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XXXII. Dee

"Are you sure you have to leave now, Finny?"

Her fingertips slowly inch dangerously close towards my lower region, sending shivers down my spine. My grip on Aurelia's waist tightens for a brief moment before I nod, almost reluctantly. Maybe I could gain a bit more sponsor money from her? I think. She's one of the wealthiest women in the Capital. If anyone can gain sponsor money from her, it'd most likely be me.

I lean in to kiss the base of her neck gently, squeezing her petite waist. Her auburn hair tickles my collarbone and shoulder as she leans into my touch, and I pull back. "You know I have tributes to look out for, Aurelia."

Her bottom lips juts out in a slight pout but she nods in understanding. "Of course… District Two seems to have very promising tributes this year."

"They do," I agree. "But I have your word that you'll sponsor both Marlene and Thomas, correct?"

A satisfactory smile forms on her face and she promises, "You can count on it - five thousand each, for now."

I plant one more kiss on her cheek before hastily pulling on my clothes. "Thank you. I'll see you later, Miss Winters," I farewell with a wink and rush out of her house.

Aurelia Winters may be the customer I visit the most, but she's probably the most considerate of all. But then, I suppose the fact that she looks like a normal woman makes me a little biased. Like Doctor Audrye, she looks district-worthy with her auburn hair and brown eyes, and not to mention, normal skin colour. Sex itself isn't everything for her. Out of the twelve times we've met up, she mostly offers up her lunch or dinner breaks so we can catch up on small talk. Many times, she's complained about her parents who are always demanding the best of her. Our sex is often just something we use to release our pent up emotions - most of which are usually frustration and anger. I think we're close enough to be classified as 'friends with benefits', and my relationship with Cashmere has grown to be exactly the same, though Gloss has no clue about it at all.

But at this point, after all these visits to the Capital, I don't even care about my image in front of Panem anymore, as long as President Snow is pleased with my actions.

As I enter the Training Centre, I find more than just a few mentors studying their own tributes from above, with frowns etched on their faces. We stand on the opposite side of the Gamemakers and we're concealed with an invention that's been named a forcefield - something I still have yet to understand, not that I bother to.

I drag a chair to the edge and sit down, watching as Marlene interacts with the other Careers, or more importantly, Corbin from Seven. Her actions may seem all clunky and awkward around him, but it's more than obvious that she's less so around him. I almost want to shoot myself in the head because of how stupid she is.

The tributes all line up in single file, waiting for their turn on the obstacle course, and the Careers waste no time to jump to the front of the line - well, excluding Thomas, that is. He's decided to ally with the pairs from Six and Eight, a choice I find myself liking. All the Careers but the girl from Two, Dee manage to pass the obstacle course on the first time. She's too tall to duck quick enough. However, during her second attempt, she doesn't avoid anything. She bashes everything away with the mere flick of her hand.

"This isn't good," Cecelia says next to me, shaking her head and bites on her nails.

"Not good at all," Beetee agrees, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"I don't like her." Gloss scowls at the girl as she pushes past both of District One's tributes like they weigh nothing more than a feather.

The rest of the mentors chip in their agreements, grumbling under their breath. We lounge across the seats, occasionally exchanging jokes and insults. Others would often find it absurd for us mentors to be so rude and offensive when we're grouped together, but usually, it's just the banter that puts the fun in things. And suddenly, everyone's up on their feet watching the tributes with a newfound fascination.

"Fuck." Out of all the people she could've picked a fight with, Marlene just had to pick Dee. "Can we go in there?"

"Nope."

"Such an idiot," I groan, watching the two girls below engage into a full blown fist fight. It's almost a ridiculous sight, since Dee dwarves Marlene by a good six inches and has biceps twice the latter's size. Marlene's quick on her feet and strong, but Dee's stronger. Just how reckless can she get?

Gloss clears his throat and glances over in my direction. "So, is the alliance on with Two?"

"I'd better hope not," I grumble, already on my way out of the room. Ignoring the elevator, I take the stairs down a storey, two steps at a time, desperate to stop Marlene from doing anything worse. By the time I arrive, several of the trainers have formed a barrier in front of the rest of the tributes who crowd around and two of them try pulling the girls apart.

"Mr Odair, you're not permitted in here!" one of them exclaims. When I scowl in return and say, "Does it look like I care?", he turns back to the situation at hand and reaches for Dee's shirt, only to be swatted back a few feet. Vaguely aware of the mentors above, hidden in sight, I wrap my arms around Marlene's torso, pulling her towards me. "That's enough, Summers."

"Get off me, you little sh-"

I drag Marlene along with me back into the elevator, despite the protests of the head trainer and click the button '4'. She almost escapes from my grip for a second, reaching for the button, which opens the doors. "What's your problem?" I ask her.

"She called me a streetwalker because I was talking to Orion and Corbin."

Inhaling a sharp breath, I run the palm of my hand over my face and sigh. "Ignore her."

"If someone called you a streetwalker, would you ignore them?"

Okay, so maybe she had a point. "Yes," I admit. "But your alliances in the arena are important. Have you figured any allies?"

"One, Two, me and Corbin."

The elevator doors open and I allow her to enter our storey first. "I want you to stay away from her, by at least three feet."

"Yeah, got it, Finnick," she says. "Look, I need to get back to the Training Centre, okay?"

"No. You're staying here," I say, firmly. "I'll send you back later when both of you are calm."

I scoop up my usual bowl of sugar cubes and offer her one. She shakes her head, and we make ourselves comfortable on the couch. "Who's the leader of the pack?"

"Who do you think?" she replies with a vicious scowl.

"Marlene, just try to get along with her. At least, don't interact with her much if you guys are allied in the same group."

"The Career pack isn't going to last long this year, is it?" she asks, biting her bottom lip nervously.

"Do you want me to lie?"

"No."

"Then, no," I say. "Anyone can tell that the alliance isn't going to last so I suggest that you make sure to hold onto at least two of the members, to pull away from the group into a smaller pack."

"Daniala and Corbin," she replies automatically.

"Daniala?"

"From One."

"Right."

"She's got a great aim with knives and bows and arrows. Corbin's good with axes. I feel like I'm useless with them, though."

And there's the first sign of weakness. It's probably the only weak comment I'll ever hear from Marlene, and I almost find myself laughing at her confession. "I mean, I can use all weapons," she continues. "Knives, swords, spears, axes, you name it. But, I'm not great at just one thing. I'm just overall. I have no chance of coming back at all. It was a stupid choice for me to even think about volunteering at all." Her voice trails off into a murmur and she leans back against the couch, closing her eyes.

I flick her in the middle of her forehead with my index finger. Her eyes snap open and she glares at me. "Hey!"

"Don't you dare talk like that," I reprimand her, as if I'm the older one. "Yes, your decision was a stupid one, but I actually do understand your reasoning and urge to volunteer, believe it or not. For Maxwell, right?" Her lips curve up into an unhappy grimace at the mention of her deceased brother. "Well, do it for him. You said it yourself, you wanted vengeance. So, use that to survive."

She opens her mouth, but I interrupt before she has the chance to speak. "And don't tell me there's nothing going on between you and that guy from Seven, because God forbid, even Haymitch Abernathy, the densest man in the world, could see you give each other googly eyes."

"I do not give him googly eyes!" she protests.

"You'd better not get too close to him, Marlene. You'll only hurt yourself that way… He'll get hurt, too but most importantly, you'll feel guilty in the arena if you grow too close to someone."

"You mean, like how you did with Maya?"

"We were already close," I glare at her. "And yes, just like how I did with Maya."

She puffs her cheeks up, realising the mistake of bringing up the usually forbidden topic of the deceased girl. Marlene avoids my gaze for a few moments before complaining, "But I can't stand Dee! She's such a bitch!"

"You're being a bitch right now."

"Your face is a bitch."

"Your arse is a bitch."

Marlene huffs in irritation. "You're impossible, you know that?"

Naturally, a smirk find its way up to my lips and I say, "I got you five thousand dollars worth of sponsors." For a moment, she contemplates on what to say before she gives me an unexpected, "I love you so much right now, Odair," and bounds out the room, going back down to the Training Centre.

I don't know how or why, but I find my legs transporting myself to the bar next to the dining room. In a typical bar, Haymitch and Chaff would sit in two of the stools by the table in the corner, and they would laugh hysterically over a joke that I presume wasn't even funny at all. I pour myself a couple of glasses of classic martini, and pull a stool up right next to the girl, taking a long swig out of the glass.

The bitterness of the alcohol hits my taste buds rather unpleasantly and burns my throat. It feels as if it's on fire as I chug it down, and slam the first empty glass back on the table. It's addictive. No wonder Haymitch turned to alcohol.

I can almost hear Haymitch say, "Joining in on the booze, eh, Odair?" with a taunting grin.

The door opens and in walks Cashmere. She fetches her own bottle of wine from the cupboard and pours the red liquid into a glass. "What's up?"

"Being a mentor is so stressful," I reply.

"You're telling me. This is only your second time. All my tributes did last night were complain about the girl from Two. 'Oh my god, we're like, so going to lose this year,'" she attempts to make an impression of her female tribute, Daniala, and then speaks in a lower octave, "'Oh, shut up, Daniala. Let's just team up with Four and Seven, then take Two out. Easy.'"

Cashmere drinks her whole glass and angrily screws open the bottle again, pouring more of its contents out. "No. Fucking no. Not easy. You work with Two, or your head's chopped off in the bloodbath. Bloody idiots, never listening to a word I say - always thinking they're right and I'm the one that's wrong. No, no, no; I was the one who came out of that fucking arena alive. If either of them come out of the arena, I'm going to wring their neck myself."

I drown out her rambling. Her rants have been something I've grown used to over the past few years, and while she goes a bit overboard, it's fairly amusing. I'm not entirely sure if it's because of the three glasses of alcohol I've downed in the past ten minutes, or if it actually is because her rants actually are entertaining.

I'm brought into a state of numbness, as the drinks take over and control my actions. I manage to force another few drinks down, easing my frustration and pent-up anger towards Marlene from previous days, and enjoy the numbness for the time being. And it seems Cashmere, in the same haze as me, seems to have the same idea.

From previous experiences, I've found that our hormones go whack when we drink. One moment, we're having a somewhat ordinary, drunken conversation, and the next, we're pressed up against the wall, tearing each other's clothes off like there's no tomorrow. But in the end, everything just turns out to be a blur.