"Sometimes I think I left my heart in the arena," Sabrina slurs, through her drink. It's pink and green and bubbly and much too sweet. It's a Magical Melody, one of a line of drinks inspired by Lanna Linnet's recent victory.
"Hn, " Vaughn grunts. He's sloshed, sloshed enough to start thinking of foraging in forests and glimpses of a running boy and fences, fuckin' chain-link fences, talkin' through the fence, runnin' through the forest, just two fuckin' kids getting whatever fucking happiness kids could get in this shithole of a world, and then the goddamn Harvest…
"My heart was my brother," Chelsea says, too calmly, though she's been drinking nonstop since eight, and it's now midnight. "I left my heart with him, and Rick Evans tore it out and ate it."
"Goddess, Chelsea, this is why we never invite you barhopping," Lanna calls, trills, sings. Whatever. She's happy, she's got everything she ever wanted. Fame, fortune, all that shit. "You're such a morbid drunk."
"Lanna, shut the fuck up," Pierre growls. "You don't know anything about loss, you goddamn pretty fuckin' bird. All you ever fucking do is sing. One day Chelsea's gonna shoot you out of the air, and won't that be a great day for all of us?"
"You're such an asshole, Pierre!" Lanna screams. "I killed for this victory! Don't you fucking forget that!"
"And I poisoned the entire fucking Career alliance with something that I said was breakfast, you songbird, that takes a special kind of ruthless," Pierre shot back. "Who's to say I haven't spiked your drink? Goddess knows we'd all be happy to be rid of you."
"Committed fuckin' genocide," Chelsea says. "The shit we did to survive, huh?"
"Didn't you tear out someone's throat with your teeth, Lumina?"
Lumina slinks over, golden and pretty and deadly. She smiles, and her teeth are filed to a point. "Want me to try it on you, Lanna?"
"Bring it," Lanna challenges. "I'm a victor too." She flicks her wrist, and a dagger flies into her hand. "You forget, I'm a fucking victor too! And I'm proud of it!"
"And isn't that a sad fate," Sabrina says, laughing maniacally, as she twirls her own dagger in the air. No victor travels without at least one weapon. Chelsea has seven stashed around her body, and ten hidden in her elaborate hairstyle. Sabrina has even more. "Isn't that the saddest fate you could ever imagine."
"Proud, Lanna?" Vaughn asks, slowly. Deadly. "Proud that you killed…what, seven other kids? Seven was your kill count, wasn't it? Are you proud that you killed that poor little fool Regison?"
"I didn't kill him, the muttations did," Lanna said, whining. "I wept for him. I was in love with him."
"Cut the crap, you bitch," Pierre spits. "You fuckin' tricked him. Like I fuckin' tricked them. Breakfast, goddess damn, I'm a son of a fuckin' chef and I killed them with breakfast!"
He starts laughing maniacally.
"Breakfast!"
"Pierre's gone off the deep end," Sabrina sighs, still twirling her dagger.
Chelsea takes a sip of her blood-red drink and says, "We're all there, anyway."
Vaughn thinks of purple bandanas and tanned fisherman's sons and "I'm Denny. Let's be friends!"
He says, "I'mma fuckin' drink to that."