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I do not own the Hunger Games nor its characters.

Chapter Thirty-One

We don't get many television programmes at home, we only really watch the mandatory news bulletins and the annual Games, neither of which appeals to those in 12. The only other occasional shows we get are extravagant cooking shows from the Capitol that none of us can replicate or reruns of old Games just to remind us who is in charge. Not that we need reminding.

However, the television in my room in the Training Centre has thousands of channels covering every topic imaginable but they're all just as boring as the rest. The screen is filled with crazy Capitolites and their weird accents wittering on about nonsense that only they care about. Of course, a lot of the main channels are covering the build up to the Games and speculating over what the tributes are going through in their training. This part of the Games has always been top secret so no one really knows what the tributes get up to until the victor is crowned and can reveal all.

Ever since I got to the Capitol this year every camera has been on Finnick and reporters have been dying to know what his first year as a victor has been like and, most importantly, if there is a lucky girl who has captured his heart. I remember all the press coverage I got after I won but that's nothing compared to what Finnick is dealing with.

He's currently on my television screen, sitting on a bright blue plastic chair in an equally as bright television studio being interviews by some giggly woman from the Capitol. She has one of the shortest skirts on that I've ever seen and she keeps leaning in towards him. fluttering her huge eyelashes.

"If I'm being completely honest, every woman in this beautiful city has captured my heart," he says to her with a cheeky grin, which causes her to giggle even more.

"And have you met a lot of our women, yet, Finnick?"

"Not as many as I would like to." I have to hand it to him, he's playing up to this sex symbol thing ridiculously well. I guess he's been spending a lot of time perfecting his persona over the last six months but, still, I find it difficult to forget that he's only fifteen. The way he's behaving now is only scratching the surface, soon he's going to have to really embrace the playboy character that Snow expects from him in more ways than one.

I didn't get much of a chance to talk to him during the Opening Ceremony as some of the young, female victors wouldn't let him out of their sights but Mags told me that he wasn't sure what to tell his parents.

"They're kind people," she'd said to me, "They didn't raise him to flaunt his body and he knows it's going to break their heart."

"Well, all the more reason that they should know why he's doing this, then," I said but I don't know if she passed on the message. There are enough secrets in this world, hiding things from those closest to you makes you only makes each day more unbearable. That's what I loved so much about Vieve; I could tell her everything and she understood.

I'm broken out of my reverie by Effie tottering in to my room wearing some silver and gold monstrosity.

"You know, it's good manners to knock," I say.

"That only applies to decent human beings," she replies, "Anyway, I want to know what your strategies are for our tributes. At least one of us should try to help them." Unlike Marsella, Effie seems to want to take an active role when it comes to helping out the tributes but I think that's more to do with furthering her career than actually helping them to survive.

"After much deliberation and consideration, I have come up with an excellent, well rounded strategy." She raises her eyebrows at me as if urging me to go on. "And that strategy is to keep them alive for as long as possible."

"That's it?" She shouts, stamping her foot. "You are utterly useless!" Tell me something I don't know, sweetheart, I think as she storms out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She is one of the most infuriating people I have ever met!

By the time the interviews arrive Effie has apparently spoken to all of her Capitol friends in an attempt to gain sponsors whereas I have spent most of my time hitting the many fine bars we have available to us with Chaff. His mother has just died so his mind is as screwed up as mine, for once and our mutual appreciation of alcohol has been a great help.

Just before I can take my seat I can see Plutarch heading my way as I finish off another drink at the backstage bar. He looks as happy as ever but I think that's the only expression he's allowed to have in the Capitol, he can never look like he's not enjoying his job. Whenever I catch him showing off about the latest twists in the Games or the size of the arena I have to just switch off to stop myself from punching him.

"I haven't got long," he says.

"It's nice to see you, too," I reply.

"I'm up for a Senior Gamemaker position and I can't be seen to be away from my duties," I snort at this, "I know it sounds like I'm climbing the career ladder but this job potentially means more resources for the cause."

"Okay, what is it?"

"I've spent all year trying to get information on thirteen and I really do think it exists, the problem is even if I can find out a way of contacting them I can't really do it using government resources…I need money, Haymitch."

"Then it's yours," I say, "I'm guessing you need me to pass the message on?" He nods, says thank you and is gone as quickly as he arrived. Finally, some progress! I have no idea how he's going to pull this off and, to be honest I'm not sure if I want to know, but if all he's asking is for some money then he can have it. I can't even spend half the money that I'm given each year and then it only really goes on booze and food.

Surprisingly, my tributes get away from the bloodbath this year but it's only a few hours until the Careers take them out and I'm left cursing at the screen. After a few days of drinking and when most of the mentors have become relieved of their duties I begin my mission with earnest, approaching everyone in the rebellion about giving money to Plutarch. He got a message to me on the first day of the Games about an account he has set up and how much money he needs so all we have to do when we get home is transfer the money. Of course, it isn't in his name or registered to him. Apparently, there are actually a handful of people in the Capitol who are sympathetic to our plight, I just hope he's put his trust in the right people.

Mags isn't mentoring this year so I wait until we both go out for a meal to break the news to her but when I get there she's got Finnick with her so it looks like I'll have to rearrange.

She pulls me straight in to a hug and tells me that I look a lot better than I did when I got here, she's right, too. It seems that when I have something to focus on my need for booze subsides somewhat, not that the cravings aren't there.

"Finnick can't stay long, he has to meet a…friend" says Mags, "But I was a bit worried about leaving him in the hotel with all of those young women lusting after him." Finnick's face instantly turns red but he manages a small smile.

"I've never got to experience the delights of the hotels that Snow puts you up in," I say. I've always been a mentor so that means I'm expected to stay in the Training Centre with my tributes to work on their strategy, not that I always do.

"You're not missing much," says Mags, examining the menu.

A waitress comes over, her eyes fixated on Finnick. He really is the latest craze in the Capitol, I mean, there have been plenty of good looking victors in the past but none of them seem to have caught the Capitol's attention in quite the same way that he has.

"Wh..what can I get you, Mr. Odair?" She asks.

"Just a water for me, please…I'm saving myself for later," he winks at her and her face turns the same shade that his did earlier. I catch Mags' eye and we have to stop ourselves from laughing, these Capitolites will go crazy over the cringiest of things. After we've ordered and the waitress finally leaves Mags and I allow ourselves a little chuckle at Finnick's expense.

"Shut up!" He says.

"I see that you're more confident with the ladies now, Finnick," I say, stifling a laugh.

"Clearly I'm not, I'm clueless!"

"You'll get there," says Mags, "And I've told you that I'm always available for flirting lessons." This is when I really do laugh, so much so that I almost spit out my wine. Finnick is clearly getting annoyed but I think it does him good to remember that he's still only a teenager and part of that is being made fun of by older, wiser people.

"Look, Finnick," I say, "You don't have to say a great deal, they're already all in love with you."

When the waitress comes back with our food she looks at Finnick and this time he simply smiles at her and her face turns red, again. I raise my eyebrows at him as if to say "See?"

It isn't long before he has to leave to go and meet one of his sponsors for dinner, he's assured me that all he's been doing since he's been here is having dinner with them, nothing more, even though some of them have hinted that laws are made to be broken.

"You almost sound concerned, Haymitch," says Mags.

"Well, it's sickening, he's only young." She nods, "So I've got something to tell you." I fill her in on Plutarch's latest plan and how she can give him the money, assuming she wants to, but she just shoots me a look when I say this, of course she wants to. I also ask her about possibly recruiting Finnick but she says we may have to wait a few years, he's still adjusting to this new life that has been thrust upon him and asking him to risk his life this early on would just be too much.

"You asked me to join when I wasn't much older," I say.

"Yes, but it was quite clear early on that you hated Snow and…he still has a family."

I understand, of course, I would hate to be the one to ask him to risk his life for the sake of the rebellion when he's already risking too much.