I don't own the Hunger Games. Enjoy, my lovelies!

Quince was born and raised in the Capitol, she tells me. Her parents were often out partying, so it was just Quince and her older brother named Marcus at home. Around age ten, she realized she could come and go when she pleased. Her parents never noticed her long absences, and the huge Capitol was a great source of entertainment.

She would have snuck out during the Hunger Games, but that was the one time her parents required her. In the Capitol, it was customary to hold huge feasts and parties during the Games. Quince, being a higher official's daughter, was made to attend. Quince hated the Hunger Games. She hated to watch, but watch she must.

So she attended until she was fourteen. During this time, she and her brother had grown a slight bit closer, but she had been monitoring him. She picked up on his disgust of the Games as well. No matter how well he tried to hide it, she always noticed, although her parents never did. One night, she confronted him. "I know you hate the Hunger Games," she said. He was too surprised to reply, so she continued. "I hate it too. Watching innocent kids like us get murdered? By other kids? It could have been us, if we had grown up in the districts."

He nodded. "That's, that's why it gets me."

The next Hunger Games were a few weeks after that. Much to Quince' parents' surprise, President Snow arrived at their doorstep. "I wondered if I might join you," he said. This was the first sign. President Snow never went out during the Games. He watched in his private mansion. Period. Late that night, he tapped Quince's shoulder.

Quince tells me she never forgot what happens, so even when it is nearly four years later, she recalls every detail.

He said, "I wondered if I could talk to you. You see, I know your parents so well, but not you. And if you are to be married to a high official as I'm sure you will, I must get to know you. Your brother? I know. But not you. Come, we'll get some food and talk." He directed her to the kitchen, where he carefully examined a sweet caramel sugar. "So. I hear you hate the Hunger Games. My own television show. Why?"

"I—I don't think it's right," Quince blurted and immediately tried to talk herself out of it. "Well, I-um, don't mean that truthfully, I just think, that, um, we should have it more often. It's not right the capitol only gets to see it once a year."

Snow chuckled. "Oh, my dear, arenas aren't built in a day, you know. However, I'm sure we would all love your wonderful suggestion." He smiled, making his bloated lips look even bigger. "Any reason for that?"

"I just really love the parties and food, it is a lot of fun," she lied through her teeth.

Snow picked up a ladleful of mint soup. "I'll keep that in mind, my dear," he said before returning to another man who eagerly joined in conversation.

Only that night as he left for his mansion, he whispered in Quince's ear as he headed to the limo. "I'd think you would lie better if you value your life, my dear."

That night Quince heard a soft knock at her door. Thinking it was Snow's goons, she armed herself with a lamp before cautiously opening the door. It was Marcus. "Hey, guess what?" he asked, brandishing a piece of paper. "I made up a secret code!"

That was the beginning of her plan. Marcus and Quince planned to escape right after the next Hunger Games. The night after the victor's interview with Caesar Flickerman, they would escape. The siblings made barely noticeable preparations. And that night of the interview, they ran.

'You know the rest of the story,' Quince writes on the paper, which is nearly full by now.'We had made it to Twelve. We didn't really know where we were going. We knew Snow was following us. Then we saw you.'

"And we didn't help. I'm so sorry, Quince. That was your brother," I say my voice breaking.

'My brother was killed instantly. They took me to the place where Peeta was staying when I met him. They made me into an Avox.'

A strange fascination consumes me. I want to know how she became an Avox. But at the same time, I don't want to know. "What-"

'I don't usually like to talk about it,' Quince writes, understanding me perfectly. 'But there is not much to tell. They only put my mouth under anesthetic. They strapped me to the operating table. I could see every move the scalpel made. So I closed my eyes. And I suppose I passed out. Because I woke up later an Avox.'

I am quiet. The horrors Quince must have. She must have nightmares too. "I—I.." My voice trails off. I do not know what to say.

Thankfully, a knock sounds on my door. I go and open it. It is Johanna. "Listen, Fire Girl, I'm really sorry about yesterday. I didn't mean to cut you off-" She stops. "Who's that?"

"Um, this is Quince," I say. It seems odd that I am the one introducing the two, when I never had what one could call friends until after the arena. Besides Gale, of course. "Quince, meet Johanna."

Quince attempts a smile.

"Okay. Um. So. Listen, I really would love to room with you and the redhead, but I really can't. I can't tell you either. Maybe Prim could. But listen, Haymitch is like that all the time. Apparently when you and him got caught in those bombs something went wrong on the inside. The doctors think it didn't affect you because you're younger, stronger. It was poison gas. They've got most of it out of his system but there's still a little left. And he's confused. I think it was some modified version of what they gave Peeta. I—I need to go now. Bye." She turns and dashes down the hallway, the same route she ran down yesterday.

Quince gives me a questioning look, and without thinking I pour out the entire story. About Haymitch, and how we were caught in the bombs, and how he nearly died, and how Johanna and Haymitch both have 'problems' and how Haymitch is especially grumpy, and how Johanna is keeping a lot of secrets.

'Maybe we can figure it out together,' Quince suggests. 'But now it is dinnertime. We should go.' Quince sets down her paper and together we walk down to the dining hall. The citizens of 13 eat in shifts because it's not large enough for each person to have a spot. Prim told me a while ago that 13's total population was about five thousand. The auditorium seats nearly two times that. 13 eats in five shifts, since it has two equally sized dining halls. About seven hundred fit in each hall, but there only need to be around 500 people per shift.

We take our food and sit at a round table near the Hawthornes. Gale is conspicuously absent. I wonder why, but decide he must be in Command, since that's where he apparently spends much of his days. Prim and my mother, Peeta, Haymitch and Johanna are all missing too, but they're probably eating in the hospital.

So it's Finnick and Annie that sit at our lonely table. Annie wears a wooden ring Finnick made when he came with me hunting one day. Finnick confessed he'd used the old sugar cube charm on Greasy Sae to get the knife. Evidently, even Greasy Sae and her wild root stew can't resist the charm of Finnick Odair.

Finnick wears no ring, but it's obvious who he's engaged to.

"Hey, guess what?" Finnick says. "They are working on another propo, and I get to be in it!" He smiles brightly, flashing his dazzling smile.

"Great," I say sarcastically. It probably means that I'll need to be there too, all Mockingjay-like. Whopee-dopee doo.

"No, it's going to be really great!" he says, "but I can't tell you yet. Anyways, who's this?" He motions to Quince.

"This is Quince," I say. "Quince, Finnick and Annie."

Quince smiles, a bit better than her earlier smiles. She probably didn't have a lot to smile about in the Capitol.

Annie looks cautiously over at Quince. "Are you an Avox?" she asks quietly. Quince nods.

I realize Annie is much more present with Finnick here too. It's something that I strangely love, these two people who care for eachother so much, and I wish my romantic interests could be that simple.

We are all quiet after this, but I don't mind. It's a nice quiet.

So, whaddya think of Quince's story? And Johanna and Haymitch's arc is making progress...any guesses as to what has Finnick in a tizzy?

Feel free to rant and rave in the reviews. I dare you to find one thing you don't like about this story. Don't say "There's nothing wrong with it!" My feelings won't be hurt, I promise. I dare you to do it! :)

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Your horrible, mean, cliffhanger loving author, fuzzysocksandwriting