Chapter One-Hundred-and-Sixty-One; Genuine Gratitude
"Should I be worried that you currently look like you want to murder everyone in the vicinity?"
Stephanie couldn't even manage a brief quirk of her lips in return to Electra's jibe.
"I just need to get this over with," Stephanie said grimly.
"Know what you're going to say?" Electra asked briskly.
Stephanie frowned but nodded distractedly. "I'm sorry Seneca, but it really isn't my fault you're such a smug – "
"I really hope that's one of your unfunny jokes," Electra cut across her, eyeing Stephanie meaningfully.
Stephanie scoffed, before she sighed heavily. "Don't worry, it is," she assured the blue-haired woman humourlessly.
Stephanie and Electra approached the small crowd that was gathering purposefully in advance for her public apology. She couldn't see Seneca anywhere though, and Stephanie didn't know if she was thankful for that or not.
"Where's Haymitch?" Stephanie asked.
"Getting Tiny Tim." Electra glanced at Stephanie askance. "Can you do something else with your face?"
Stephanie rolled her eyes. "What?" she snapped irritably.
"I mean can you look a bit more contrite, and a little less…like you do now."
"Do you really expect me to look excited giving an apology to Sen – Mr. Crane?" Stephanie hurriedly amended her speech, as she spotted Prall taking up a place in the crowd.
Electra furrowed her brow, throwing Stephanie a strange look. "Mr. Crane? What the hell is the sudden formality about?"
Stephanie released a measured breath, as she saw Haymitch approaching with Frenkin.
"Let's just say other people are noticing that Mr. Crane and I are a little too personal."
"Who?" Electra demanded immediately.
"My alliance partners – Prall Underling and Astara Thorne."
"Damn," Electra cursed under her breath, running a worried hand over her face. "Stephanie, this is serious," Electra hissed.
"What's serious?" Haymitch eyed Stephanie and Electra expectantly.
Stephanie jolted. She hadn't realised Haymitch had reached them already. Frenkin looked up at Stephanie curiously, and Stephanie managed a brief smile, that felt more like a grimace, for her honey-haired pseudo-brother.
"We'll talk about it later," Electra enforced grimly, before Stephanie could formulate an answer. Haymitch's expression was grave as he instantly recognised the ominous words for what they were, and he visibly pushed back any questions until their defined 'later' to be asked. That only made Stephanie worry more. What the hell was she meant to say to Haymitch later? Sorry Haymitch, but my alliance partners are starting to notice something strange between me and the man who ruined your life, and who I am incidentally also attracted to…?!
"We're ready for your public apology now, Miss Trindlesworth."
Stephanie's head snapped around to look dumbly at the Capitolite woman with vague recognition. She was the same one that had been at the penthouse, looking harried with her clipboard as she tried to organise an unprecedented interview for Stephanie with Seneca the first time. Even the woman was looking at Stephanie a little differently than how she had the first time. There was caution and wariness in the woman's face that clearly showed her curiosity, at why the President's son was having so many dealings with this one particular tribute…?
Electra nudged her, giving Stephanie one last curt nod of encouragement. Stephanie swallowed, feeling her stomach clench painfully and her throat tighten. She wasn't going to be able to speak at all, at this rate!
Stephanie glanced briefly up at Haymitch. But he wasn't looking at her. His smouldering grey gaze was focused elsewhere. Stephanie recognised the hate burning in his eyes easily, and she didn't need a second guess to know whom Haymitch's gaze was fixed on.
Stephanie turned, and sure enough, Seneca was standing a mere few metres away, waiting.
…
For a brief, terrible moment Stephanie was sure her tongue was stuck to the roof of her mouth. The words she had been preparing bubbled to the surface, but they stayed locked behind her sealed lips.
Instead all she could do was stare stupidly at Seneca, convinced that the entire thought processes she had concerning the blue-eyed Gamemaker, could be seen clearly printed across her face like an ink confession on a white page.
Her eyes flitted aimlessly to 'safe spots'; to the pristine lapel of Seneca's blazer, to the shadowy, fading bruises on his throat.
"Miss Trindlesworth?" Seneca called crisply, professionally.
Stephanie's eyes flickered bravely for a moment to meet Seneca's as he spoke her name and she felt herself locked in place, so all she could do was stare…looking and scouring desperately for what, she barely knew herself. Searching the face of this man she had so recently discovered she had become unwittingly attracted to.
Uncomfortable seconds were ticking by as her silence stretched out. Some, like Tain no doubt, were thinking she was being rebellious, refusing to apologise to the Head Gamemaker she had spurned publically. Others like Astara, Prall and even Seneca's secretary Selwa and the Gamemaker Sonny were watching the scene with careful, confused eyes, wondering at the almost palpable tension that existed between the Gamemaker and the tribute that should have had nothing to do with one another. And others still, like Electra, looked on knowingly and dreading, silently begging Stephanie to speak before everything utterly crashed down around them…!
"Stephanie?"
Stephanie swallowed nervously as her name slipped from between Seneca's lips, with far more heated intimacy than the current situation should have allowed. The three syllables of her first name rather than the clipped 'Miss Trindlesworth' coming from the Gamemaker's lips, had raised a few eyebrows in the gathered crowd also.
Stephanie's eyes widened marginally in alarm. Discretion! Her thoughts screamed suddenly at her, as she was harshly jolted from her shocked stupor.
She could clearly see Prall and even Astara standing with their district mentors, watching curiously. The last thing Stephanie needed was for Prall to suddenly ask why Seneca was also addressing her on a personal, first name basis.
Seneca clearly identified the suppressed alarm that had flitted across Stephanie's expression, and he reigned himself in. He reached for the perfect composure that would enable him to effortlessly carry off this public apology.
"Miss Trindlesworth, I must say I was very aggrieved to hear those spiteful words you said about me. After all the kindness that has been shown to you here in the Capitol; being permitted to attend high-society events in your honour, I would expect some gratitude rather than shows of insolence."
Stephanie gritted her teeth, feeling a sudden peak of petulant annoyance at Seneca's deliberately provocative words. Did he want her to lose her temper again, to explode in anger at him? Was that his plan? That she would be stuck here giving apologies to him indefinitely?
He continued to speak on in the same haughty tone of voice; cool and distant, expression aloof, seemingly utterly unaware of Stephanie's growing ire.
"Wouldn't you agree Miss Trindlesworth, that gratitude is the correct response to kindness?" Seneca drawled.
Stephanie gritted her teeth, pushing back her riled pride, searching desperately for acceptable words she could fire back at the smug Gamemaker to get this damn farce over with!
But then Seneca said her name, again. Not the impersonal 'Miss Trindlesworth' but…
"Stephanie?"
He said it softly almost. Well, as softly as he could manage without rousing suspicion. And there was almost a questioning inflect to it that asked if she was alright without ever voicing the words.
The three syllables sounded utterly different coming from his lips and Stephanie valiantly repressed the shiver that coursed through her entire body.
An apology…
She had to give an apology to this man that was going to save her life by destroying his own Games. This man that she had recently acknowledged herself being attracted to.
Stephanie inhaled a wavering breath. Her pride stamped its feet petulantly but she pushed it down.
"I apologise Mr Crane," Stephanie said clearly then, finally finding her voice, "For both my spiteful words and for not being grateful. I am truly indebted to you, for all the kindness you have shown me. I agree, that gratitude is the correct response to kindness and I haven't shown it. I hope you will grant me the chance to do so, and redeem myself, and show you how grateful I truly am…?"
Stephanie's voice petered out and she appeared almost as dumbstruck as half the crowd looked. Even Electra was staring at Stephanie in mute shock. They had expected an apology; a limp, half-hearted, stammering 'sorry'.
Stephanie wasn't entirely sure where the words had come from, or how she had managed to keep her voice so even and her expression so sincere.
Seneca looked at her intently. Stephanie couldn't tell if he was shocked or not. All she knew, was that his cobalt gaze bored into her until she couldn't breathe anymore.
And just when Stephanie was sure she was going to faint, Seneca spoke.
"What would make you say such a thing about me then, Miss Trindlesworth?" Seneca asked coolly.
Because you're driving me insane when I shouldn't even be thinking about you. Because we should hate one another so easily. Because you shouldn't love me and I shouldn't be realising now that I'm attracted to you.
"I-I wasn't thinking…" Stephanie faltered, her earlier moment of eloquence having truly evaporated.
"Evidently not," Seneca replied, an ebony brow arching superiorly and Stephanie barely managed to fight back the hot blush trying to creep into her cheeks. "But as I am feeling lenient today Miss Trindlesworth, I'll accept your moving apology. As long as, of course, I have your word that you won't engage in any more degrading displays of behaviour?"
Stephanie saw the hint of a smirk tucked into the corners of Seneca's lips, and she resisted the urge to scowl at the blue-eyed Gamemaker.
Stephanie tried not to sound too sarcastic as she replied dutifully. "You have my word that my behaviour will be perfectly acceptable. Thank you for your leniency, Se – Mr Crane…"
Stephanie felt her heart beat wildly at her near slip-up and Seneca's eyes held hers unwaveringly, silently willing her to remain calm as her rapid breathing evened.
"Very well, Miss Trindlesworth, I can see you are remorseful and I have accepted your apology…"
Seneca wrapped up the public apology succinctly then, before either of them could have any more slip-ups. He spoke effortlessly, ever with the air of unfailing professionalism that had the crowd of Capitolites hanging off his every word.
Stephanie breathed a trembling sigh of relief as her public apology officially concluded.
The reporters of course surged forth, raining questions down on both Stephanie and Seneca, ever eager for any extra scrap of gossip to be garnered.
"Miss Trindlesworth, is it true that you and Dan Flickerman have had a lover's quarrel, and that's why he refused to attend the party tonight?!"
"Mr Crane, what's your response to the rumours, that your failing health has kept you from making your usual yearly visits to The Hive promoting your Games?"
"Miss Trindlesworth, is there any truth to your fellow tribute District 4's Slena Clearwater's accusations that you had her cousin, veteran Capitolite reporter Fas Clearwater murdered?"
"Seneca Crane! Hot gossip is that you are hiding away a mystery woman! Care to share anything about that Sir?!"
Stephanie tried to block out the onslaught of questions as Electra guided her away from the hungry horde. Haymitch and Electra fended off the determined reporters, much in the same way that Seneca's own personal publicity team was.
Stephanie felt her stomach flip uneasily. Ironically, she had never felt more genuinely grateful to Seneca Crane than at that moment, for ending the already risky televised interview, before there could be any major, irreparable slip-ups.
But what inevitably caused Stephanie's uneasiness were the few faces she saw turn away from her public apology with Seneca Crane; blatant scepticism and wary suspicion in their eyes at what they had just watched.
It seemed not all were convinced by her gratitude.