Chapter 15: "All Flash, No Substance"

July 6: Interview Day

Capitol Arena, Backstage

…...

As always, the group of tributes was lined up in order of appearance for their interviews that day, and everyone was dressed to the nines. Betsy still couldn't figure out why One's boy insisted on wearing so much purple. He didn't look good in it, and it clashed terribly with his district partner. Not to mention he'd only quit flirting with her when Brian made a habit of glaring at him over her shoulder.

But she didn't have to tolerate him for long, because when the roar of the crowd fell for Tivan's rambling, ridiculous introduction, Kilgrave turned his attention to his incendiary district partner — who once again looked as though she could burst into flames at any moment.

Jean strutted out as best she was able for such a skinny, lanky girl — but she knew how to hold herself, and she knew how to engage Tivan, which was kind of impressive in and of itself.

"Miss Grey!" Tivan exclaimed as he took her hand and led her to her mark for the interview. "You certainly know how to make an entrance. Tell me, what was the inspiration for your parade outfit — which, clearly is being echoed today? Such a bold color choice for a natural redhead."

Jean smirked at him with a look that seemed to burn as bright as the ember-like dress. "Well, when I talked with my stylist, we discussed the precious stones in One and the beauty there, but we wanted something a little more … dangerous." Her eyes glinted. "Dangerous and beautiful — doesn't that sum up a good fire?"

"It does indeed, and your score showed that you are dangerous indeed — but the bird … the beautiful fiery wings … it's reminiscent of something ancient and wondrous," he said as he leaned forward before turning to the crowd. "A mythical creature that would rise up from the ashes." He grinned wider. "And I hope you find it as fitting as I do — if One can indeed rise up from the ashes to claim a win ... like a Phoenix from the ash."

The crowd roared its approval, and Jean seemed to soak in the attention, clearly pleased with the name. "Well, I'm certainly hoping to do better than my predecessor," she allowed, still smiling to herself. "Ashes and dust would be an apt description there."

"Then Miss Grey, please — give us a twirl and a look at one of the most dangerous-looking young ladies to come out of One in recent memory."

Jean was only too happy to show off, raising her arms as she twirled, slowly, the dress seeming to turn an even brighter red under the lights, before she sat back in her seat, smiling sweetly at Tivan.

"The speculation is that the Careers are a bit weaker this year than in years past," Tivan said as he leaned toward her. "What would you like to say to those that doubt your alliance?"

Jean laughed. "You're putting too much faith in the scores. Those scores really don't take into account your mind, and that, Mr. Tivan, is the most powerful weapon anyone has, don't you agree?"

"Oh, that does seem to be true," he said, smiling widely.

"I'm sure you've found that's true in your work. After all, it's your mind behind half the Games that we see. You can't put that much faith in only brawn. Even last year's victor had the smarts to make his own weapon." She folded her hands in front of her neatly. "But I guess if you just go by the scores, yes, it's lower than usual. I can't exactly say what the others did, though. I wasn't there for their assessments, and I'm not a mind-reader, sad to say."

"I'm sure if you were, the field would be cleared in a matter of hours," Tivan said. "But I am curious. What was it you did in your assessments? It had to be impressive to set the bar so high for those that were meant to follow you."

But Jean just laughed and shook her head. "That would be telling, wouldn't it? And we have to save some surprises for the Games, or you'll get bored of me!"

"And you are full of surprises, aren't you, my dear girl?" He got to his feet and pulled her with him to present her to the crowd one final time. She sashayed off the stage and all but swept into her seat backstage, sitting prim and proper and looking pleased with herself as her district partner went out after her.

Kilgrave would have a hard time following a performance like that, and it was clear he knew it, though that didn't do anything to sway the self-satisfied look on his face as he strolled out onto the stage to the cheers of the crowd.

But this time, it wasn't Tivan who would be interviewing him. This year, there was a tandem interview effort, a clear changing of the guard that Tivan wasn't happy about in the least. Patricia Walker, who had done the interviews for the families of the final eight, would be interviewing all the boys, and unlike her counterpart in heavy makeup and false smiles, she was all warm pinks and laughter — which probably wasn't a good type to send after Kilgrave if they wanted to force him into answering any hard questions.

And it seemed that Kilgrave, too, thought he was going to get an easy, softball-style time with the young woman.

He approached her with a broad grin and immediately took control of the interview — or tried to — by greeting her with an exaggerated "It's Patsy!" with both hands open to her and a broad smile — but all that really seemed to do was put Miss Walker on edge and put him right in the center of her crosshairs, especially considering she preferred "Trish."

She gave him a tight smile before he took her hand in greeting, quickly moving from entertained 'fan' to warm tribute hoping to make a friend.

"Zebediah Kilgrave," she said with a cold glint in her eyes. "The Capitol welcomes you to this year's Avenger Games. As I understand it, you had a good showing for your assessments, which I find incredibly hard to believe. Would you care to tell the crowd how you managed that — a skinny, obviously less-endowed tribute from One?"

Kilgrave looked shocked at the tone of the question for just a moment before he settled into a wide smile and shook his head at her in pretended disbelief. "Please, Patsy — looks aren't everything. I know I'm not as big and strong and handsome as some other tributes, but shouldn't I get a fair shake anyway? I mean, I'm a fair step above last year's masked menace — at least give me that!"

"I'm just saying, it's hard to understand such a high score when you don't look like you could hurt anyone. I mean, compared to Four…!" She let the statement hang in the air as Kilgrave looked almost annoyed by the comparison.

"Not everyone can throw a freight train over their shoulder, Patsy."

"No, they can't," she agreed. "But if and when it comes down to the final two ... and one of you is an actual fighter ... and the other just talks … I think we know which way it'll go." She gave him a sympathetic look as she waited for his response.

"Patsy…" He shook his head at her. "My dear Patsy, you of all people know the power of words."

"Well, I hope that whoever you end up meeting out there is someone you can apply those words to. As I understand it, the word behind the scenes is that you can't talk everyone into playing nice. Your very own district partner is a tough sell … how do you expect to handle that?"

"How do I expect to handle the little ball of flames, you mean? Let her burn herself out - that's what you do with fire."

"Strong words. Good luck, Mr. Kilgrave."

Kilgrave stood to leave, looking thunderous, though when he hit the backstage area, there was no mistaking the fact that most of the girls were smirking to themselves at Patricia's takedown. It was nice to see someone wasn't playing Kilgrave's game the way he seemed to think it should go.

Betsy was still smirking, in fact, when she was ushered forward to do her interview, her long, black cocktail dress flowing behind her as she made her way across the stage to where, unfortunately, Tivan was waiting with a greasy smile.

"Ah, Miss Braddock!" Tivan's smile widened as he gestured for her to sit down. "It's lovely to meet you in person. I hope you'll forgive the indulgence, but we here in the Capitol have seen your face often enough, we almost feel we know you. But here you are — and we have the chance to know the real Elizabeth Braddock!" He seemed totally thrilled with the idea.

"And I hope you'll forgive me, but the circumstances are certainly less than ideal," she replied with a light Capitolite accent. "Please, call me Betsy. All my friends do."

"Betsy, then," Tivan agreed, his smile somehow widening as he nodded. "Well, then, Betsy, I have to agree that the circumstances could be better, but you must know you're already a favorite, not only because we all know you but… well! Your score, Miss Braddock. I know I'm speaking for everyone when I say you surprised us all!"

"I surprised myself, truth be told," she replied with a little smirk as she leaned toward him a bit, then tossed her head so the little tendril of hair near her eyes would momentarily go elsewhere. "I hope I can keep surprising everyone."

"I'm sure you will," Tivan said with a friendly little smile before he leaned forward, his hands in front of him. "And perhaps both Braddocks will be a surprise this year. I take it you weren't expecting your brother to volunteer? The surprise was plain to see on Reaping Day."

"Oh, of course I wasn't," she said honestly. "I wasn't even expecting to have made the list. So how could I have known he'd do what he did? He's incredibly brave and selfless."

"That he is," Tivan agreed, though there was a different kind of glint to his eyes as he watched her carefully. "And do you expect that trend to continue? That is — only one of you can survive, Betsy."

"It's a family trait," Betsy replied, her trademarked smile firmly in place. "We'll both do whatever we can to help each other — and let the cards fall where they may."

"Well, we here in the Capitol are certainly pulling for you, Betsy," he said before he straightened up a bit and smiled as he presented her to the crowd once more. The deafening roar was certainly more energetic for her than it had been for the tributes before her. The Capitol definitely had a favorite in the Careers.

Betsy took a couple steps forward, toward the crowd and away from Tivan — strictly out of habit — before she stopped and even struck a pose, spinning neatly, with the dress following her lead rather than fighting her as the outfits were doing for many of the other girls backstage. It was clear that she knew exactly how to handle herself — and her clothes — which really just played better for the Capitolites. After all, a model was as close to one of them as they could hope for.

When she got backstage, she shot Brian a nervous but encouraging look moments before it was his turn to leave, though the two Ones waiting for her didn't look particularly thrilled with her showing. "Oh, please," Betsy said as she carefully sat down. "You could have done better. I've just interviewed before."

"It certainly helps when the interviewer is playing soft ball — and favorites," Kilgrave sniffed.

"You have watched these Games before, haven't you?" Betsy shot back. "There are always favorites. And rarely does it mean anything at all."

"True. The favorite of the Capitol has never once won the Games — outside the so-called Fantastic Four, of course. What does that say for their tastes?" Amora asked with one eyebrow raised, though she didn't seem to expect an answer to her question.

"That they clearly value beauty. Good luck with your turn," Betsy replied dryly.

Amora gave her a withering look for that one as the cheering out in the audience came to an end and Patricia and Brian began their back-and-forth.

"I really have to ask, maybe because I'm new, but really... Brian. What were you thinking?" Patricia asked, her eyes dramatically wide and yet still somehow completely sincere in her curiosity.

Brian gave Patricia the slightest of shrugs and an almost self-deprecating grin. "I wasn't actually thinking, to be honest," he told her, the sheepish grin just accentuating the fact that he was telling the truth. "It's just ... that's my sister."

"Well, I don't know how you'll fare in the Games, but you've got to be one of the best brothers in the country, pulling a stunt like that," she said, with genuine warmth in her tone. "Were there any surprises that you'd like to share … perhaps you picked up a talent over the past few days that we might like to hear about? Something that doesn't involve acting like a human shield?"

Brian nodded at that. "Well, I don't want to give anything away, but I did pay attention to all that training you guys gave us in the past three days. At least enough to get a pretty good score, right?" He shrugged up one shoulder. "Plus, you know, I don't think anyone will get close to Betsy without finding out, so I don't think you'll have to wait long."

She gave him a little smile and nodded her head. "And that was the whole point, wasn't it?" She didn't wait for his answer before moving into her wrap up. "Good luck, Mr. Braddock. Even playing bodyguard got you the same score as our last victor, and that has to count for something."

She presented him in a much more understated way than Tivan was using — obviously keeping the focus on the tributes and not trying to pull anything in to herself as Brian made his way to sit down next to Betsy.

"You did well," Betsy told him as he pulled his tie out of the way and rearranged his jacket. "Better than most first time around."

"Just leaned on you," he told her honestly, letting out a little breath of relief now that it was over. "How do you do it all the time?"

"You get used to it," Betsy replied with a little shrug.

"You're gonna be one heckuva victor, then," he told her.

"If I am, then I hope Trish is my interviewer," she said softly. "Tivan lives up to his reputation."

Brian frowned at that and then shook his head. "Too bad we can't both win so I can sock him for you for all your future interviews."

"I'm sure I can sock him myself," Betsy said. "If you'd let me."

"What, and mess up your manicure?" he had to tease.

"Totally worth it. And they're fake. They might just hold up."

He snorted at that, though the production assistants in the wings waved frantically at the two of them for silence as Tivan was introducing Nefaria to the crowd as another "golden child" of Three from the tech empires — and the crowd had quieted enough that they were worried about the backstage conversations being heard again.

"How did such a young woman as yourself find yourself in this place," Tivan asked almost breathlessly. "Two heirs to technical kingdoms in two years' time." He tutted and shook his head slowly. "Things must be doing well in Three for so few workers' families to be on the line."

"I really wouldn't know," Giuletta replied, waving her hand.

"Or perhaps it's that the tech magnates aren't doing so well. First Stark, and then the unfortunate disappearance of Hammer ... it seems there is a bit of a shift in Three."

"Oh please." Nefaria shook her head and wrinkled her nose. "Stark brought last year upon himself — didn't you pay any attention during the Games? And Hammer has never been a big player; he just thought he was."

For a moment, Tivan looked tickled at her commentary. "I'm sure that's just brand loyalty talking. I hope there isn't any real bad blood between the big family names in Three. Stark seems to be bouncing back anyhow. New contracts ... all of them on time..."

"Well, yes," Nefaria admitted. "It had to have been a hard year for Howard Stark, but he does seem to have rallied. Actually, I wouldn't be surprised if there will be more collaboration this year — though I suppose things will be different when I return a victor. I'm not sure how that will affect business in Three."

"We'll just have to wait and see then, won't we?" Tivan said with a broad grin.

"Hopefully, it won't take me too long, and then I'll be right back here, and we can discuss it more in detail," Nefaria said, matching his smile.

"I'm sure you won't be in the arena long," Tivan said with a consoling tone. "And we'll all be watching carefully for our next victor, won't we?" he said, this time directed to the crowd before he moved to present her to them … and to a far less enthusiastic applause than what Betsy had garnered.

Next up, of course, was Trevor, who the Braddocks both watched a bit warily, since they knew better than to believe his act now. He made his way onto the stage with a confident, cheerful swagger, and when he got up to Patricia, he was quick to snatch up her hand and lay a solid kiss on the back of it.

She looked a bit surprised by his antics — especially when he didn't let go of her hand right off, though what he said to her was lost over the crowd's response. She finally managed to get her hand back, though her expression was trapped somewhere between amused and confused.

"How are you enjoying your time here in the Capitol?" Patricia asked when she finally got the crowd back in hand and Trevor had drawn out all the applause he could manage.

"It's just one big party, innit?" he asked in a delighted drawl. "You folks really know how to throw a fiesta!"

She smiled his way and had to nod. "This time of year, yes, it really is," she agreed. "But I hope that you're getting some good information before you head out into the arena. Something that will help you survive. I'm reasonably sure there won't be any parties out there this year."

"And ain't that just a shame, love?" he asked, shaking his head with his hand over his heart like he just couldn't believe it. "Shoulda been in last year's group, if you ask me. Much more agreeable group of kids. Parties and campfires and all that. You see last year's Three even found him some liquor? What a year!"

"They did seem to make the best of it," Patricia agreed, totally amused with the young man. "Do you think you'll find any liquid courage out there, Trevor?"

"Ooh, I hope so," Trevor said with wide eyes. "Gotta be easier to deal with all… that… when you're not thirsty, eh?"

She shook her head, the smile impossible to stow while he was being so genuinely entertaining. "Then I hope you find a way to keep your positive attitude while you're out there. Good luck."

"Don'tcha worry, love," he said earnestly. "But thanks for the luck - I'll take all I can get!" With that, Trevor turned back to the crowd for some enthusiastic waving that had more than a few people chuckling over the entertaining tribute from Three.

There was little wait before Amora found herself strutting out to talk to Tivan, though the crowd's cheers were less than even Trevor had gotten, and it had her a bit surly to start. She simply wasn't used to people not tripping over themselves on her behalf.

"Welcome, welcome," Tivan called out to her. "Such a lovely girl to have scored so high … so many eights with the young ladies of the Careers this year." He drew in a deep breath, though the smile was still broad. "I do hope that's not strictly on reputation."

"Perhaps some kind of reputation, but I assure you, that one is all mine," she replied haughtily, tossing her blonde hair over her shoulder as she drew herself up taller in her seat. "Unlike last year, I have no family name to trade on, after all."

"Yet, I'm told there is still a tie?" Tivan said. "Is it true that you were involved with one of Odin's sons?"

For a moment, the smile slipped before Amora simply nodded. "To know Thor was to love him," she said softly.

"We all certainly would have agreed with you on that last year," Tivan said with a softened smile. "Only to be so sorely disappointed. Taken down by the smallest tribute in the Games."

Amora laid a hand over her heart at the memory and closed her eyes for a moment, though when she opened them again, it was with a spark of anger. "I suppose it's easy to underestimate a girl in the arena, but an angry one, a vengeful one… Mr. Tivan, surely you know the danger there."

"Oh yes," he agreed. "But last year, we also saw what happens when that same vengeful anger spirals out of control … I hope you're not that girl this year, my dear Amora."

"No, certainly not," she assured him with a small smirk. "I've had a year to temper my wrath. Though may the gods help any who tempt it this year."

"I doubt somehow that any of the gods are paying attention to the efforts of our tributes," Tivan said with a bit of a chuckle before he turned to the crowd to present her to them, slightly red-faced and insulted and not at all up to her usual standard of poise.

The production crew was finally hitting a stride now, and Amora had barely cleared the stage before Skurge was taking his seat with Patricia. The big guy looked insulted on Amora's behalf after the way the last interview had gone, so there was no mistaking the fact that Tivan had done Patricia absolutely no favors.

Add to that the fact that Skurge seemed reluctant to even speak to her beyond monosyllables, and it was clear Patricia was just… struggling.

It wasn't until she asked about Amora, though, that she got any traction at all, when he responded to her question about why he had volunteered with more than one word: "She should win."

"So …. Does that mean you have no plans to even try on your own behalf? What happens if she dies before you?"

Skurge looked troubled by the very idea, and his brows knitted together before he simply shook his head. "Not possible," he said. "I die in her defense — nothing else."

"I think you might be missing a few of the finer points to these Games, Skurge," Patricia said with a frown. "It can happen in ways outside of how you plan. It does all the time."

But Skurge very stubbornly shook his head. "She will win. And I will see it done."

Betsy was shaking her head at the display that Skurge was putting on with Patricia. "And they were trying to say you were the one that was stupidly following me?" she said quietly to Brian. "If that isn't idiocy at it's finest, purest form …"

"I feel like I should be insulted that you sound so surprised there's a bigger idiot than me out there," he whispered back with a little grin.

She looked at him blankly for a moment before covering her mouth with one hand, trying hard to hide the laughter as she lightly punched him in the arm. "You're terrible. And I love you for it."

He just had to grin her way that much wider as Patricia finally seemed to give up on Skurge and presented him to the crowd — who gave him a very muted response, considering his tight-lipped interview and just general … Skurge-ness.