"Give us some specifics, boy," Daivat's grandfather says from across the room, sipping on his spirits and assorted drinks. The gamemaker, Salvatore sits in a chair across from Daivat, studying him curiously. Five other gamemakers are scattered around the room, listening. Plutarch Heavensbee is even there, listening in on the conversations.
Daivat leans back in the lounge chair and ponders this. What does he want his wife to be like? She certainly needs to be beautiful. But he wants something more…
"I want her to be unique. I want her to be the dazzling gem of the Capitol. She needs to be bright and intelligent—no air-headed girls that don't have their own thoughts and opinions." Satisfied with his answer, he takes a sip of Brandy.
His grandfather says, "Be careful what you wish for. Thoughts and opinions can ruin this nation, Daivat." Then President Snow addresses Salvatore. "She must be obedient. No rebels or smart-mouths."
Salvatore and his gamemakers jot down the notes on their electronic touch pads.
"So, tell me again how this is going to go?" Daivat asks curiously, furrowing his blonde-ish eyebrows. "I will have the final say in the end, correct?"
Salvatore nods immediately. "Yes, yes, of course. All you need to know for right now is that you and your grandfather are going to choose one girl per district - there will be three from each, but you will narrow them down to one. The rest we will tell you as we go along."
"And don't forget me, Salvatore," President Snow says from across the room. Salvatore halts momentarily. Swallowing hard, he tries to recover.
"Of course, President Snow, you will always have a say." Salvatore clears his throat nervously and continues his speech. "Also, we've made wedding arrangements so that you will marry the girl exactly a month after she is announced the victor. It will be early June by then and just before the next Hunger games."
"Good," Daivat says with a smile. "Can't wait to see what the stylists pick out."