TRIPLE UPDATE!

Sorry about the wait; per usual!

Chapter One-Hundred-and-Twenty-Seven; Pretences

"And what if for a few hours I was merely Seneca and you were just Stephanie?"

The words hung in the air as Seneca watched the play of emotions across Stephanie's face.

There was exasperation, anger and genuine hate. Fear and worry flickered in her eyes. For a brief moment her whole expression was one of complete bafflement as though she were truly lost. Even for a second Seneca almost imagined he saw something hopeful and curious warm her gaze. But when she spoke her voice was cold and resigned and her gaze was fixed firmly on the polystyrene cup she was crushing in her hands.

"You could never just merely be Seneca and I could never just be Stephanie," she murmured in reply, tearing the cup in her hands in half.

Seneca's jaw tightened as he flexed his fingers against the table. But he consciously relaxed his tense muscles, unwilling to give up just yet.

"That's the wonderful thing about pretending; you can be anything you want," Seneca replied with his most charming grin.

Stephanie's palms slammed down on the table as she turned to face Seneca with furious eyes. "Is that what you Capitolites do to be able to live with yourselves? Pretend that you aren't all just murderers who butcher innocent children for entertainment?!" Stephanie cried, "well I can't pretend!"

Seneca's face had paled in anger or something else entirely, Stephanie wasn't sure. And she didn't wait to find out.

Stephanie vaulted from the table, moving across the cafeteria to the doors at the opposite end they had entered from. She didn't care where she ended up - she just needed to get away.

Stephanie shouldered her way through the doors, finding herself in some outer garden, penned in at all sides by the building. A neat square of clear blue sky was just visible if she looked up; unattainable though.

She threw herself onto one of the small white benches, slumping her head into her hands and feeling the unexplainable urge to cry well up in her.

"Haymitch where are you?"

Stephanie's throat felt tight as she choked back more tears.

Within seconds it had seemed like the life she had fought for and hoped for, had been cruelly snatched away all over again.

Not too long ago she had had a fiancé, a plan to survive, a hoped for future.

What did she have now?

A blue-eyed Gamemaker she couldn't escape from.

It was cruel irony Stephanie considered. The most prominent force in her life, Stephanie's thoughts added bitterly; that she should be reaped on her last year before she would be free, that Seneca; the one man Haymitch hated above all others, would fall in love with her - that she could still manage to feel this hopeless when her odds had increased.

Because despite everything - her odds had increased; scandal surrounded her again making her a hot topic of conversation, she had made an alliance and Seneca was perhaps going to rid her of her most detrimental fainting.

She should be happy Stephanie realised ruefully. Well, perhaps not happy but a little more hopeful instead of so empty and full of despair.

Every step had been a step closer to winning, to getting out of the Games alive…every step had been unwittingly a step closer to Seneca she realised now, and she had been just too blind to see it.

That was why she was so full of despair.

When she had thought she had lost Haymitch once before it had been single-handedly one of the worst experiences of her life; right up there with seeing the factory explode with her father and brother still in it or being reaped for the Games.

But this time it was so much worse; this time it was like she had chosen it. She had pushed him away.

She had expected far too much from him? For him to find a way to survive, because she was useless – for him to prop her up when her hope failed – for him to have to suffer Seneca; the man who had single-handedly destroyed Haymitch's life.

No wonder he had snapped Stephanie thought mournfully, anyone would!

"I'm sorry Haymitch…" Stephanie mumbled as she sniffed back more tears.

"Haymitch, he's your mentor, isn't he?"

Stephanie jumped in her seat as her head snapped up. She hadn't heard Wirin follow her out.

He stood before her, his hands clasped in front of him. His smile was small but ever-present.

Stephanie imagined she should feel comforted somewhat by the fact that Wirin seemed so at ease with the whole bizarre situation. His eyes hadn't bulged in shock like Seneca's guards or anyone else who had ever overheard Stephanie speaking with Seneca.

Yet somehow that fact made her more uneasy.

Because in the small flash of anger in his eyes before-hand Stephanie knew what Wirin saw when he looked at her; a tribute, a district dweller.

Yet why does he then go out of his way to be pleasant towards me?

Wirin made her think of Dan; an actor. Stephanie had always despised false personas, acts people put on to fool and deceive others.

Stephanie shook her head to refocus on the present situation. She had yet to answer Wirin.

"Yes," Stephanie replied, her voice hoarser than she expected.

Wirin gave her that smile again, that tremulous one that looked like he was barely holding back from bursting out laughing in her face. Stephanie frowned at him.

But before she could even consider what to say next Wirin spoke, "you should go back in – get something to eat."

Stephanie sighed heavily as she looked at her hands.

The last thing she wanted to do was to go back in there where Seneca was. But Stephanie mentally rallied herself. The more time she spent sulking out here meant the longer this whole thing would take.

She couldn't run away from things all her life. Sometimes she would just have to grit her teeth and face them; the test right now, Seneca Crane himself and even the Games.

They were all things she would have to deal with. She couldn't childishly hope that they would go away the longer she ignored them.

Stephanie stood abruptly as she swiped at her tears determinedly. Wirin was still looking at her with that infuriatingly curious look of almost amusement.

"What?" Stephanie snapped at him harshly. He blinked at her in surprise but Stephanie didn't wait for a reply as she stalked by him, using both her hands to burst the doors inwards.

The first thing her gaze alighted on was the tense line of Seneca's shoulders as he had his back to her. He visibly stiffened but he didn't turn and Stephanie found herself minutely grateful. He had yet to move from his place at the table Stephanie noted. Her chair still sat cold and abandoned, streaked away from him at a diagonal.

Wirin gestured her onward though, towards the food-serving front of the cafeteria and Stephanie followed with little protest. She also belatedly noted that her tremors had stopped. The shivers and stammers must have fled sometime during her heated words with Seneca, though she had hardly noticed at the time.

Stephanie almost walked directly into Wirin before her, when he suddenly stopped short.

"Hmmm?" Wirin mused thoughtfully as he rubbed a hand along his jaw contemplatively.

Stephanie frowned, peering over his shoulder curiously, at what had caused the sudden pensive expression on the other man's usually vacantly pleasant features.

However she could see nothing out of the ordinary.

There were the silver serving dishes; closed over as they were currently unneeded. The little lights on each dish blinked red to show they were being kept hot within their miniature toasty ovens.

Stephanie arched a brow. It was all a general deal fancier than what she was used to back home, and she doubted those silver trays contained what was considered food back in her district; but fundamentally, it was the same.

When the break bell rang at the factory back in District 3 they would all sullenly trudge towards the 'eating area' - cafeteria would be too grand a word for the tiny room they were shoved into. The trays would be lined up on the rickety table against the wall waiting for them. Most days it was best if you didn't try and distinguish what it was you were eating, and just shovelled it down as quickly as you could.

"Wirin I thought you were meant to be getting food?!"

Seneca's icy tone snapped through Stephanie's brief reminiscing as her whole posture tensed. He was standing just behind her shoulder, and Stephanie willed herself to keep her spine straight.

Wirin grimaced as he glanced over his shoulder apologetically. "I would be, if I could figure out how?" he replied, casting a baffled glance back at the serving trays.

Stephanie scoffed loudly in amazement, unable to contain it, "you have got to be joking?!"

Wirin eyed her coolly; a little more of his pleasant persona had slipped for a second, and the annoyance darkened his gaze at being so demeaned by someone he clearly considered below him.

Stephanie decided to waste no words as she brushed past him to simply press the release button on one of the silver trays. Immediately the silver tray slid back to let loose a jet of steam and a sizzling sound.

Stephanie smirked grimly to herself. Of course the food contained within was nothing like the grey gruel she had been forced to endure countless times at the factory.

"I never knew you were so adept with Capitol technology," Wirin remarked casually, yet his voice held a shrewd, sardonic edge. His movements were controlled and ordered as he scooped some food onto a plate.

Stephanie's eyes flared for a moment in fiery indignation before she tamped it down. She instead fixed Wirin with a frosty look as she replied to him in a controlled tone.

"That's because it isn't Capitol technology," Stephanie said. "It was designed by those from my district and it was built in District 3 factories before it ever saw one fancy Capitol meal."

Wirin paused his methodical actions and looked at her, surprise for once showing quite clearly on his face.

"We had to think of some way to keep the smog that hangs in the air from the factories, constantly infiltrating our food," Stephanie added in a quieter mumble.

She ignored Wirin's still somewhat dumbfounded look and the feeling of Seneca's gaze scorching her back. Instead, she moved forward to heap some of the delicious-smelling food onto another plate for herself.

"She's right."

Stephanie almost dropped the plate she was balancing in one hand as Seneca spoke. She had still yet to meet his gaze.

"District 3 came up with the original design," Seneca added. His voice was different somehow, Stephanie thought. She had expected it to be hardened with still simmering rage from her outburst. But it was decidedly calmer; and Stephanie couldn't quite decide if that soothed her worry or not.

"Well the Districts do produce some of the most astounding 'things' sometimes," Wirin mused. His smile was genial as his gaze alighted on Stephanie for a meaningful moment.

And Stephanie gritted her teeth in angered indignation as she recognised that Wirin was referring to her also.

"Hurry up. We haven't got all day."

Seneca's voice sounded then again and Stephanie forced herself to look over her shoulder at him. His voice had been laced with annoyance and Stephanie saw how Seneca was glaring at Wirin; having clearly understood the latter's meaning also.

Wirin looked down, immediately contrite, but not before Stephanie caught that look of anger flash in his eyes again.

Stephanie kept her gaze locked on Wirin then as they walked back to their table, her thoughts otherwise preoccupied that she barely felt Seneca's eyes watching her.

Yet Seneca's words came back to her about pretences as she eyed the lanky man with the orange flame-like streak in his hair before her.

Wirin feeling the weight of her gaze on him looked up at her, offering her a small smile when he caught her eyes.

Stephanie didn't return it. She remembered how the anger had burned in Wirin's eyes, the annoyance in his gritted teeth and the smug amusement in his tremulous smile.

If anyone was pretending here, Stephanie thought grimly, it was Wirin.

She just didn't know why?