Ricochet narrowed her eyes at Hamlin; her jaw set tight causing a deep ache to settle in the hinges of her mouth as Finnick led her away. His voice was deeper than it had been earlier, as if he knew her anger and disgust and couldn't hide his own, but he whispered nothing of their encounter instead he said,
"Dance with me." Ricochet was twirled to face Finnick, a man that seemed to have matured into a grown man rather than a flirtatious boy in mere minutes. His eyes seemed harder, a bit darker as if a storm was on the verge of breaking free but still he smiled. Ricochet glanced over her shoulder, feeling the slime of tens of men staring at her, but she placed her hand on Finnick's shoulder and the other in his grasp. He held her close but their bodies didn't touch as he sweetly led her step to step.
She stumbled a bit, accidentally stepping on his feet with muttered apologies as he tried to lead her. Finnick didn't seem to mind, but rather he was amused and eager to teach her. He slowed the pace of the dance and moved with more direct and foreseeable steps, but Ricochet couldn't seem to get the hang of it. She felt against Finnick's chest after tripping and he steadied her while some other dancer laughed softly at her plight. She glanced around with slight annoyance trying to spot the people who had laughed at her but they were already off twirling somewhere else possibly with someone else. Finnick gently straightened Ricochet and offered a smile as he said,
"Let's just go in a circle then. No fancy steps or anything like that just," he moved in a circle while spinning, "circles." Ricochet sighed but nodded in agreement and allowed Finnick to gently twirl them as he moved in a circle around the dance floor. Ricochet looked up from their feet to the twirling couples around them, all of them interweaving and easily switching partners as if they were on moving platforms. Not one step out of place. Not one movement jagged or thought out just fluid. Some women gave her spiteful expressions; some men eyed Finnick with great envy and her with grins that would make Tributes seem gentle but a great many them chuckled or hid laughs behind hands and ducking heads.
As the faces began to swirl and blur around her and Finnick's face faded from her view, all she could focus on was how much her blood boiled at what Hamlin had said, how she was treated. Her world began to fall away at her feet and the sensation of falling began to surround her. Finnick seemed to be spinning faster and faster, her body getting lighter and lighter as she tried to focus on any given face but only finding Hamlin's in a crowd of hyenas. Men throwing their heads back to laugh and fingers reaching out to graze against her bare skin, over her scar.
Her ears buzzed with their heated promises of power and revenged; understanding and love. She heard all of their voices, young and old, deep and high, breathy and strong, blurring together in a chorus of their promises. Everything was going to be different. Everyone was going to love her. No one would question her. She would be powerful. She would be loved. She would be famous and admired. All she had to do was listen to them, they would teach her how. They would show her how. They would love her.
But they didn't love her. None of them did. They all punished her for not sounding right. They all hated her for not doing it right. They all detested her for not feeling it right. They lied to her, just as everyone had ever done, and they didn't love her, just as everyone had done. They used her. They threw her away. And suddenly all she could hear were their moans, their yelling, their growling- they're laughing going around and around and around her head. Faces blurring behind her eyelids, all twisted in forms of amusement as they watched her try to be one of them. Laughing as she fumbled over steps she never learned. Laughing as she tried so hard to be as beautiful as they were, as gifted as they were, as stunningly made-up and artistic and rich and friendly and charming and twisted and sick and demeaning-.
She suddenly shoved Finnick away from her, spinning a bit as she turned away from him and tried to balance herself. Finnick stumbled a few steps back but caught himself easily. He watched as Ricochet grabbed a short round glass from a tray and then another. As she downed both of them, the molten liquid brought a relieved burning sensation to her mouth, dragging it down to blossom through her chest before warming her stomach. Her head gave an instant sway of rebellion but the fire of the liquor burned away half the voices ringing in her ears and smoldered the faces behind her lids. Another two glasses and she no longer remembered what it was that had her muscles so tense. As hands fell onto the swell of her hips, she turned with a fist ready only to find Finnick was the one holding her curiously, his sea colored eyes holding only concern.
"Maybe we should go," he offered wanting her to find the comfort and confidence she felt when he first met her, he didn't like seeing her so out of place. Ricochet shook her head, grabbing another glass, this time of wine, from the tray and gesturing with it.
"Don't be ridiculous, we haven't even had cake yet," she said walking up to Finnick to offer him the wine. He took it with a practiced smile. Ricochet gave her half smile, her eyes cold and distant as if on some other planet. "There, enjoy yourself Finnick Odair. We were once paid to." He frowned around the lip of the wine glass before Ricochet gave a glance around and something caught her eye. She narrowed her eyes ever so slightly; he could all but see the wheels of her mind turning as she intently watched something or other. He thought at first she saw the cake Snow had gotten her, but instead of moving towards it she excused herself and left into the crowd, unceremoniously shoving aside anyone that came near her. Finnick glanced around as he continued to sip his wine, his free hand in the pocket of his trousers as he wondered what he should be doing aside from standing there.
Ricochet slid her shoes off before her heels could give her away. Hamlin was in one of the hallways leading, she guessed, to the restroom. He had another wine glass in his hand and was walking as if he hadn't a care in the world and why should he? He was Snow's advisor and got away with a lot including somewhat slenderizing comments about Snow himself, but seeing has how she had never received orders from Snow to kill him and the man had made no obvious threat to Snow, she put up with him. But he pushed a nerve tonight, bringing up memories she had long since laid to rest, and just the presence of him became problematic to her.
"Hamlin," she said once she was right behind the man. He turned and instantly let out a breathy gasp when her fingers jabbed him in the chest hard, a knife would have caused the same initial pain in Hamlin's book. His heart gave a spasm as she slid the knife from her wrist to gently run down his cheek, those glossy eyes wide and pupils dilated as he tried to catch his breath again. "You are about to suffer from a massive cardiac arrest. See what I have done is interrupt your heart's natural beat thus causing it to spasm which will soon result in its involuntary shut down. You will be completely aware of everything that is happening to you. Your breathing will never regulate. Your body will slowly become cold and you may even feel spasms through your hands and feet," she watched him fall to the floor gripping her wrist with trembling hands as she knelt down to watch him. "You will slowly lose consciousness due to lack of oxygen and the worst part?" She leaned down to grip his chin and offer that dangerous half smile of hers, her eyes glowed as they reflected the light of a nearby candle and Hamlin gasped pitifully as his heart raced faster and faster. "No one in the entire world will even acknowledge your pitifully natural death."
She pushed the man to the floor, offering a sharp and violent jab to his chest again sending another electric spasm through the man as she straightened.
"You're not even worth watching die," she told him coolly with that haunting half smile back on her lips, the Victor coming out in full as she simply turned on her heel and walked back to the party, leaving Hamlin twitching and gagging on the floor unable to make a sound or move until his heart finally quit and he died. The Capitol always feared not being seen, not being remembered, fading away without one person remembering their style and wealth and life. Ricochet played off that by denying Hamlin even the opportunity of having her watch him die as she had done every Tribute and assassin she had killed before. No, instead she showed him just how little he meant to her and walked off without even a second glance. That half smile was permanently on her lips as she walked away with her shoulders back and head up high.
No, she wasn't like the Capitol elite. She didn't know how to accessorize with the perfect gown. She couldn't dance and she didn't know anything about politics and fashion. She was a killer. She was a protector.
And that was one thing she would always be good at.
Finnick looked over from the food table as Ricochet stepped up beside him reaching over to pick up a strawberry from a platter. Her voice was steady and cool compared to the emotional state she seemed to have been in before. Finnick watched curiously as she lightly bit into the juicy fruit, the juice spilling over her plush lips as she pulled the remaining bit away. Finnick absently popped another grape in his mouth as he looked away trying to seem unphased by her sudden change in personality.
"We should go," Ricochet said as she licked her lips and popped the last half of her strawberry between her lips.
"Go? Don't be ridiculous, you haven't had cake yet," Finnick said mocking her previous statement. He expected a scoff or the usual glare he got when he used to tease her, but she didn't even seem to notice. A voice broke out of the crowd and a mob of Capitol guests too to the hallways, a mass of voices rising in panic and confusion. Finnick watched them all rush by him to swarm the nearby hallway. "What's going on over-?" Finnick glanced at Ricochet who was calmly spreading a cheese over a slice of bread. She didn't even glance up when a woman's scream pierced the ballroom followed by security booming,
"Please back away from the area. There is nothing to see here." Finnick stared in complete confusion as he looked from the mob to Ricochet, now munching the bread as if nothing were going on around her all. He narrowed his eyes curiously when she looked at him and she just smile.
She just smiled.