73 I.
Johanna pushes open the heavy, scarred, oak door and walks into the dimly lit bar in the center of District 7. All eyes flick to her as she makes her way over to the bar, but most of the people sitting at the small tables turn back to their drinks when they see who it is.
"Mack," she nods at the man slowly drying glasses behind the counter.
"Johanna." He places a clean glass in front of her and fills it with two fingers of clear brown liquor. She glances up at him questioningly, but he shakes his head "no" as he turns to put the bottle back on the shelf behind him.
She sighs a little in frustration as she takes a sip of her drink. She doesn't know how she is supposed to get a read on the sentiments in the district if people keep refusing to talk to her. This is the third time the head foreman from logging team Northwest 1 has blown her off.
She glances quickly around the room, noting the table off to the left with three guys she has never seen in the place before. They don't look old enough to be in a place like this.
Most of the people she has managed to talk to in the district have been unhappy sure, but scared, and the possibility of getting a District 7 rebel force, however loosely organized, together has been looking unlikely.
Plus, she is getting the feeling that controls on axes and machinery have been getting even tighter recently. Someone may suspect something.
She sighs again, finishing the rest of her drink. Whatever it is the "rebels" are trying to do, she feels like she is failing at it.
"You got any of that soup today Mack?" she asks as he gives her another pour. He nods and goes into the back, his shuffling limp explaining why he isn't in the forests. Spring is starting to warm up the evenings outside, but the hot soup is still satisfying, and she won't have to scrounge something up in her empty house later.
She feels eyes on her and glances back at the table of young 'uns to see three heads turn quickly back to each other. She smiles into her soup when she turns back around.
She finishes her food and drink in silence while people trail in and out of the bar, paying no attention to her. They are used to her prickly presence here.
She stands up to go, throwing a heavy handful of coins down on the bar as she goes.
"Johanna..." Mack begins warningly.
"Relax Mack," she says lightly, "that round for the house was on me."
She understands, but still, the pride of some people. Mack shakes his head, but he still scoops up the coins, putting them into the till. A couple of the patrons within ear shot lift their drinks in wordless thanks.
She goes to head out the door but stops herself, turns, and walks back to the table on the left. She plants herself in front of it, looking at the three guys in front of her. They don't seem to know where to look.
"You," she says to the one in the middle. His eyes snap up, and he mouths "me?" back to her. His hair is slightly redder than hers and lighter, almost bronze, unusual for the district. He is not quite handsome, but there are playful lines around his eyes and there is something nice about the crooked line of his mouth.
"Yeah you," she says, "come with me."
"Come with..." He looks around. "Um... where?"
"Home," she says with an edge of exasperation. "Unless you don't want to."
He looks at his friends, who are trying to hide their grins in their drinks, and then starts hurriedly gathering his things.
"No, I, uh, just. Uh, let me just pay for-"
"Already taken care of," she says breezily and leads him out the door, his friends toasting his receding back behind him.
Mack, back to drying glasses, rolls his eyes as she passes, but she ignores him.
They are barely through her door before she pulls him toward her, kissing him fiercely. He seems a little surprised, but she doesn't think there was any confusion about what they are doing and doesn't feel the need to waste any time.
"Okay..." he says panting a little when she lets him up for air.
She just grins wolfishly at him, backing up towards the stairs to her bedroom, and pulls her shirt over her head.
He had been looking around a little, taking in her house, but now his eyes are trained only on her. He is a little taller than she had expected, with the broad shoulders and strong arms of someone who lifts trees for a living. She pulls him towards her, but now he surprises her, grabbing her firmly and picking her up, rubbing her up the length of his thigh until she is hitched around his waist.
She groans in his ear as he carries her up the stairs and drops her on her back on her bed. She loses herself in this, not thinking about anything else, letting the physical consume her. She thrums under his touch until she can't take any more, and she breaks open with a shuddering moan. He collapses on top of her, pinning her down with his weight in a way that feels solid, real.
She pushes him away, catching her breath.
"That was-" she pauses, still breathing a little hard. "You know what you are doing."
He laughs, picking himself up to look at her. "Thanks? I should probably find your surprise offensive."
"Oh, right. Well, it's a compliment."
"...Ethan," he finishes for her.
"What? Oh. Yeah. Didn't ask." She says, rooting around on the floor for her shirt.
"I know, I am telling you anyway," he says with a smile.
She looks up to see him carefully fingering the blanket that is on the end of her bed.
"Cashmere," she says, nodding at it. "Take it. You can have it."
He looks up at her and starts to laugh, his eyes crinkling. He has a nice laugh.
"Can you imagine? This thing in my house in the Flatlands. It's probably worth more than the whole house."
She just shrugs, gathering his clothes together into a loose bunch but pauses before she pushes them into his lap.
"How old are you anyway?"
"Nineteen. Same as-"
"Same as me," she says over him, but she shakes her head. She feels so much older and she still has over a week until she is actually 19.
She sits back down on the bed, his clothes in her lap, and reaches out to touch the mottled, white skin that runs down the length of his left arm.
"Oh, that," he says. "Strap broke once, loading the logs onto the transport truck. Turns out you have to move for the trees, they won't move for you." He gives her a crooked smile.
She seems to be turning that over in her mind, then looks down at the clothes in her lap and finishes giving them back to him.
He gets the message.
"Oh, I see, it's 'love 'em and leave 'em' eh, Miss Mason?" But he says it with that same crooked smile. She wonders what it would take to faze this guy.
"You know your way-" She stops and starts again. "Help yourself to anything – everything – in the kitchen."
He looks back at her as he finishes buttoning his shirt.
"Please," she says, because she means it.
He seems to know that she doesn't say please very often.
She is awakened in the morning by an insistent ringing that is coming from somewhere in the house.
She stumbles down the stairs, shaking off her strange dreams of ringing alarms that started every time she touched anything, leaving her weaponless and helpless in a sea of… something, and picks up the phone.
"Hello?" She has no idea who could be calling her, but it probably is not a good sign.
"Johanna!" The voice on the other end is bright and loud.
"Finnick?" She looks at the phone in confusion as if it could provide answers. "Wha- Why are you-"
"Hi! How are you doing?" Finnick cuts her off, his voice too bright and stretched tight, breakable.
"Seriously, what is-"
"So excited for this year's Games, right?"
She looks at the phone again. She feels like her brain is moving at half speed.
"I know I am. And! Annie is coming this year! Special request from the President. Big honor. She is so excited."
The effort in his voice is so palpable she can almost feel it through the telephone handset.
"Your Ann- uh, kidding," she covers quickly. "Is she mentoring?"
"Hopefully! President Snow certainly would love her to!"
Johanna doesn't know how much longer she can listen to him talk like this.
"Right, I, uhh," she doubles over still holding the phone, trying to think through what this means, and what she can say. "Can't wait to meet her. And, uh, see you guys? I want to hear... everything..."
"Is there anything, um, else I can do? For you?" She asks after a tense pause, then makes a face because it sounds so stupid.
"No." She can hear him take a deep breath on the other end of the phone. "No. I am not sure why I even called. I just needed to... tell someone."
"Well of course. It is such big news. It'll be fine. Great. We'll figure it out. It'll be fine."
"Yeah. Yeah. I know." His voice is getting ragged at the edges. "Thanks. It'll be nice to see you."
"Yeah. Same."
They both pause awkwardly, not knowing what else to say.
"Well, I need to get going," he says finally.
"Right, of course. Um, see you both soon, I guess."
"So. Bye," she says haltingly as she goes to hang up the phone.
She stares at it a second, then rips it off the wall with a feral yell.
They don't know the rules to this game, but it looks like President Snow is winning.
They are all gathered together in the viewing room on the train watching the reapings when Johanna sees Annie for the first time since her Victory Tour.
She is sitting on the stage next to Finnick in the background of the District 4 shot, but when the camera cuts back to the mentors after the District 4 tributes are announced, it is Mags who is sitting there, not Annie.
Johanna does a double take, but no one else in the room seems to notice. Most likely they were noticing the size of that female tribute, just like everyone else who was watching.
Johanna hopes this means that Annie isn't going to be in the Capitol after all, but deep down she knows that whatever Annie's mental or physical state, she is going be there.
Johanna can never sleep on the train, but this year seems worse. Worse even than the year of her own games. At least then she had a strategy, knew who the enemy was, and knew what had to be done to beat them. Now she feels like she is fighting on an ever increasing number of fronts, and everything is out of her control.
Her tribute this year is so small and young and terrified and the daughter of two schoolteachers. Schoolteachers! The girl has never even seen an axe, let alone held one, and she seems even more terrified of Johanna than she is of the Games. It is not helping matters.
When they finally get to the Capitol, it is all Johanna can do not to run to the 4th floor to try and find Finnick immediately, but she knows that they all have more than enough to do before the Games without her causing some sort of scandal of collusion between mentors.
She stays put.
"Look brainless, you are going to have to figure out a strategy better than sniveling through your interviews! You can only pull that off if you something to back it up once you are actually in the arena, and so far, you haven't shown me anything!"
Johanna stalks out of the room, slamming the door behind her as her tribute dissolves into yet another round of tears.
She runs into Silas in the hallway, who is apparently having an easier time with his tribute. He just raises a grizzled eyebrow at her before telling her that lunch is in an hour and the tributes have to go to the stylists after that.
"And take it a little easy on her," he says, nodding toward the closed door. "You are one of the last people in the world she is going to see."
Johanna visibly slumps a little as she takes that in before straightening back up to make an obscene gesture at Silas' retreating form.
"Like you were so easy on me," she mutters to herself. "You couldn't even pretend to give a shit."
She runs into Haymitch on the elevator to the mentor room before the start of the Games.
He shakes his head almost imperceptibly as she walks in.
"Have you seen my newest toy?" she asks, pulling a small cube from her pocket. "It's the newest portable speaker system from 3. You can sync it with all your music chips. Gift from a fan. I thought I might liven up the mentor room this year."
"You have fans?" he mutters.
"Dick. My winning charm makes me quite popular." Her lips curve in a smile while her eyes shoot daggers at him.
"Check it out." She runs a finger along one edge and an absurdly upbeat instrumental comes streaming loudly out of the cube.
"Nothing?" She whispers under the music, not looking at him. "You always know everyone's secrets. What about Annie?"
"Nothing," he whispers back, also looking straight ahead. "What about Northwest 1?"
"No go. She wouldn't talk. Basically I have squat."
They are getting close, so she turns the music back off.
"You are going to be quite popular in the mentor room with that one, sweetheart," Haymitch drawls to her.
"How are your tributes?" She asks as the elevator doors ding and open on their floor.
"Starved. Terrified. Career fodder." He says emotionlessly. "You?"
"Same."
And she opens the door to the mentor room, loud with the voices of the other mentors lining up sponsors, and lit with the glow of a dozen huge television screens tuned to the 12 empty plates surrounding the Cornucopia in the center of the newest arena. They head to their respective stations, girding themselves mentally for the 73rd Hunger Games.