Chapter One-Hundred-and-Sixty-Nine; Laughter
"I have to get back up to the penthouse…" Stephanie trailed off as she caught her eyes almost slipping shut for the fourth time. She lifted her sleepy head from where it rested against Seneca's shoulder. He chuckled softly, breathing a kiss across her brow. "You're exhausted," he murmured, before she felt his slight smirk against her skin, "What exactly were you doing at that party before I arrived?" he teased.
Stephanie snorted. "Denying murder allegations, fainting…insulting you publically," she muttered sardonically, as her head dipped slightly to Seneca's shoulder again. She felt his quiet laughter in response vibrate through to her.
"Blue-eyed, arrogant Gamemaker?" he recalled, "That's a compliment, surely?"
Stephanie smirked ruefully, face buried against Seneca's shoulder so he couldn't see it.
"I really have to go," Stephanie reiterated, slowly drawing back from Seneca.
Her stomach gave a plummeting, nauseating swoop in preparation for the hell storm of firing thoughts, convoluted feelings and scathing self-reproach she knew she was in store for once she got back to the penthouse. Back to the penthouse where she only had to go down the hall to see Haymitch; the man she was supposed to love and marry and who's life had been ruined by Seneca's cruelty. Or the door opposite her room to see Frenkin; the boy she loved like a brother or a son who would be dead soon in Seneca's Games. And in her room, there would be no blue-eyed Gamemaker's undeniable kisses to sear her lips and mind alike until she couldn't dredge up a single coherent thought. She would have to face it. Face everything.
And that was a frankly terrifying thought.
Seneca's hands settled low on her waist as Stephanie's hands slipped from his shirt front. She dropped her eyes resolutely to her district clothing, half-covered by Seneca's black jacket, on the floor at her feet.
"Will you not even look at me?" Seneca murmured.
Stephanie shuddered as she steeled her jaw, forcing her head to rise. She looked at Seneca candidly, not trying to hide a single thought that flitted across her mind from him. She knew it would be pointless. She never could conceal her emotions successfully or what she was truly thinking. And especially not now, when she had a thousand thoughts and feelings threatening to tear her apart.
When Seneca's eyes locked with hers like they had during the public apology at the party, Stephanie was sure he would kiss her. And she wasn't sure how much more she could take that night before she would simply break.
But he didn't kiss her.
Instead Seneca bent down and deftly swept up her pile of dropped clothes and his own blazer. He wordlessly handed her, her Reaping clothes. Stephanie humbly took the precious items, smoothing her fingers over the crumpled and creased collar of her blouse.
"Take them with you," Seneca murmured.
Stephanie frowned, blinking up at Seneca guilelessly. "I thought they had to stay here until…after, you know to be – "
"No." Seneca interrupted her softly yet firmly. "They're yours. Not anyone else's to buy or sell."
"They'll notice them missing."
"I don't care."
"Ficen will be furious."
"Leave Ficen to me."
Stephanie sighed lightly, conceding defeat. But it was a happy defeat as she hugged her clothes from home tighter to herself, inhaling the familiar bittersweet scent. However she also picked up another faint scent mingled with hers on her clothes. And she realised Seneca's sharp, clean scent from his blazer had transferred to her clothes as they lay in a forgotten heap on the floor.
Stephanie looked up in slight surprise as Seneca secured his blazer around her shoulders once more. She instinctively moved her hand to grasp the ebony silk, pulling it tighter about herself. Seneca grinned irrepressibly at her unconscious gesture, feeling a spike of heady desire assault him strongly that almost had him pulling Stephanie towards him again.
"Remember, the pills are in the inside pocket," he murmured. "One a day."
Stephanie frowned. "Seneca, I can't take your jacket," she protested drolly.
"Why not? It's mine to give to whom I like," he replied flippantly. Stephanie made to argue when Seneca stepped closer. He raised his hands to tug the collar up so the silken material brushed against her burning cheeks. "Besides," he began in a familiar smug murmur, "I rather like it more when you're wearing it."
Stephanie attempted to look supremely unimpressed. "People will instantly recognise it as yours," she pointed out.
Seneca chuckled. "Well, I had no idea you were planning on wearing it out so publically," he teased. Stephanie blushed as she realised the idiocy of her own words. Of course, she wouldn't be parading about the Capitol sporting Seneca's silk blazer like it was the new fashion mode to steal items of clothing from Gamemakers.
Stephanie shook her head. She was too tired for her brain to produce sensible thoughts anymore.
But there was only persistently annoying idea that kept popping up in her mind, as she found herself being walked back to the lift by Seneca, with his blazer around her shoulders, and her bundle of clothes under her arm.
This is like the end of a damn date.
She remembered back home in District 3 going out a few times with boys on dates. There had been one particular boy with a shock of messy copper hair called Marcus. He had been a good friend of her brother Fen's. Because any boy that ever wanted to go out with one of the Trindlesworth sisters, before Weisna had gotten married, had to get the nod of approval from their brother Fen first. It had driven Weisna up the walls. But Stephanie remembered her date with Marcus now. A date in the Districts was nothing like one in the Capitol; there were no spectacular restaurants for showy events like dinner dates. Marcus had bought her some fancy, hand-made sweets and they had just walked to the familiar river with the stepping stones, sharing them. She had just turned 16 and it had all being endearingly sweet and awkward and she remembered feeling giddy that he had bought her something so expensive for their first date. He had walked her home afterwards with his coat snug around her shoulders. Nothing had evidently come of it, but it had all been so innocent. A bittersweet smile tugged at Stephanie's lips with the memories.
Fast forward two years later and her life had utterly changed. It wasn't adorably clumsy Marcus with his messy copper hair and face of freckles walking her back to her home on a cool summer's evening, where her father would be waiting on the porch. It was the Head Gamemaker and son of the President of the Capitol itself; Seneca Crane that was walking at her side, his luxurious silk blazer draped over her shoulders possessively. And her sister Weisna wouldn't be waiting to eagerly gossip with her over every detail long through the night. It would be Electra waiting grim-faced, knowing she had tricked Stephanie into her meeting with the Gamemaker. And maybe…maybe even Haymitch waiting up too? He had to know that the excuse about Ficen was a lie by this stage. She had been gone too long to be getting a necklace removed. Perhaps he even suspected who exactly she was with.
Stephanie felt guilt burn like acid in her stomach. She couldn't bear the thought that Haymitch would possibly think that she had construed this meeting with Seneca herself, that she had been in on in with Electra using Ficen as a cover, lying right to his face.
The entirely arbitrary thought assaulted Stephanie then unexpectedly.
I wonder what Marcus would think of me?
She imagined what Marcus would make of the blushingly giddy girl he had went on a few dates with two years ago, that had completely transformed into the red siren sat at the table facing Dess Landa for her dinner date. Would he believe all the stories that claimed she had Capitol and District lovers popping up everywhere? Would he too fall for the love-struck act Dan Flickerman played so well with her?
He probably would…Stephanie thought sadly.
A part of her mourned for the imagined loss of Marcus and all that he represented for her.
Marcus had been part of the innocently, naïve future that was lost to her now, since the Games had intruded in on her life. He was the good, steady husband she should have married that Fen would have approved of and her mother would have liked. They would have lived in a house near her sister and had red-haired children that Eldi would have babysat.
But then Stephanie had been reaped on her last year. She had come to the Capitol.
She had fallen in love with Haymitch Abernathy; the damaged Victor of her district who had seen and endured horrors no one should have, who drank like a fish, and who her mother would most certainly purse her lips in disapproval at.
She had met Seneca Crane; the infinitely damaged in the most human ways Gamemaker, who had inflicted horrors on others no one should have had to endure and who her brother Fen would be utterly disgusted at her with, for having feelings for.
Stephanie had once thought that Haymitch could be her normal future that she always envisioned for herself, until Stephanie realised.
She had left behind a simple life and boys like Marcus who turned white at the sight of blood, in her district. She had come to the Capitol and gotten involved between a Victor and a Gamemaker. Haymitch Abernathy and Seneca Crane were men that boys in her district hadn't a chance of comparing with. And as for the simple life she had projected for herself? Ha! That was the biggest joke yet!
Her life now was full of revenge plots, chilling murders and being a tribute for the Century Hunger Games while ensnared between Haymitch and Seneca; two men who despised one another and loved her.
…
The lift doors pinged open and Stephanie came directly face to face with Ellen Hocol, a.k.a Electra Hocol; District 3's 86th Hunger Games Victor and her mentor.
"I should bloody punch you for what you did."
"Stephanie, considering your fighting abilities, that sounds more like a joke than a threat."
Stephanie scowled as she stepped out of the lift, brushing forcibly past the blue-haired woman. She paused in the hall and Electra whistled lowly, eyebrows drifting to her hairline as the lift doors shut silently.
"Let me guess; you killed Seneca and took his blazer as a trophy of your kill?" Electra said sarcastically, grinning infuriatingly as she eyed the ebony jacket draped over Stephanie's shoulders.
Stephanie punched her.
Stephanie immediately dropped her bundle of district clothes and cursed colourfully, shaking her stinging knuckles uselessly as Electra staggered back a step or so with the hit.
Electra hadn't been lying when she said she was thick-skulled anyway, Stephanie thought drolly, sucking in a pained hiss.
In barely a second Electra had righted herself though, shrugging her electric blue hair back over her shoulders and looking entirely unruffled. The former Victor ran a hand musingly over the smooth skin on the right side of her jaw.
"Not bad," Electra said appraisingly, "Not bad at all, Trindlesworth."
Stephanie cradled her hand gingerly.
"I guess I've had that coming for a while now from you?" Electra queried lightly, arching a brow as laughter struggled on her lips.
Stephanie looked blankly at Electra for an endless moment and then she shook her head hopelessly. She leaned heavily against the wall behind her as laughter bubbled up inside of her. Careless, meaningless laughter rising from somewhere within her she thought had long shrivelled up and died since she had come to the Capitol.
A few chuckles escaped at first, then a few more and then Stephanie wrapped her arms around her waist as she began to laugh in earnest. She hadn't laughed this hard since when she first arrived in the Capitol and Haymitch had told her of the 'Isa Blitz' after the Chariot Procession. Stephanie fleetingly thought how she must seem mad, but she didn't care. And besides, she could hear Electra's laughter just as bright and earnest as hers, as the blue-haired woman leaned against the wall opposite her, shoulders shaking with laughing so hard.
"Ellen…I should be bloody crying now…not laughing?!" Stephanie managed to get out after a moment.
Electra crossed the hall towards her, scooping up Stephanie's abandoned pile of district clothes. The blue-haired woman hauled Stephanie upright from being bent double with laughter against the wall.
"Come on Trindlesworth – I'd say you needed a drink," Electra simply said, laughter still on her lips as they staggered towards the main room together.
A chapter to tide over for the weekend – next update will be Monday :)
Thanks to girlworthfightingfor for the review; haha, I loved how 'smirking' got a whole worthwhile mention on its own with the feelings and romance :P And I'm very glad you enjoyed the last three chapters so much! :D
Thanks to Silver Fletcher for the review; I agree, I do love playing on the whole 'forbidden' aspect of Stephanie and Seneca's relationship, but we all know how forbidden romances turn out…not very well. :P I'm sorry, I'm just evil, but yea: no promises concerning who Stephanie will actually end up with, if at all...mwahaha