Young Blood.

Can't help myself but count the flaws, claw my way out through these walls.

Clementine Veal, District One Escort.

"Clementine, you're almost ready to go," My assistant, Moore, says quietly. "A few more minutes."

I look to Moore, giving him the slightest of smiles as I pick up my glass of wine, taking another sip. I admit, I love District One. Such a beautiful place! And to think, I started out in that horrible District Twelve, full of those coal people. Once my wine is finished, I watch as my personal stylist applies another layer of pink lipstick. Her eyes train my dress, my hair, and I know she's jealous.

"You're up."

I flash a brilliant smile, standing ready for another beautiful place. Once Moore has evacuated, I let my stylist give me one more look of envy, before strutting out of the room. The door opens, the bright light of Panem beams in and I grin to the bored looking faces of the children. Well, most bored.

Something I've learned about One, volunteers are common, bored looking faces are another. Most of these children aren't going to dash for the limelight for another few years, but the older ones, you see the gleam in their ideas.

I take the microphone in my hand. "Welcome to the Sixty-Sixth annual Hunger Games!"

A few, small cheers ring out from the older ones, but the younger lot keep their stony expressions. I sit back, waiting for the video of our wonderful President to start and finish, before moving back into place and over slightly towards the male bowl. Of course, I know, there's no point to actually expect to grab a slip.

I dig around, flicking for my first slip of this year. I pull it forth, but as per usual, the boys all begin to rush forward. Everyone grabs and pulls each other, like the animals they could easily become, before one powers over the others and gets onto the stage, toned skin and dark hair a wonder.

Smiling, I place my hand on his shoulder and place the microphone between us. "And what is your name?"

"Garnet, Garnet Stone."

His flashes a smile of his own, wonderfully bright, before crossing his arms and showing off his impressive muscles.

I move away, heading over to the girls, but I don't even make it. The boys running causes quite the stir, like usual. The girls run forward, but my eyes find one in particular. Her red hair flips as she runs past the others, knocking the more petite girls out the way. She jumps onto the stage, not even taking the steps, panting hard. I offer her the microphone, and once she's calmed down, she takes it.

"Astor Sheen."

I take it back, ushering the pair to move closer. They shake hands, though Astor a bit reluctantly, before I wrap my arms around their shoulders eagerly.

"Our tributes! What a beautiful pair!"

Parlor Frost, District Two Escort.

I wait patiently in my spot, letting the potential tributes all fill in the area, covering the pens and looking most definitely not too pleased. Brutus and Enobaria come out the doors, expressions emotionless as they take their seats, though I see the glimmer of Enobaria's golden tipped teeth, at her age, as well. Only sixteen years old this year.

As Brutus notices me, however, I get the same dirty wink as I normally get.

He will never understand there is no chance, but still, his chances are amusing and the attention is more than flattering.

I flip my long black hair over my shoulder, adjusting my outfit and running a finger over my lip, just to make sure my blue lipstick stays perfect.

A smirk forms on my face as the trainees enter the Square, decked out in their all too familiar leather black jackets, each one looking more murderous and twisted as the kid before them. They fill their pens, though I know there deal. They think us escorts are silly and unintelligent. But of course we know. Like every year, one child is already picked and perfected for volunteering, that's why they tend to have older tributes compared to most districts.

"Welcome boys and girls," I drawl, switching the microphones between my hands constantly. "I hope this year is even better than the last."

It doesn't take me long to grab the male slip from the bowl. Just grab the first, that's what they told me. The first and wait for some ignorant child to shout out the fateful words.

"Our male tributes is..." I stop, building the awaiting anticipation. "C-"

"I volunteer!"

I scan the area, seeing the abnormally beautiful but leather-clad boy walk forward. Older, of course. His short blonde hair is slightly styled, muscles bulging through the clothing he's been given. He slips through the teenagers, climbs up the steps and takes a cold, hardened look at the camera, jaw clenched.

"Name?"

He pauses for a moment, before sighing harshly. "Theo Cassius."

"Lovely," I drawl again, before motioning over to the girls and picking the first slip once more.

"And, of course, our wonderful female tribute this year is... B-"

This time, she doesn't even speak. The girl, once again abnormally beautiful for this district, moves forward with a tight leather jacket on and golden curls swishing with each of her steps. She mounts the stage, taking her time and enjoying each moment she gains in attention.

My face contorts into disgust a little as I hand her the microphone.

"Delaney Robb," she speaks with an even voice. "The one and only."

Decima Pozzle, District Three Escort.

I don't understand how I'm always stuck with District Three every year. None of these tributes ever win, never even past the bloodbath! Each face is cold, stony and greased up with sweat and streaks of mud. I don't even understand where they get the mud from, but it's there, smothered across their faces as if they've been working hard.

Do you know who has been working hard? Me!

I do everything I can to at least give this pathetic district a winner, but each year, I do all the work and the silly children get themselves killed within minutes.

Wiress and Beetee were an exception.

But then again, I never escorted for either of their years. The kids pack in, many with their glasses and dark hair and just everything that seems so Three-ish, it's no surprise we have no winner. Arenas tend to be about survival, not electronics, and these poor people haven't understood that yet. Shuffling in my dress, I grab my microphone and grin wildly as I move into my position properly.

"Welcome!" I cheer, with no response. Sighing, I move to the first bowl, the wonderful females. "So, lets recognise our female tribute this year..."

A few bustle of children, the anticipation rising.

"Addilyn Helix!"

I scan the area, seeing the tell-tale sign of girls parting, isolating the girl in question. Her blonde hair, almost white, streaks in front of her pale face. She blinks a few times, obviously shocked, taking a few deep breaths as she moves forward really slowly and surprisingly, calm.

She climbs the stage, a blank look of her face as she stands there. I take a moment to study her... Very pretty and not at all dirty and streaked like the others.

"Hmm," I smile, crossing for the boys bowl. "And her wonderful partner this year is... Gage Anton!"

A whistle rings out. A boy, very good-looking with dark hair, moves through the crowd with a devilish smirk on his face. Confident looking, possibly even a little happy at the prospect of winning. We may have a winner indeed!

Mounting the steps, he smiles mischievously at Addilyn, before shaking her unresponsive hand.

"Our tributes, everybody!" I beam. "We might have another winner yet!"

Aquila Biel, District Four Escort.

"Do you think you'll have a great bunch of tributes this year?" Horence asks, taking a sip of his wine and giggling.

I smile, taking a sip of my own. "Well, I hope so. Finnick Odair was such great publicity for me. If I can pull another winner, I'm sure to get promoted and knock that awful Clementine off her spot and claim District One for my own."

"Try your hardest then, my dear."

I knock my entire glass, gaining another drunken giggle from him. "Oh I will. Cross your fingers for me, darling, this year is definitely mine once more."

I leave the room, not even accepting the help of my personal Avox, who attempts to open the door before I grab it myself with a grunt. Sometimes, I wonder why I even need personal assistants and help. I'm more than capable of looking after myself. We don't get a lot of winners for no reason.

When I step out onto the platform, my mind takes in the scenery of the sea, rolling against the brown sand. The cerulean sky, the white sun, the hot pavement glistening underneath the feet of the children. Most of the kids are dressed in shorts, shirts and sandals.

Moving over to the boy's bowl, I pull forth the first slip as a girl mounts the stage, calm and collected, completely catching me off-guard.

"Excuse me?"

"I said, I volunteer," the girl smiles wryly. "Lorelei Avalon."

I blink a few times, even looking around to young Finnick and Mags for some recognition, though neither are really paying much attention.

"As I was saying, our male tribute this year is... Hunter F-"

"I volunteer!" someone screams.

My eyes find the boy, young and tanned, screaming and hollering as loud as he can as he runs for the stage, as if it will disappear if he isn't careful.

"And you are sweetheart?"

"Waverly Pond," he speaks with an edge to his voice, looking back to Finnick and winking. "Best friend of the only Finnick Odair."

I light up at that. Friend of Finnick? That means he must be as talented. "How wonderful!"

Brie Valentina, District Five Escort.

The car arrives eventually, the driver looking thoroughly bored as he pulls into stop. I look back to the cameras, giving a curt nod as I usher my two tributes, Jack and Cameron, into the car that'll drive us to the train. Neither speak, neither look too happy, but I can't exactly force them to speak when they don't want too.

Once I've climbed into my seat, Jack and Cameron sit opposite me, both looking out their own, respective windows.

Jack Ampere, a boy who looks tender but fierce with his short curly hair and doe like emerald eyes, was probably one of the most guilty reapings I've ever experienced. He just stood there, mouth hanging, staring at me with utter shock and bewilderment. I could practically feel the guilt bubbling inside me. But he came forward, eventually. The girl, Cameron Flinch however, was almost the polar opposite of him.

She swore loudly, even stalking up the stage as if she was going to hit someone.

"When we arrive at the train, you can speak to Cordelia and Cable, your mentors." I offer a smile.

Jack blinks a few times, as if I'm speaking another language, before gazing back to the window. Cameron, once again living up to being Jack's complete opposite, glares a little with hatred in her eyes. I understand she hates it, she hates everything about it, but I'm simply the messenger, not the one who enforced her into the car.

"Both could be really helpful in understanding what to do."

Cameron looks at me again, hatred a little under control, but still evident. "I need to pee. Are we there yet or is this guy going to drive any slower?"

"We're almost there."

"Good, cause I'm hungry too," Cameron looks back to the window. "Might even do both at the same time. Depends how I feel, be a bit rebellious."

The car soon after rolls to a stop. I flatten my hair, seeing the flashes of cameras covering the windows and causing Jack to squint back in surprise.

"About time." Cameron rolls her eyes, opening the door before I even have the chance to get out myself.

At least Cameron's handling it well. Jack, on the other hand, seems like he is in another world. And I don't even blame him, either.

Fabriola O'Brian, District Six Escort.

"This should be interesting," Polo scoffs, looking to Track. "More freak tributes. I swear, after all these years, I've yet to experience an actual normal child that isn't completely insane or off their rocker. No offence, Track."

"Now, now, I think we have some great tributes this year," I counter. "You shouldn't be putting them down so early!"

"We'll see, Fabriola. You've been around long enough to see them come and go, more messed up than the last."

I roll my eyes, moving over to the doors, letting both Gavan and Karli come back from inspecting their rooms.

"Everything in order?" I smile.

Karli nods, before moving to sit down silently. I guess it must have taken a lot out of her. Gavan shifts from foot to foot, looking at both Polo and Track with suspicion in his eyes, before taking a seat in a booth. He shifts his eyes a little, before sighing deeply and folding his hands on the table.

"So, introduce yourselves then." Polo speaks up.

Neither tribute steps forward, so, I kindly do it for them.

"This is Gavan Dior and Karli Hudson. Your wonderful tributes who are perfectly normal."

I drawl out the last words to enhance my point. Gavan with his short, bleach blonde hair and Karli with her dark hair that swishes. Despite the age gap, Karli doesn't look that much shorter, maybe even a little stockier compared to Gavan.

No wonder why tributes tend to not like Polo that much, often abrupt and rude to those before she's even met them. It could all be a strategy, but I've learned over the years that Polo is just plain bitter most of the times. Soon enough, an Avox appears with some food and some wine for us elders, and happily, I sip the glass poured for me as Gavan cuts, cuts, cuts his food with a spoon into tiny, even portions and separating them from touching each other.

"What are you staring at?"

I look up, seeing Gavan staring at Karli. She shrugs her shoulders, confused, but Gavan stares solidly.

"You're staring at me... Why are you staring at me?" Gavan repeats, a little on edge.

"I'm not," Karli says evenly. "Though, if you hate the attention, you're in the wrong place."

Karli lets out a struggled laugh, though no-one joins in. From across the table, I can see Polo's smirk as she realises that Gavan may truly not be completely sound of mind and possibly, maybe, could be a little different. Of course, as Gavan continues to stare suspiciously at Karli as he eats his food carefully, I realise that Polo, once again, is right.

Olivander Goode, District Seven Escort.

"I hope you like your rooms!" I beam, watching Timber edge closer to his room, until he slips him quietly.

Tauria Copin, a bright looking child, looks at me, flashes a smile, then walks to her room happily. I smile, knowing that both my tributes are just so happy with everything. I bet they can't wait to see the Capitol and the wonderful styles! Though, I must admit, we must see the stylist about Tauria's hair. Pixie cuts are wonderful, but completely not the right generation anymore. Times have changed and she just doesn't get that. But she's a lovely child, I'm sure we could do something for her. Timber Murdock, on the other hand, seems definitely odd.

"And how do you like it?" I clap my hands as Tauria returns.

"It's great," Tauria smiles. "I like your hair, Olivander. What colour is it?"

I feel the blush on my cheeks. "It's aubergine!"

"It suits you really well."

"Oh, I've already decided your my favourite tribute, ever!"

I can hear a snigger coming from the dining room, but ignore it. Blight always has something to say about my attitude towards our tributes. I think they enjoy my personality. After all, many are usually so down and upset about it all, I'm like the light at the end of their tunnel.

The sun on a cloudy day.

Timber leaves his room, dark grin plastered on his face. "And how about you?"

"I hate it," Timber gruffs. "But I'll be killing soon, so it's okay. That includes you, Tauria."

Tauria tilts her head almost playfully, before shrugging her tiny shoulders. "We'll see. Anything is possible."

He looks at me, staring me down. "Your hair is stupid, not lovely. She's clearly lying. You look like a walking eggplant or that someone has puked grape juice over your head in the night."

And with his icy words, he leaves for the dining room, where a roar of laughter rings out from the obnoxious Blight Barker. I gasp, mouth agape, as Tauria frowns and follows him in, leaving enough gap. I can't believe he even said that!

As I walk in, I notice Timber stalking over to Mona, whilst Tauria sits down next to Blight, crossing her hands on her lap. I survey the scenery in front of me. Tauria, lovely and charming with the arrogant Blight, whilst rude Timber with the calm and sophisticated Mona. Definitely not right.

But then again, once I've taught them right, they'll be perfect!

Fervis Hawkins, District Eight Escort.

"I think the most obvious thing to do is to let you both go with the right mentor gender-wise, if you understand." Cecelia smiles lightly at the tributes.

Mirana giggles, sweeping a lock of her bright red hair from her eyes. Mirana Capulet's reaping was definitely a little different compared to most I've done. When I read her name, she just started to move quietly and slowly to the stage. Then, as if on impulse, she starts running the other direction. Quite a sprint, as well, managing to disappear out of the block with a horde of Peacekeepers chasing after her madly.

Of course, I had to keep going, so I done the boys and got Stitch Hill, someone who definitely looks like he belongs in the upper class of Eight. I watched his mother cry, whilst Stitch held his own and kept strong.

Soon enough the Peacekeepers haul Mirana back, in a giggling fit and constantly holding a small coin shaped pocket watch close to her chest, no doubt to be her token. It was probably the most dramatic reaping Eight has ever had. Of course, it makes the popularity for Eight even better and it will definitely keep our tributes from being in the shadows... But it makes me wonder for poor Mirana's mental stability.

"I like that idea," Stitch cuts in. "I think it's quite the choice."

"You have such good manners," I beam. "Your mother taught you well."

Stitch smirks a little, but nods. "Thank you. I guess you could say I've had a good upbringing."

"It's settled then. Mirana with me and Stitch with Woof," Cecelia picks at her salad with her fork, before placing it down again and looking deeply at Mirana, whose eyes are focused on her spoon and possibly, her reflection. "Are you okay?"

Mirana shakes her head, like she's been snapped out of a dream, and nods sweetly. "I'm peachy, thanks!"

Switching back from Mirana and Stitch, I can't help but be proud of our selection this year. Such great tributes with loving personalities and attributes. My work almost seems effortless. Stitch scoots a little closer to Mirana, picking up his fork with a grin.

"Your hair is interesting," Stitch remarks, using his fork to point at her brightened locks. "I like it."

Mirana giggles once more, pulling forth her little pocket watch and giving it a kiss. She stops, holding it out to show Stitch. "Do you like this? I think it's so pretty. It reminds me of the stories my mom used to tell me."

As Mirana continues her story, I zone out, looking to Woof who seems to be muttering something to himself. I look at Cecelia, who smiles sadly and shakes her head, confirming my suspicious of his age catching up to him quickly. It could be dangerous for Stitch, but then again, Cecelia will back him up. Poor Woof. I come back into the conversation, just to hear Mirana mention something about fairy tales and to see Stitch roll his eyes as he looks away from her.

Everything could go wrong because of this. And to think, I thought we might have a Victor this year. Sadly, that doesn't look so possibly anymore.

Castor Kamaretti, District Nine Escort.

I need my promotion this year. I'm sick and tired of having to escort for lower districts. I done time with District Eleven, which was awful, because all you get is the harsh glares of the children and murderous stares from the Peacekeepers that seem to flock in that district. Then, a year in District Ten, which was better but constantly feels like you're out of place.

District Nine, on the other hand, is much better but still not perfect. One or Two would be ideal! They get the best publicity. Though, Nine has its perks. It's always sunny and hot, perfect for my suits without sweating too much like back in Eleven, but also they are more laid-back and serene. You never get ruly tributes because sometimes, I seem to think that they are dumbed down. But it makes my job easier - all that needs to happen now is that one of them actually wins.

But this year, it's completely different. It's almost as if I've got tributes who are determined to make my career die on the spot.

I look over as Fern Bracken makes her way in. Her dirty blonde hair and permanent scowl doesn't help her with looks, but I'm sure the Capitol can do something. She takes her seat, glaring at me from the corner of her eye.

"Is something wrong, Fern?"

Her head snaps in my direction. "You chose my name. Out of all the girls in the whole of freakin' Nine, and you choose me. You ass."

"Well I'm sorry," I wave the comment away. "But whining about it won't get you anywhere."

"You'll regret it. I never forget my grudges."

"You do that, my dear," I roll my eyes as Koel Spelt walks in, eyes shifting awkwardly at Fern.

Auckland and Victory pick on the tension almost immediately, and whilst I won't bother getting involved, it wouldn't hurt to listen. I get up, heading to the beverages tray to collect some hot chocolate, waiting for them to question the thick atmosphere.

"What's going on then? Why is there all this tension?" Auckland asks.

Bingo.

"He thought it was funny to sneak into my room whilst I was having a shower and screw all my clothes up. Don't worry, I won't forget. But my list is just getting longer and longer."

I almost immediately know it is about me. The rude child, threatening an elder and more importantly, her escort.

"I didn't do anything and you have no proof." Koel retorts accusingly.

"Sleep with one eye open, Koel," Fern mock-whispers. "One eye open."

Spinning around, I flash a smile at Victory, who only glares. I fight about the laugh as I walk out the room, hearing the anthem for Panem as the recaps begin to play on the screen. I hope Fern is terrified by the Careers. They'll hunt her down within seconds, and when she might possibly be dead, how will she keep her pretty, little list? Koel won't have a chance with his age. Looks like my promotion is gone for this year.

Harmonica Veal, District Ten Escort.

One is the first to appear on the screen. As per usual, Clementine does her best at being the center of attention compared to her actual tributes. That's the one thing I've never liked about my baby sister. She rose to the top so quickly, yet she only got there for constantly flipping her hair back and forth and smiling pretty at the camera. True, that's what us escorts do, but she always knew how to take it that little bit further.

The Careers are the most obvious threats this year. The boy from Three looks rather confident, but besides that, no other tributes stand out to me that much. Though, the Eight reaping was rather hilarious and the guy from Seven looked like a threat, also.

My eyes flick to both Chord and Samia, watching the screen intently.

Chord Wickers is a strong looking boy, standing tall with broad shoulders, though with a lean side to him. He's handsome, so sponsors shouldn't be a problem and he could get a decent score, so he could propel himself far in the competition. Samia Carson is twice as adorable as any child I've ever seen, so that alone should mean she's popular with the Capitol and those who take the time to pay out their money.

"You guys have some strong competition," Lucky Dagotto nods slowly, absorbing the information. "Strong indeed."

"I think we'll be okay, right, Sami?" Chord grins at the small girl.

She nods excitedly, obviously comforted by his attention towards her.

My heart pulls for them both. Sometimes, only cruel kids deserve this fate. Not the nice, genuine ones that wouldn't hurt a fly. It's probably the main thing I despise about the Hunger Games. Not the kids dying, but rather the choice method and allowing decent kids to die.

"I'll make sure to get you some great sponsors. With your looks, Chord, and Sami's cuteness, you should have them pouring in," I grin. "Then, if you have a talent, you should use it. Bring some attention to our district and yourselves."

"I sing, if that helps?" Chord shrugs.

"That's perfect. When you can, especially on camera, sing. It'll sure be a great way to keep attention on yourself."

"Harmonica, don't be their mentor," Buttercup Springton warns. "That's our job. Just do your sponsors and dining thing, leave the rough and tough to us."

I nod, holding my hands in defense as I watch our reapings arrive. And of course, I make sure not to strip the attention away from the tributes. That's why I always was the better sister of us both.

Ginger Deschanel, District Eleven Escort.

I pat down Zaira Havlin's hair, smoothing it. It's wonderful, truly beautiful hair that shines, something I've rarely seen in Eleven. I can feel the train rolling to a stop, halting forward with anger. So far, it hasn't been a good way. A wardrobe malfunction, the cameras not working properly at the reaping and then the train struggling to start for the journey. And now, finally, we've arrived.

"We've arrived," I smile at Zaira. "Have to make sure you look your best for the cameras!"

I run my fingers through her hair again, seeing the anger from Seeder's eyes. I would be envy too with hair like hers!

Seeder moves over, swatting my hands away.

"Ginger, stop it, she looks fine and you're just making her more nervous."

I shake my head. "I hardly doubt that. She is more than capable at handling the crowds!"

Alto Boulevard, a young boy with pale skin that makes him stand out compared to most Eleven inhabitants, takes this moment to enter the room, head to the side as he watches us curiously. Chaff smirks, leaning against the doorway as Seeder attempts to sort Zaira's hair on her own.

"So I'm not allowed to do it, but you are?"

"I'm her mentor," Seeder counters. "Of course I'm allowed."

I put my hands on my hips. "Technically, you are not her mentor. Chaff is. You want to be Alto's."

"Still a mentor compared to an escort."

"I know how to conduct yourself and impress the audience, I've been doing this for years, and what training do you have Seeder?"

She stops, taking an angry sigh. "No training, but I went into an arena and watched twenty-three children die. Then, I came out and repeated that year after year after year, only seeing one of my children win once in a while. Have you fought for your life, Ginger?"

"I have not, no, but that doesn't mean you instantly know more than me."

"You're right, but I'm a mentor, whereas your job is to make sure they conduct themselves properly, once we've actually arrived in the Capitol. For now, you don't do nothing."

I look at Zaira, whose considerably shrunk and looks uncomfortable, possibly on the verge of tears. When I look at Seeder, she flashes a "back off" look and so, I do. But nobody, nobody, knows how to be an escort than me.

Pashmina Warr, District Twelve Escort.

"We've arrived!"

I hate Twelve with all my being. It's disgusting, it's repulsive, these people are from the slums and reek of coal, dust and poverty. I know this is my first ever year, but surely, I should have been given another district that isn't so... Useless. Even Eleven or Ten would have been perfect. Anything but this constant dust and dirt.

I'm so glad to be back in the Capitol. Being an escort is tough work, but being a Twelve escort is probably the worst ever.

Haymitch Abernathy is one of the other many reasons why I hate my job. A drunk is one thing, but an arrogant man both drunk and sober, possibly even worse when the alcohol is brewing in his system.

I look over to the tributes, Ashton Myers and Anastasia Burne, both considerably young compared to the other districts. Everyone seemed to scratch up some older tributes that at least look threatening. Twelve? A fifteen year old and a thirteen year old.

"When the door opens, you're going to be swamped with cameras. Remember, not only are you representing your district and yourselves, but also me. Looking shabby will only come back against me harshly," I look to Ashton, a fine layer of sweat on his forehead. "So wipe that dirt off your face and look proper."

Haymitch sniggers, taking another deep swig of his whiskey, before smiling lazily. "You don't need to get your panties in a bunch, sweetheart."

"We need another Victor," I scowl. "A competent one, hopefully."

The windows are instantly swarmed by the flashes of cameras and people, all ducking in to see the tributes in question. I quickly apply another layer of red lipstick, pump my hair up a tad to ensure I look great at the very least, before ushering both kids towards the door. Ashton runs a hand through his strawberry blonde, curly locks, before grinning mischievously. Anastasia, on the other hand, seems to cower back as the doors open, revealing the crowd.

Taking the lead, I put my hands on their backs and push them through the crowd. Luckily, I'm wearing white travel gloves, so it should be okay.

Haymitch disappears, and I'm not even worried about him.

Soon enough, after a few curious photographers who push too far, we get inside the wonderful building.

"You two need to get to your stylists immediately," I wave down an Avox. "Make sure that Enzo hurries up. We need him here, pronto!"

I turn back to both the children, smiling as true as I can in this situation.

"You two will love it here. Happy Hunger Games."

I walk back, knowing they're in the capable hands of Enzo and that should be enough. I scoot past the foyer, noticing Haymitch collapsed into a chair, no doubt semi-unconscious.

Being an escort for Twelve is so hard. Good luck to the future escorts getting this one, it's a real hoot.

Young Blood by Birdy.

The blog for this story is - glasshousehungergames . blogspot. com - just take out the spaces.

I need to keep track of the votes, who votes and who didn't. To do that, it needs to be in one place.

I still choose the victor myself. Points don't decide it, but simply help in knowing what the tributes final place should be in the Games and how things play out for them in the terms of relationship, death, friendship and camera time!

If you don't want to vote or leave some criticism or thoughts, that's fine, just don't be upset when I kill your tribute early.

Sorry for the sucky escort names, it was really hard! So yes. I'm now working on alliances, who to put with who. Might be a little bit until the next update, so around a week, I should say.