A/N: Luke's POV

As soon as we arrived at breakfast, Ligeia and I were told that we would begin training for interviews as soon as we finished our food. I wondered vaguely what they would have to teach us that would take so long, but it was a foolish though. Mags spent several hours alone teaching me how to stand, walk, sit, and smile properly for an audience. Apparently, I didn't have much presence, and so she was constantly adjusting my posture, flicking me hard on the shoulder when I wasn't sitting or standing exactly as she had taught me twenty minutes prior.

"Is this really necessary?" I moaned, flinched as she flicked my shoulder for the fifth time as I was attempting to sit properly, according to Mags's standards. "I mean, they won't even be looking at me when I'm not with Caesar, and then I'll be standing."

"There will be at least one sponsor looking out at all times, I promise you," Mags insisted. "Consider yourself an actor from this moment on whenever you are not in this apartment. Someone is always watching, and you are expected to hold up the persona Finnick works out with you this morning, is that understood?"

I told her it was very much understood and she kept me for another twenty minutes until she was satisfied that I could managed myself well enough and sent me over to Finnick to work on the content of my interview.

Content didn't mean what I was talking about specifically, as no one knew the questions or opportunities that might arise on stage. Some people worked out what they were going to say and found a way to work it in no matter if it fit or not, but Finnick didn't advise this. I had nothing special to say, anyway.

No, content was the word used to describe the persona I would be channeling. Finnick had been charming, Scarlett Delannoy had been sweet, but the most important thing about the choice of persona, beyond the fact that a poorly executed interview could be a deterrent for potential sponsors, was that victors were by and large expected to carry on that persona for the rest of their lives, in public, anyway.

I sat down across from Finnick, looking out at the Capitol streets. I knew Ligeia would be learning presentation and presence from Mags as I fumbled through my mock interview, and I wasn't sure if I envied or pitied her.

"We're going with likeable for you," Finnick said, smiling at me. "That shouldn't be a problem. Neither of you were really that hard to pinpoint."

"Let me guess," I said dryly, "Ligeia's angle is to be sexy like her cousin?"

"She actually suggested it before the words got out of my mouth," Finnick laughed. "Which is good, if you think about it, because if I'd suggested it, it would be the last thing she would possibly want to do."

That was certainly true, knowing Ligeia's semi-rational hatred of and distrust toward Finnick.

"So," I said slowly, "how are we going about making me be likeable?"

It turns out, for something that shouldn't have been a problem, it still managed to take several hours of mock questions and lecturing on demeanor and what I wasn't allowed to say. Apparently I had a self-defacing tone, which was good, but I needed to also be confident.

"How can I be self-defacing and confident at the same time?" I asked, rubbing the heels of my palms over my closed eyes in frustration.

"You say confident things," Finnick explained calmly, "but you say them in a way that doesn't sound cocky or self-important, like you know Sebastien's going to do."

He was right, Sebastien was certainly going to be self-important and boisterous, much like he had been during training, attempting to intimidate the other tributes, and I had a picture in my mind of how Ligeia would play her part, stroking his ego and flirting until he was dead and then taking over with her own brand of brutality and intimidation. She would know it wouldn't be safe to try to defy or control Sebastien, but she would be preparing herself for his downfall.

After several hours of practice, Finnick declared me prepared, taking me down to see my stylist, who began showing me the suit I would wear, which was just a simple but stylish sea-green suit. The prep team went about fixing my hair and pressing makeup onto my skin. I wondered if they ever dealt with someone who told them they didn't want the makeup or that they wanted more normal-looking clothes. Perhaps it had happened during the earlier years of the Games, but I suspected that a long-standing conspiracy went between the mentors and the stylists, warning all fresh tributes to do as the stylist told them.

I paced nervously around knowing that any minute I would be told it was time to go down for the interviews. Caesar Flickerman would be interviewing us, yet again. He was an old familiar face, doing interviews for about a quarter of a century. He hadn't aged a day, although he always had a different color of wig and eyebrows when he did a new set of Games. I speculated what color he might have used for this year, thinking it was possibly some sort of vomity yellow-green. I shuddered at the thought.

"All right," Finnick said patting me on the back. "You'll be fine. Chin up. Don't let the other tributes get under your skin. Listen to their three minutes, but focus on the content of yours. You can't do anything about how anyone performs today but you, so keep that in mind and you'll be golden, okay?"

I nodded, trying to ignore the fact that I was a bit sick to my stomach, and that seeing Ligeia's smug expression in her wispy blue dress that showed more leg than was probably healthy for the population of Panem to witness only made my head spin more.

We lined up in order, females in each District going before the male. Having to walk behind Ligeia made my head spin even more, I realized, as I tried to keep myself from looking at her legs.

The last person to arrive was Draven Dupre, looking smug and suave in his white suit, which made his dark hair stand out even more. I noted that several of the girls tittered and giggled when he arrived and I rolled my eyes, exchanging a dark look with Finley, who acted as though he was trying to catch my eye, but I knew he was ogling at Ligeia's legs.

We were called out onto the stage and I could feel my knees knocking, hoping that I wouldn't fall over when I got to the stage, on television, in front of all of Panem.

Caesar Flickerman had three minutes to talk to each of us, starting with Violet from District One, who was trying to charming, then Sebastien who was attempting mysterious and bold. Catriona went for humble and thrilled to be there. Finley looked a bit out of sorts, because apparently he and Sebastien had wanted to go for the same sort of angle, but it didn't work half as well for Finley.

"So, Ligeia," Caesar said. "Your cousin was a tribute just two years ago. How difficult was it to watch her die?"

Ligeia pursed her lips and gave a tight sort of smile. I was very curious how she was going to make herself sexier through this line of questioning.

"It was difficult," she said with a nod. "Losing a loved one is never easy, but it's my hope to avenge her this time around, set our family back into honor."

Suddenly I got a feeling in the pit of my stomach that avenging her cousin would mean killing me. At the end of her three minutes, it was my turn.

"And now, join me in welcoming Luke Maddox, District Four!"

I went forward to where Caesar was, trying not to shake. Caesar greeted me with a handshake and I stared at his periwinkle eyebrows, trying not to let the roar of the audience make me even more nauseous. I looked out to where the mentors were and saw Finnick sitting next to Scarlett Delannoy, whispering something in her ear, but he smiled and gave me a nod.

It was all I could do not to swallow a bit.

"Luke, tell me, are you excited to be here?"

"Yes, sir," I said with a smile. "It's a dream come true."

There was a rush of excitement in the audience and I just tried to smile, but I knew it came across as a nervous smile. I could feel my stomach churning.

"You volunteered, Luke," Caesar said. "Can you explain to Panem what was going through your mind as you stepped forward?"

I took a deep breath, trying to think back to reaping day. It felt like so long ago, although it had been only several days ago.

"I was thinking about my family," I said. "I was thinking about my family and how proud they would be if I were chosen."

"I'll bet they were proud," Caesar said with a grin.

"Yes, sir," I said, smiling genuinely. I didn't feel nervous after that, talking to him about my family, answering questions about my sister. Three minutes went by surprisingly fast and I found myself not breathing a sigh of relief when it was time for District Five. I tried to listen to the others, but I found myself getting caught up watching the lights on the stage and wondering what ridiculous clothes the Capitol people were wearing.

Blake of District Six also went for charming, and he might have gotten away with it if he didn't still look like such a child. Charlotte Jacobsen of District Seven really took the cake, in my opinion, her jealousy of Scarlett Delannoy leaking off of her in waves. Not to mention, she attempted to be sexy but looked a bit more like a potato in a dress.

"So, Charlotte, do you think you've got what it takes to win?" Caesar asked eagerly.

"Absolutely," she said in a voice that probably seemed seductive in her mind. "After all, Scarlett Delannoy won, so how hard can it really be?"

If I hadn't been in the zone with my expressions like Mags taught me, my jaw would have dropped to the floor at that. She actually spent the rest of her three minutes talking about all of the things she'd beat Scarlett at growing up, and I so badly wanted Caesar to ask her what things Scarlett beat Charlotte at, but it was his job to make us all look our best, so he would never have done that.

Her district partner, Cephalus, was nice enough, pulling out likable, but he would have the disadvantage of being paired with Charlotte, who no sponsor in their right mind would want to support.

Draven Dupre was called forward after his district partner, Freya, proved herself to be quite a comedienne. He shook Caesar's hand firmly and settled in like he owned the stage.

It was clear in a matter of seconds that he was going for an aloof angle. He was above it all, and I got shivers down my spine just thinking about how deserved this angle would be, in spite of his surprisingly low training score.

"Have you got your eye on a special girl, Draven?" Caesar asked. "You're tall, dashing. Anyone special in your life?"

"Well to be honest, Caesar, I've had my eye on a girl for a bit," he said with a smile, "but she doesn't know me. I'm planning to win for her, and hoping she'll fall in love with me, but I doubt she'll be overly impressed."

"And why's that?"

"She won last year," Draven said with a smile. "I spent last summer falling in love with Scarlett Delannoy."

The audience tittered with surprise and gushing and Caesar expressed what a good-looking couple they would be, and by their calculations, he was two months older than her, and so by her own words, she was eligible for consideration because she wasn't younger than him.

Finnick was still laughing about it when Ligeia and I gathered with him and Mags to discuss how our interviews went and to say our final farewells before the Games.

"It was refreshing, having Scarlett's love life talked about with someone other than me in the picture," he sighed, finally coming down from a particularly violent bout of laughter.

Mags was obviously entertained, but she had a much more serious expression as she considered us.

"Any last minute advice before we go to sleep, then?" Ligeia said impatiently, obviously less than interested in Finnick's interest in Scarlett Delannoy's love life.

"Just remember everything we've told you," Mags said calmly. "Don't forget to hold your heads up high and don't be intimidated by the other Careers or anyone else. No matter how you feel about them as people or who's got a higher training score, you two both have what it takes to win, and don't you forget it."

"Sounds good," Ligeia said dismissively. "Night."

I watched her, knowing I looked like a wide-eyed idiot as she walked off to her room to take a shower and go to bed. When she was out of sight, I turned back to Mags and Finnick, who were raising their eyebrows at each other.

"Well," Mags sighed, "I suppose that's my cue for bed as well. Luke, best of luck. Fight hard."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, smiling. "Sleep well."

"You sleep well," she replied, heading down the hall. "It might be your last night of real sleep. Make it count."

I swallowed hard, trying not to look as scared as I felt as I turned to Finnick, who was considering his glass of orange juice carefully. I just watched him for a moment, wondering if he was going to give me any advice, but realizing he was lost in his world, that something was bothering him.

My first instinct was to go to bed, but as this might be the last time I would ever see Finnick, who'd already done so much for me, it didn't seem right to leave him like that, staring at a glass of orange juice looking like he was trying to figure out why it had offended him.

"Finnick?" I said softly.

"Mmm."

"Are you okay?"

He shrugged.

I paused, wondering if maybe I shouldn't just go to bed, but I'd come this far. It was no good turning back.

"Finnick, you're looking at that orange juice like it's the key to solving poverty if you could make it purple."

He snorted, looking up at me and said, "I'll bet an Avox could get me something to turn it purple in about five minutes. I'm fine, Luke. Be worried about yourself. I'm not the one going into the arena tomorrow."

For a moment, I didn't know what to say. Yes, I would be going into the arena, but he very obviously wasn't fine, and it felt so much better to focus on someone else's problems for just a little while. But it was also obvious that Finnick wasn't ready to open up to me right away, so I had to figure out some way to turn talking about me into talking about him….

"What's it like, killing somebody?"

Finnick just looked back at the orange juice for a full minute before saying, "It gets easier."

"Is it ever easy?" I whispered.

"It can be," he sighed. "Sometimes it feels more natural than breathing, but that doesn't mean the next one will be. Killing Stella was almost easier than it should have been, but killing Alana was a lot harder than it ought to have been. But you may not have to kill very many people. There's always anomalies, deadly people who make a point of proving themselves the most deadly who don't leave much for anyone else, or particularly vicious arenas that lay waste to the whole group, leaving only a handful of people to battle out the rest."

"What about after the killing?" I said. "Is being a victor as easy and nice as everyone says it is?"

Finnick looked up at me, obviously surprised. Aidan must not have asked him that question. I wondered if it was a question many tributes asked, especially Careers. Once I thought about it, it was the sort of thing tributes out to have asked more often, trying to decide whether it was worth living at that point. From what I'd seen on Scarlett Delannoy's face, being a victor didn't make all of a person's problems disappear.

"No, it's not necessarily," Finnick said slowly. "Some things get easier. Feeding family is easier. You don't have to work a regular job like at the docks or on the sea. But you have to keep up your persona, to watch the kids you train and mentor die despite your best efforts, and on the off chance they might survive you still give it your all to keep them alive because it's better than dying some gruesome arena death. At least," he said smirking eerily down at his juice, "that's what we tell ourselves, that it's better to be alive, because otherwise we'd have a hard time living with the things we had to do to stay breathing." He sighed heavily and said, "Because I'll tell you, Luke, the hardest part about killing somebody isn't killing somebody. It's the afterward, the living with it when all's said and done and you see them every night in your dreams, taking their revenge. The ones who don't see them are lying and the ones who aren't lying aren't saying it to your face and the ones who are saying it to your face don't have anywhere near the worst of it."

Suddenly I understood why he was so worried about Scarlett Delannoy, the most recent victor. He was sure she was seeing the faces of the dead and that she wasn't dealing well with the haunting.

"She'll talk when she can't handle her demons alone," I said softly. "She trusts you more than most. Good night, Finnick."

He just blinked and watched as I headed off to bed, hoping I would get my last decent night of sleep, maybe of the rest of my life.