I … I was dreaming about… oh, no doubt very fucked-up things that would have made Freud roll over the floor from laughter (that old, dead, perverted son of a bitch, dammit).
Now, I … I didn't know what I was dreaming about, but I knew one thing – that feeling didn't fit into my dream's context. Not at all. I-it just was way too fluffy for my incredibly tough, hurr, let's stuff our faces with manly muscular meals and flirt with some fluttering chicks and talk really loudly when answering our phone-calls 'cause for some reason we think it makes us look awesome when we answer phone-calls all arrogantly like that even though it really doesn't, hurr – dream.
…yeah.
…
Um, so I had woken up.
By the way, since you really wanted to know about what fluffy feeling I was getting, I'll tell you.
I had left the fan on and my very fluffy - oh so fluffy~! - blanket was tickling my face.
Hah! You probably thought I was dreaming about that tomato bastard, right?
N-not that it wasn't true, dammit.
I yawned loud and finally opened my eyes – very carefully though: first the left one, then the other one, bit by bit…
~*SHINE!*~
Gah!
I growled and quickly closed my eyes again, whining and rubbing them ferociously - yeah, that's right: ferociously!
God! Fucking stupid bastard fierce sunlight of shitting terror blinded me, dammit!
…
Hmrrrf. Oh well, what the heck. I guess I'd just have to keep my eyes closed for a bit longer now… you know, until the sun was shining a bit less brightly or something …
Haa …
Because today was fucking training day, fuck it.
So I crawled up, scowled at my expression because I looked like shit from my hangover, and then showered and dress in casual and comfortable (but still so very stylish) clothes and went to breakfast.
Antonio showed up late to breakfast, rubbing his eyes and muttering things in Spanish under his breath.
Oooh. He happened to sound so sexy speaking in Spanish.
I did not just internally squeal like a bitch.
Anyway, I leaned just slightly closer to try to hear what he was saying.
"... churros con leche ... churros con chocolate ..."
...
He was such a simple minded moron.
Good thing he was hot.
Then Antonio's big, shiny green orbs saw me and gave me an affectionate smile. "Good morning, Lovi~!"
"H-hi. H-hello. I-I mean, good m-morning." God, I sounded like a retard. If I could kick myself in the head, I would.
And hear it echo emptily.
...
Moving on:
He just chuckled and then leaned closer to me, staring at me earnestly.
"I want to talk to you about something."
My breakfast was cooling and turning into a disgusting mess of syrup and congealed butter but I didn't give a fuck.
"Y-yes?" I asked, my heart hammering furiously and I knew my face looked like a fucking overripe tomato again.
"Do you think I need a haircut?"
What. The. Shit.
Antonio pulled a brown curl down to his nose and let it spring back up.
"I can see the ends of my hair if I look up and concentrate very hard," he said, crossing his eyes and somehow still managing to look utterly adorable.
And therefore effectively killing the mood.
...
What mood, Lovino?
Fine! My mood then!
"Your hair is fine," I managed to choke out, scowling at my mutated-looking meal.
"Ah, you think so? That's great~!" Antonio uncrossed his eyes beamed at me and for a moment I was blinded.
I blinked stars out of my eyes, timidly smiling a no-doubt very weird little smile.
"Oho~! Look at that! A smile!" came a familiar and very annoying voice.
My smile vanished faster than an Italian retreating before a British army.
"Fucking son of a bitch asshole," I muttered.
Nonno wandered in and slung an arm over Antonio's shoulder. "Good job for making my grandson smile!" he said, giving him a thumbs up.
Antonio laughed nervously. "Ah, si, I mean, yes."
"If we're here to talk about strategy then fucking start talking about strategy!" I snapped.
Nonno looked at me tiredly, as if I'd already given him a headache and he hasn't even started drinking again.
"First thing," he said. "Do you want to be coached together?"
"Yes~!"
"Hell no!"
We looked at each other.
Damn! It wasn't like I didn't want to work with that hot bastard but I had my pride to think about, dammit!
"It's a yes," Antonio said, completely bulldozing over my very important opinion.
Nonno raised an eyebrow. "Sooo, now that that's settled without any complaints whatsoever let's talk about strengths."
"I take siestas and can retreat up to sixty miles a day," I said proudly.
Both Nonno and Antonio looked at me with a look that made me feel very, very stupid.
"You can also hunt," Antonio spoke up.
"That's because I imagine a certain German's face on their faces," I muttered.
"But he's really good~!" Antonio insisted. "All the meat my father buys from her is shot right through the eyes! Every time!"
"Not bad," Nonno comments.
For some reason that irritated me. "Well that bastard in front of me can wield a halberd and split shitloads of firewood with his big-ass axe!"
"Firewood," Antonio snorts. "I'm going to burn someone to death. Don't underrate yourself Lovino; even my mother says that you're going to win."
"Because I can run. And the only reason I'm here today was because you h-helped me before," I snapped.
"Everyone will want to help you, Lovino. You are a very likable person."
I laughed out loud right there, because that has to be the biggest shitload of shit I've heard in my life.
Nonno sighed. "Whatever good skills you two have, don't show off during these public training sessions. Rather, use them to learn new skills. Also, though it pains me to say this, you two will have to stick together."
"I don't think it will be painful at all~!" Antonio said happily.
To show him how painful it actually was, I headbutted him.
"By doze!" Antonio said in a voice that was just slightly off. "Ib hurds!"
"This is how much I care," I said, drawing a big circle in the air.
Antonio pouted. "Bud that-sa dero Lobi!"
"Well aren't you a fucking rocket scientist," I drawled.
"Yur bean!"
I felt a little guilty and I swear even my hair curl drooped. "Okay, I am so fucking sorry."
"Yay~! Lovi said sorry!"
What the fuck? How did his doze - I mean, nose! - heal itself that damn fast?!
"We're here~!" Antonio sang, completely ignoring my flabbergasted look as he pushed open the door of the training center.
Everyone who was already in there, glanced at us, then realized we didn't exactly look particularly frightening, and went back to slashing dummies/tying knots/napping.
Napping?
I shook my head, risking a glance around. Most of the Tributes were bigger - I mean, fatter - than me, but some are less well fed. Except the rich kids. They were such fat-asses that I could've - could've -
Could've what, Lovino? Rolled them around?
Oh haha.
Anyway the fat ones are the ones we call Career Tributes. It's usually Districts 1, 2, and 4. They are the ones that train and volunteer to participate in the games.
It's kind of like participating in a pig slaughtering contest. Except that you're the piggy.
So much fun~!
Anyway over the course of three days we learned to tie ropes (because that's a hella manly thing to learn), how to make a shelter (even more manly! like a fucking housewife!), and how to camouflage ourselves (nope! not useful at all because why hide when you can run like me?).
The Gamemakers appear now and then, taking notes, looking like freaks, eating from the endless banquet because they're fat.
When it was lunchtime or snack time we would all eat together in a giant lunchroom like we were all BFFs. The fat Career dudes - and dudette - all sat together because they were so fucking cool.
There was a rule that Tributes were not allowed to engage in combat with each other.
As if I wanted to touch their smelly bodies. Pff.
Anyway, that didn't stop any minor harassments.
On the very first day - no, hour - one of the boys from District 1 skipped over to us and started chattering in this annoying as fuck French accent.
His name is Francis; can you believe how utterly and freakishly gay that sounds?
Then Antonio started laughing about something and the two of them started laughing like mental clowns and then the French fuckface starting groping Antonio.
And because Antonio happened to be an oblivious bastard, he didn't even notice.
Grrr!
So that was when I went over to the rope tying booth and scribbled the Frenchie's name on every dummy I could find and - hurr! - tied the shit out of them!
Even the guy at the booth was impressed.
Or pissed because I had defaced his dummies.
But still!
So then Francis the Fuckface takes his hands out of Antonio's pants - what the fuck?! - and comes over to me, deciding he wanted some Italian booty.
But before he could even bust my Italian bubble, Antonio suddenly appeared with a freakishly huge axe.
You should've seen that fuckface's face fall and crash to the ground!
So the Frenchie just smiled sweetly at the Spaniard. "Instead of trying to seduce the murderous, bitchy wonderboy, why don't you just sleep with me?
"I don't feel like napping," Antonio said.
Both the fuckface and I face-palmed ourselves.
"Well I didn't either," Francis said, immensely disappointed.
"Ha!" I said triumphantly.
He glared at me, annoyed. "Shut up or I'll kiss you."
That effectively shut me up.
"Now, if you have nothing non-perverted to say, we'll be going now." Damn, Antonio still haven't put down that axe!
"I assume saying that you have such a lovely piece of ass will be classified as perverted?" Francis asked.
"Yes~!"
The Frenchman sighed. "Then I definitely won't say that you have such a delicious looking bottom."
Ew, what the fuck?
"Hey, leave us alone and go fuck yourself!" I spat.
The fucker waved it aside. "Maybe later. Well au revoir for now, you Italian closet-pervert and your hot Spanish ass."
"Asshole."
"Love you too." He blew me a kiss and I spent the next thirty seconds trying to rub it off.
"Fuck you!" I yelled after his retreating backside. "And that's not an invitation!" I added when he shot me a pedo-smile.
That freaky pervert. He would fuck anything that had a face. Hence, Francis the Fuckface.
I can be so clever sometimes.
...
I felt someone staring at me - don't laugh! - because it's like PMS or something!
Or was it ESP?
Anyway it was a little girl with pretty blond hair and huge green eyes. When she saw me looking she gave me a little cat smile and a wave.
S-scary as hell.
"Her name is Femke "Rue" and some weird Belgian last name," Antonio informed me. "Don't you think she's cute?"
I showed him just how cute I thought his new friend was by slapping a noodle in his face.
Femke and the other Tribute from her District sat together. Who turned out to be that tall Dutchman. He just sat there, hair gelled up high, smoking a cigarette, looking stupid and shit.
I scoff. "Unless that Dutch monster from her District protects her I don't see her outliving even me."
"You're right," Antonio said sadly, peeling the poor noodle off his face.
The next day is a private session with the Gamemakers and we get to show off our manliness - hurr!
During my session I saw the bows and arrows that I needed. They were sleek and silver and a bit lighter than my wooden ones, because I kept shooting dummies in the balls even though I aimed for their head.
...
No, their other head. Don't laugh, you sick perverts.
Anyway that's when I noticed that no one was paying attention to me, dammit!
They were all laughing like retards and eating food like the fatasses they were and they probably didn't even know I existed.
How the hell did I suddenly turn into Canada?
I turned around and finally shot the dummy in the head - the right head... oh nevermind - and no one noticed my display of awesomeness.
I was pissed as hell. Okay, I'm always pissed, but now I was Pissed. With a capital P! And italics!
So I picked a guy with a weird-ass beard, raised my weapons, and took aim at his head.
God why do everything I say sound so damn suggestive?
In case you're worrying your little head about which head it was, and yes it's the one with a face, don't bother.
Because I missed and hit the roasted pig instead.
More precisely, the tomato in the roasted pig's mouth.
Way to ruin a perfectly good tomato, Lovino.
I sighed and flung down the bow and arrow. "Thank you so much for your time, assholes," I yelled because I did have manners, thank you very much, and stormed out the door.