David Rossi flashed a charming smile as he welcomed Emily onto the stage. "You all know and love her, the little Capitol girl who defied all expectations with her bleeding heart for the plight of our friends in the Districts..."
Emily teetered on the edge of the stage behind the sparkling purple velvet curtains, her head swimming with dizziness and anxiety. Maybe if she hoped long and hard enough, she thought, the ground would open and swallow her up. Except, she knew that wasn't about to happen because she never got what she wanted.
She wasn't nervous, per se; Emily Prentiss was never nervous. She'd just rather be anywhere else in that moment. Despite years of schmoozing, fake smiling, and feigning interest at her mother's ritzy Hunger Games viewing parties, this was the situation of her nightmares; more so even than actually entering the arena.
She was not charming. She was not personable. She was not known for her winning personality. She was sarcastic, self-deprecating, dark, and oh-so utterly socially awkward. Right now, all she was hoping for was not to immediately stick her foot in her mouth and try not to let her utter dread appear on her face as David Rossi once again called her name – her cue to come on stage – and she tried not to stumble in her sky-high heels.
The stage lights were overwhelmingly bright and radiated heat like direct sunlight and a fine sheen of sweat immediately permeated the layer of makeup on her face. She felt like every sound came from underwater and her vision swam as she somehow found her seat on the stage.
Rossi was saying a lot of things and she couldn't quite piece enough words together to form a logical sentence. The only word that stuck in her mind was mother and after a long moment of anticipatory silence from the audience, she realized he meant her mother.
"Oh, well, she...umm..." She was pretty sure she sounded like a complete idiot in that moment.
"I'm sure she was quite upset – I know I'd be absolutely devastated if I had a daughter who was going to compete in the Games."
Okay, now she understood the question. And it made her want to laugh out loud, but she managed to contain it long enough to sort of form an answer. "Well, I guess...I think she was mostly mad at me."
He quirked a brow and she was starting to think that maybe she should be telling a little less of the truth. "I'm sure that's not true – she's probably just masking her sadness. I imagine she's incredibly proud of you for your caring, selfless spirit; I don't know anyone else that would volunteer the way you did. It's an inspiring example of the Capitol's kindness towards the Districts."
"Yeah, I don't think that's it either," she said slowly. "That's not her style."
"Well, what is she like? How would you describe her as a mother?"
Emily shut her eyes tightly and silently cursed, wishing she could just die in that moment. This was the worst torture ever, in her mind. "She's...devoted to her job," she shrugged, finding a perfect political answer. "But I'd really prefer not to talk about her – this is my battle and mine alone." She winced internally; she wasn't going to have a single sponsor after tonight. "I think she gets enough publicity already as District escort...it's my turn."
Rossi chuckled. "Fair enough. What about your fellow District Nine tribute? Is he a special friend of yours?"
She felt her cheeks burn with embarrassment. "No, no, definitely not, we're just best friends. And that's hard enough to manage when I only get to see him once or twice a year. But he's the most important person in the world to me." The audience gave a prolonged sad sigh, won over instantly by her devotion.
It was the middle of the night when Emily went in search of Derek to tell him that she needed him as her ally.
It was a little late and probably not the best idea at this time of night, especially on the night before they were launched into the arena. But she had a feeling that he was a lot like her and would be unable to find sleep, overwhelmed by the obligation in which he would shortly be face-to-face with.
She found him on the roof, staring off into the perma-daylight of the city, back to her. "Are they still screaming your name?" she asked quietly, so as not to spook him, not sure if he'd heard her approach.
"Are you making fun of me, Princess?" He wasn't facing her, but she could tell from his voice that he was smiling.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm pretty sure I saw a girl in the audience with a 'Marry me, Derek Morgan!?' sign. You're the Capitol's new sweetheart...you're too damn good looking."
He laughed and turned around to tip her a wink. "You're not so bad on the eyes either."
"Shut up." She punched him in the shoulder as she came to sit down next him. "Can we be serious for a minute?"
He sighed exasperatedly, sitting down beside her, still grinning. "What's on your mind, Princess?" He wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
"I know I don't have a single useable quality that would make you want to team up with me – the only reason I got a score higher than a two was because the Gamemaker's all want the Capitol girl to win – but I need you on my side. Please, help me keep Matthew alive."
He pressed a kiss against her temple. "I already promised I would. You should be sleeping, you look like a wreck."
She mashed her lips together. "Gee, thanks..."
He ushered her back onto the elevator before she could say anything more and she was still a little confused about what had just happened when she stepped off onto her floor and ran straight into her mother.
She winced immediately, anticipating the verbal assault to come. But instead of the shouting she expected, her mother in a cold, slow voice, demanded, "Get into bed. Now."
"I was just..." she started to explain that she'd needed fresh air.
"I said now."
Suddenly in a bitter mood, she huffed and shot her mother a frosty glare, turning on her heel to stomp off to her room.
As she disappeared behind her door the elevator once again opened onto their floor, this time admitting the boy from District Two whom her mother greeted with her most charmingly political smile.
"Can we make this quick?" the boy drawled immediately. "If they notice I'm gone, I will be in severe trouble and I won't hesitate to point the blame squarely in your direction."
Elizabeth smiled. "That's just the fighting spirit I need. And I have something you need as well... I can make life in the arena for you very easy or very difficult. You won't survive two days without sponsors and I can get them for you, assuming you agree to help me. If not, I'll make sure you don't see a single gift."
Ian's attention was piqued. This woman clearly knew how to play ball. "What are your terms?"
"As I'm sure you've guessed, my daughter has a mind of her own and I can't have her running around in the arena like some District brat – no offence – blindly trying to survive. And as I'm also sure you've guessed, she won't last one hour on her own...she scored a five for crying out loud. What she needs is someone looking out for her, someone who scored an eleven. That someone will be you, understand?"
Ian smiled, charming yet dangerous. "As you wish, ma'am."
"And make sure you get rid of that boy she volunteered for – maybe then she'll get a brain and start thinking about her own survival.