. You need to eat," he told her, holding out a hand for her to use to hop off the table.
Stephanie looked at him incredulously, "I n-need m-my clothes," she told him; pulling his jacket closer to her chin in case he got any ideas about reclaiming it.
Her feelings towards the silk black material had changed.
Previously because Seneca had given her it and because it was an extension of him Stephanie had childishly been reluctant to take any warmth from it. But now to simultaneously satisfy the petulant stubborn part of her and her shivering limbs she had decided she was essentially going to steal Seneca's jacket and use it as she saw fit.
Seneca frowned at her in bafflement, "You are wearing clothes," he replied, shoving his open hand towards her again.
Stephanie ignored it. "I-I've f-felt sheets o-of paper thi-thicker than this…thing," Stephanie replied indignantly.
Seneca rolled his eyes, "Which is why you have my blazer – how much more of my clothes do you expect me to part with?!"
"Shall I go on to the cafeteria?" Wirin interjected mildly.
Seneca made a brief dismissive gesture with his hand as he continued to stare expectantly at Stephanie. Wirin scuttled off then, concealing chuckles under his breath much to Stephanie's embarrassment.
"K-keep y-your bloody clothes o-on," Stephanie warned, "I-I want m-my clothes!"
"I incinerated them," Seneca replied.
"Y-y-you wh- ?!" Stephanie looked at him horrified.
But Seneca didn't even notice her reaction as he continued on in a bored voice, "I'm not even sure they could be considered clothes anymore, the state they were in."
"B-b-but w-what am I m-meant to wear?" Stephanie continued wide-eyed.
Seneca rolled his eyes, "Don't be so melodramatic. My driver will bring something appropriate when he comes to collect us."
Stephanie didn't miss the way Seneca had referred to them so casually as 'us', just like the steel-eyed medic at the racetracks had looked at them.
Was that how Seneca's friend Wirin looked at them as well? Stephanie thought. As an 'us'.
Stephanie had been so lost in her musings she didn't even realise that Seneca had disappeared from before her.
She only realised that Seneca was no longer where he was when she felt a sharp tug on his blazer from behind her.
"W-what a-are you d-doing?!" Stephanie cried in alarm.
Seneca chuckled, the sound vibrating close by her, "I had no idea you had become so attached to my blazer," Seneca said smoothly as he stepped in front of her again, with a customary smirk in place, "It looks good on you."
Stephanie then noticed the white material that Seneca had clutched in his other hand and she realised that he had been trying to retrieve his jacket so he could give her whatever he had found in his hand for her to wear.
Stephanie shut her eyes for a brief moment as she cringed, "I-it's j-just warm," Stephanie mumbled in protest.
Seneca chuckled again as he held out his hand which Stephanie could now recognise was holding a white linen bath-robe like thing.
Stephanie reached out to take it gratefully as she allowed Seneca's blazer to fall around her hips on the table.
"You'll have to stand up to put it on," Seneca reminded her, holding out his hand in offered support.
Stephanie sighed as she gritted her teeth.
Being in Seneca's company was becoming increasingly dangerous for a whole multitude of reasons.
Because she inevitably found herself snowballing into encounters she would never imagine herself having each time.
She had been on a dinner date with him that had ending in her slapping him. She had been at a photo-shoot where she had fainted in his arms and he had carried her. And finally there had been the incident at The Chandelier Rooms when she had cried on his shoulder.
If she accepted his hand what would she end up doing this time?
Every concession to Seneca seemed to be a step away from Haymitch. It was a cruel and vicious game that Stephanie was becoming sick of playing.
She loved Haymitch. And yet the man she loved…? She had no idea where he was, how things stood between them now. She had to hope that there was a chance of reconciliation, a chance at patching things up otherwise…without Haymitch; the thought just wasn't worth contemplating.
Stephanie swallowed thickly as she slipped her hand into Seneca's. She needed his support to get off the table if she didn't want to fall on her face.
Seneca's eyes betrayed a modicum of surprise at her easy acceptance, unable to see the battle her thoughts were being engaged in.
Her hands were still shaking when she tugged the robe on and Seneca without a second thought helped her, smirking slightly.
Seneca swatted her useless fumbling hands away as she failed to tie the robe closed.
Stephanie raised her hands helplessly as Seneca stepped close to make the knot around her waist. A small squeak escaped her when he pulled it tight.
His hands lingered still after he had made the knot though as he gazed down at her. Stephanie swallowed, frowning, uncomfortable at how close the blue-eyed Gamemaker was to her.
"You have no shoes. Shall I carry you?" Seneca's voice never rose above a silky murmur, his breath warm against her cheek.
Stephanie snapped her head up to look at him as she blinked, realising what Seneca was doing.
He's flirting with me…! Her thoughts raged with indignation that Seneca had the audacity, even as her face flushed red.
Stephanie stepped back, scowling at him.
"I-I'll walk," she stated coldly before she turned and headed towards the door Wirin had exited.
Seneca smirked after her before he turned to quickly pick up his blazer that Stephanie had left on the table.
It was still warm and when Seneca slipped it on across his shoulders it had another scent. Something lighter and definitely not his.