I pull away after a moment, and Cara smiles at me, her cheeks flushed pink. We both laugh a little, and it's a good thing that we stopped kissing when we did because Mayor Hill walks right in with Grant. She gives me a warm smile and shakes my hand. "We're very proud of you, Finnick." She tells me. Mayor Hill sees right through the Games, and knows how terrible they are. Her daughter is of reaping age. She could get picked next year, or the year after. We return to the dining room to have dessert, and then we get ready to go home. Cara walks me to the door and kisses my cheek, leaving a lips shaped mark the color of her red lipstick. Grant, Natalie and I leave, and I tell Cara I'll see her around. Natalie chuckles after we leave.

"Jeez, Finnick. Everywhere you go, you have to find a girl. You're gonna get a bit of a reputation." Grant tells me, laughing good-naturedly. I think it's safe to say the last thing I care about is my reputation. I'm a prostitute, for crying out loud. Grant seems to know what I'm thinking, and he pats me on my shoulder. "It's a joke. Being a player would probably be a good rep for you to have. Finnick Odair, player, heartbreaker."

"I don't wanna actually hurt anyone emotionally. All the people I willingly kiss, I do because I think they're attractive, or I care about them. I don't want to be known as a cocky asshole." I argue quietly, making sure nobody is in earshot.

Natalie stops us from walking and pulls us aside. She sighs before telling me the hard truth. "Look, Finnick. I don't think you wanna hear this, but you must notice it a little by now. You're not you. Not anymore, at least. Ever since your name was drawn from that bowl, you've been changed completely. Around your family and close friends, around Grant and I – you can be yourself. But in public, and especially in the Capitol or in front of the press cameras, you're not Finn. You're Finnick Odair, victor and heart throb. You're cocky and flirtatious, and very well aware of how good-looking you are. You spend time with the rich, and take their gifts, and then you're gone and you never come back. Guys want to be you, and girls want to be with you. It's just a bit of acting. Believe me, thats what you need to do. I hate that I'm telling you to be something you're not – but it's for the safety of your loved ones and yourself. If you slip up, you might put them or yourself in a fatal situation. That's just life now, and you need to accept it." She pats my cheek, and steps away. "Let's get you home, okay? You've had a very long day, and now you get to lay low and relax for a couple months. It's like a vacation of sorts."

I thank both Grant and Natalie for everything, and hug them tightly before walking inside. Adrienne stayed up waiting for me to come home. She smiles when she sees me, and stands up to hug me. Adrienne knows I haven't changed, and still treats me the same. I'll never be able to thank her enough for that. "You look like you had fun." She says, and ruffles up my hair a little. "It's late. I know you don't have school in the morning tomorrow, or ever again for that matter, but you still should try to get to bed at a normal hour." I hug her goodnight, and change into my pajamas: a pair of sweatpants. I spend more time shirtless now, and apparently my body is fantastic, so I should show it off. I take a pen and write on the palm of my hand: WWCFD? It stands for What Would Capitol Finnick Do? I need to start acting like who people think I am. But I can deal with that in the morning.

Living like a victor is a lot different from the life I knew before my Games. I wake up at ten thirty every morning, and I go for a run along the beach to clear my head. After that, I come home, eat a late breakfast (brunch, they call it) and swim in the pool or lie in the sun. Around two or three in the afternoon, I check the mail and read the Capitol tabloids. I watch the CEC – Capitol Entertainment Channel, and they always talk about what's going on currently in the Capitol: the latest fashion trends, celebrity drama and gossip. Luckily, I'm never mentioned. I go to Annie's house after school some days and on the weekends. We hang out all the time, but nothing romantic ever develops. I'm okay with that though. Being "just friends" is fine with me. But sometimes I catch her glancing at me, and I wonder if she feels the way I feel about her. Annie Cresta. I like her. A lot. No matter who I make out or have sex with, I care about her, and only her.

The days go by fairly quickly. Before I know it, reaping day is here. That used to terrify me (and it still does, but for no real reason now). On Reaping Day, I wake up an hour later than usual. I pack a bag because I'm going to the Capitol, but it's much less sad than last time. Adri still tears up a little. I dress nicely and meet up with the victors who are going to the Capitol this year. Natalie and I are mentoring – usually the youngest two victors mentor, and both a boy and girl is preferred. Most victors return for the event anyways. Only Grant is coming this year. Mags usually goes, but she doesn't want to this year. I don't blame her.

Instead of waiting in the pen with all the other fifteen year olds, I sit on a stage in a row of chairs on the back of the stage, next to Mayor Hill, Grant and Natalie. Ariel shows the same video that she has since she's been escorting, and gives the same speech. She says "Ladies First!" as always, and calls the name of a twelve year old, who's quickly replaced by an eighteen year old named Stephanie. I've seen her around, she's a classic career. "And now for the boys." I used to tremble at this part. Now I don't, I just fear for whoever is to be reaped. It's a boy my age named Nick. He's shy, and looks terrified. Not that I blame him. Nobody volunteers.

Stephanie and Nick are escorted to the justice building where their friends and family can meet with them. Twenty or so people come to say goodbye to Stephanie. But the only person who says goodbye to Nick is a younger boy who looks like he could be a brother or cousin. We wave goodbye, and get on the train.

Natalie quickly explains the basics of mentoring to me. I'm basically acting like an older friend or role model to them. I ask them about themselves, and I work together with them to create a plan so they can win. What weapons can they use, what should their angle be during the interviews, and the most important question: would they be willing to kill? If the answer to the last question is a definite no, then they probably won't win. Nobody's a victor by chance. We're all bad people.

After our tributes have settled in, Natalie and I talk to them in the lounge car. Natalie starts. "Hey. I'm Natalie, and that's Finnick. I won the 58th Hunger Games. Finnick won last year. Basically, we're here to help you, and we'll be there by your side leading up to the Games, and into the arena. But if you want to win, you need to not be dependent on us. We're here if you need us, but we're not your crutch."

I take over, not wanting Natalie to scare them. "There's another victor, Grant. He's not mentoring this year, but he's coming with us to the Capitol. As mentors, we're friends or people you can confide in. You can come to us for anything, and I mean anything. I'm positive we can bring one of you home this year. We're gonna split up, I'll work with one of you and Natalie will work with the other. Do you two wanna pick who your mentor is?"

"I want you." Stephanie tells me, smiling. Her voice is very high-pitched, and I want to wince a little when she talks.

"And I'd like to work with Natalie if that's okay." Nick mumbles. Thankfully, this worked out well.

We all go to television car to watch the recaps of the reapings. As usual, the tributes from Districts 12, 11 and 10 are weak-looking and malnourished. There's nobody special in District 9, but the boy from 8 seems pretty strong. He might have a chance. I'm caught off-guard when the escort from 7 calls out Johanna Mason. I turn to Natalie, and she's as shocked as I am. "That's her." I gasp. Natalie looks somewhat uncomfortable. There's nobody from Districts 6 or 5, and then they show our reaping. The commentator keeps talking about how dapper I look in my suit, and it aggravates me. District 3 is boring. Districts 1 and 2 have Careers, and they seem pretty scary. I'd say the only threats this year are the tributes from 1 and 2, the boy from 8 and Stephanie. Johanna's scary, but she's tiny. I don't think she would actually hurt anyone. Then again, I don't know her at all. I guess I never will. Unless of course, she wins. I guess we'll have to wait and see. Don't mess up your first time mentoring just because of some District 7 girl. It's not worth it, I remind myself. I need to focus. I'm going to keep Stephanie alive. But first I'll have to talk to her for a little to see if this'll even be possible. She's a classic career, so I have high hopes for her.

Stephanie and I go to her compartment on the train to talk for a little. I sit down uncomfortably on the corner of her bed. It feels weird giving advice to someone older than me, especially someone who probably is better-trained than I am. But I have experience that Stephanie doesn't have. Maybe I can be of help to her. "So Stephanie, do you wanna tell me a little about yourself?" I ask her awkwardly, "Like, your personality, your life back home, what skills you possess, any hidden talents..." I trail off, realizing I sound like a terribly cliché guidance councelor or one of those older teachers who try to be cool and friends with the students, but fail miserably. Great.

Stephanie pauses for a minute, and shrugs. She takes off her grey sweater leaving her in a flattering pink dress. "Well, you can call me Steph. Only my mother calls me Stephanie." From the way she says mother, I can tell that she doesn't have the best relationship with her mom. "I live at home with my parents. I have a brother, but he's twenty-five and has been married for three years. She's three months pregnant. If I die, they're gonna name it after me. I'm kind of a laid-back person, I just like to hang out." Stephanie pauses and jokingly asks, "Am I doing okay? Will I get a grade on this or something?"

I crack a smile at her. "You're doing great. This isn't a test; you're not gonna get graded. I'm just wanna learn about you so we can figure what your strategy in the arena and for your interview will be. So, now skills. I know you went to training like everyone else in District 4 does in school, and you seem like you'd be a Career tribute. Do you have a specialty, or something you're good with? For example, I'm pretty good with a trident. And um, I also wanted to know why you volunteeed." Surprisingly, it isn't that hard to have a conversation with Stephanie. I'm not that bad at this mentoring stuff. I guess I'll also improve over time with more experience.

"Awesome. I always assumed I'd join the career pack. It'd probably be best for me.I'm nowhere near as good as you are with the trident. Um, I can use spears and make knots from being in District 4 all my life, and I learned how to use swords and throw knives from training. I'm actually pretty good at throwing knives. I'll show you after dinner if you'd like." Steph tells me, and I smile a bit. She seems like she'll do well. She's pretty well rounded. Steph takes a deep breath before answering my last question. "Well, in all honesty, I don't know. I just felt like I was supposed to be in the Games this year. I don't even know the girl I volunteered for. But she came to visit me before we left, and she was crying and was so thankful, that I feel like even if I do die, which could happen to me easily – this is the Hunger Games, it would be okay because that little girl doesn't have to die." She looks down, as if she's somehow embarrassed by her statement. I think that's amazing. I decide I like Stephanie.

For the rest of the two-day train ride to the Capitol, I try to keep Steph's mind off the Capitol. By doing so, I keep my mind off that wretched place. We chat for hours until she falls asleep, and tell stories from when we grew up. It's nice to be close friends with someone who doesn't judge you, even if only for a little. As soon as we step off the train in the Capitol, she'll see me become a different person.

And, I do. I go from the real Finnick that I've been for most of my fifteen years of existence to the cocky teenage celebrity sex god that the Capitol recognizes me as. I don't know if I like this double-life of sorts, but I don't really have a choice either way. If I'm given a part, I'll play it. Especially if my loved one's lives are on the line. If I screw up, Annie, Sebastian, Cara (if he saw us kiss, and Snow sees everything) or even Dahlia (when she's older) could get reaped. So I can't mess up. I just have to perfect, so I will be. As soon as Steph and Nick step off the train in the Capitol station followed by Ariel, the crowd screams. It escalates to a deafening roar when Grant, Natalie and I step off the train, bags in hand. I smile seductively and wink at a few women, who faint. Do they not care I'm fifteen years old? The Capitol loves, no obsesses over me, and I'm not of legal age for another year. Not that they care. It's disgusting. I try to turn my thoughts off. I can't break my facade. There's too much at stake; I have everything to lose. I'm the most powerful and most vulnerable I've ever been in my whole life at the same time.

We take a limo to the training center. We don't see any of the other tributes, but I see a few victors I recognize from over the years: Chaff, a man with one arm from District 11 who's been with a bottle and Haymitch for the last fifteen years. Brutus, the crazily energetic and ridiculously muscular victor from 2. He won the 52nd Hunger Games, the year before Grant. Brutus loves mentoring, and has done it every year since he was crowned at the age of eighteen. He was and still is a classic Career.

Steph and Nick are stunned by the beauty and extravagance of the Capitol. I don't blame them, it's astonishing and marvelous, but so wasteful for no reason. I've been moved to a mentor's room – which is twice the size and has so many more amenities. The mentors will be here until the Games are over, while the tributes will not, except, of course for the victor. I lay on my bed, just relaxing. The tributes are are meeting up with their stylists, and the tribute parade is later tonight. Then they have three days of training and after the interview they're sent off into the arena. According to the small slip of paper on my desk, I have two hour-long appointments today. My car will pick me up in an hour, so I probably should get ready, but there's not much to do. I just put on nice clothes, and fix up my hair before leaving. Grant shoots me a sympathetic look, and walks down with me. I notice he looks well-dressed too. "You too?" I ask after the elevator doors close behind us. Grant nods, but doesn't make eye contact with me.

Grant gets dropped off first. We both have two today. My first buyer is a somewhat short plump woman with orange colored hair and matching skin. I think her alterations are hideous and she wears too much makeup, but I never say that, god no. I compliment and charm the pants off her. Not that it takes that much work to do. She did pay a small fortune for me. It's probably pocket change for a Capitol socialite like herself. Anyways, she's pretty good, but it's hard to get off when the person you're fucking is strange. Regardless, customer satisfaction comes first.

After, we lay in her plush bed for a little. After a few moments, I get an idea. What if I ask her something? Surely these Capitol people have a few dirty secrets. "Tell me a secret?" I ask, unsure. I quickly compose myself, and smirk to keep up the act. She smiles and sighs, leaning back on the headboard before answering my question.

My second client isn't tolerable at all. I don't realize until I get upstairs to the apartment that the person who has paid to have sex with me is a man. *

I get in the car, yelping in pain as I sit on my sore ass. Grant raises an eyebrow in confusion, and I sigh. "I officially hate boys." I tell him unhappily. He shudders and pats my shoulder sympathy. Yep, I hate boys. Even more than I hate girls. I don't like boys – I like girls and their boobs and butts and soft hair and pretty faces. I don't like other people's junk anywhere near me. Especially in me. If I didn't before, I definitely hate President Snow. No, hate doesn't begin to describe the absolute detestation I feel when I think of him. I bite my tongue so hard I taste the metallic tinge of blood, and I begin to see red. I want to kill him. But I can't. I vow that before I die, he will. And I promise that he will suffer.

Grant groans in frustration and leans his head back on the car seat. "Look, I know you don't want to hear this, but you need to hear it. You need to realize you don't have a choice in this stuff. You just have to go with it and try not to cause any problems. I know it's gonna be very hard – its an almost impossible task for me, but you have to try. So the only thing you can do right now is just put your foot in your mouth and suck it up. You're saving lives, even if it means being unhappy for an hour or so. Your family is safe, that's all that matters." I nod, taking in his advice. He's one hundred percent right.

We get back to the training center with an hour before the tribute parade is going to start. Natalie is sitting at the table, cigarette in hand. She's chatting with a drunk Haymitch Abernathy. She waves hello when we come in, and stands up to walk out. She's wearing a tight red dress and oh. Not her too. It seems like every single victor a prostitute or something. Haymitch rolls his eyes and guffaws. "Jeez, kid. You wreak. Take a shower." I frown a little – I smell like a disgusting combination of sweat, Capitol perfume and the musky scent of sex.

"Thanks dad." I smirk and roll my eyes at him before taking a quick shower. Sometimes, I'd sit in shower for hours at a time, just reflecting about life and other things. But I just wash my body and hair using the ridiculously large selection of creams and soaps from the electronic dispenser that takes up one of the whole shower walls. I find one that sort of smells like the ocean, and decide to use it. Even though its artificial and too strong to be the sea from District 4, it's close enough. I smell like home. I wrap a towel around my waist and go out to the living room to grab a soda or something. Grant, Haymitch and another guy who looks to be nineteen or twenty stop talking and just stare at me in disbelief when they see what I'm wearing, or lack thereof. "What?" I ask them, and grab a can of soda from the fridge. I ignore the blonde avox in the corner checking me out. Not her too.

I take a few sips and put on a powder blue polo shirt with dress pants. I think I look pretty good. I comb my damp hair and run my fingers through it to mess it up a little, and walk back out to finish my soda. "Look, he's wearing clothes." Grant says jokingly, seeing me. He laughs a little, and then motions for me to sit down next to him in a chair. "This is Blight. He won the 62nd Hunger Games. Blight, this is the famous Finnick Odair." Grant introduces us. I roll my eyes at his comment, and then say hello to Blight. I remember his games, they were one of the remotely boring ones. It was a desert, and most of the tributes died from dehydration in the first three or four days. But Blight was smart, cutting open plants to find water and getting gifts from sponsors. He also was able to get an awl at the Cornucopia, which he used for both food and killing. I always admired his survival skills. We don't have time to talk for long though, since the tribute parade is going to start soon.

The tributes are in the usual cliched outfits from their districts; Steph and Nick are wearing sea themed outfits with little fish on them. I think it's hideous, but the crowd seems to love it. That's really all that matters. "The stylist from 7 is ridiculous. She's been dressing us up in tree costumes for as maybe thirty years." Blight tells me, frowning unhappily. District 7 produces lumber for all of Panem, and it's hard to dress someone up as a log, so they get stuck with trees. "I guess it could be worse, we could be coal miners." He shrugs, and we both laugh a little. Haymitch, who I didn't even realize is right behind us, laughs too.

"You have no idea how annoying those friggin' costumes are." Haymitch grumbles. I'm beginning to understand his drunken slurred speech. "Coal miners, or worse, coal by itself." I smile a little, not knowing what to say in response. I hear Blight mumble an oh great, and I look to see the tributes from district seven. They're wearing wood-print brown jumpsuits and green headpieces that I think are supposed to look like leaves. Johanna scowls, and looks right past the audience. She doesn't wave or smile. Yet, I'm still drawn to her like an insect to a flame. She's mesmerizing.

A/N: How was that? Review if you liked it!

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