Their kiss of parting was disrupted when the waiting avox pulled open the car door. The dramatically made up faces of self-important Capitolites were distorted more disgustingly than usual as they gawked at the gorgeous sibling victors. Emerging together into the packed gala, the pair was immediately split apart by the groping hands of current and potential patrons.
All Cashmere wanted was to break away from these humanoid muttations, slide her hand through Gloss' tuxedo'd arm, and disappear into the night. She wished Gloss were the last man in Panem, the only man allowed to touch her. Instead, every quarter hour that passed found her with a different man grabbing her ass, 'accidentally' spilling his drink down the front of her dress, or slobbering kisses along her neck in a 'seductive' manner.
Love will destroy us all.