AN: I've used the movie for the dialogue framework; the books for the background information.
My one and only disclaimer: Suzanne Collins is a genius… I'm just playing….
Chapter 2: 2nd Meeting
I awake far too early with my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth. Of all the things to hate about being a drunk, waking up day after day with extreme dry mouth is one of the worst. I tick, tick, tick the roof of my mouth several times trying to get some moisture in there. I notice that the sun is just coming up through the windows. If I move quickly, I can be almost done with breakfast before "they" wake up. If I move quickly… Come on, Haymitch… Move quickly… Well, hell. My body doesn't seem to want to move quickly, so I'll just have to hope that I'm early enough to be left alone.
Water… I drink about a gallon of it and then take a shower. I forgo getting dressed and put on my blue silk robe. Hope springs eternal that I will avoid the tributes at breakfast. I place my silver flask into the pocket of my robe and head down to the dining car. I look through the window into the car and drop my forehead to the door. Dammitalltohell! The boy's already sitting there eating. Well… fuck. The growling of my stomach reminds me of how hungry I am, so I suck it up and go into the car.
I walk in and take a seat diagonally across from the kid. It's a calculated move to try to let him know that I'm not up for conversation. No such luck.
"Good morning" he says quietly. He waits for a response, but I'm not going to give him one. He clears his throat, then adds, "you look better this morning."
I glare at him and start filling my plate with food. He starts to say something else to me, but before he can, Effie makes her clickety-clack entrance into the car. She walks over to stand behind the boy and places her hands on the back of his chair. Her colorful suit of orange and green is pretty overwhelming on the best of days, but her bright Kelly-green wig makes her look a little sickly. Capitol fashions… I'll never fully understand them. I'm sure she thinks she's made "bold" choices… "Bold choices" is the district equivalent of "stupid choices." I doubt anyone could pull that shade of green off without looking seriously under the weather.
"Oh, splendid, you're already up. Today is a big, big, big day! Where's the girl?" she asks him as she leans around him to look him in the face. I don't know what the boy's experience with women from the Capitol is, but having Effie's overly made-up face that close to his, this early in the morning, must be pretty horrifying. I stifle a snicker at the thought.
His head backs away from hers fractionally. "Katniss," he emphasizes her name, "isn't here yet. She's an early riser, though. She should be here soon." He pauses for a moment and then adds, "Thank you for asking about her." I can't help but wonder how he knows that she is an early riser….
Effie smiles brightly and taps him on the shoulder before adding, "Such good manners! I could almost forget that you are from District 12!" It's obvious that the boy has no idea how to respond to that, so he just offers a small smile. Effie turns to me and nods before she goes into the lounge area of the car to fuss even more with her make-up. Apparently it's true that some artists really don't know when to quit their canvas…
"So, what happens now?" the boy asks me. "What's our strategy?"
"Stay alive," I tell him. He glares back at me.
"Obviously," he answers. "A little more guidance would be appreciated. Such as, what's more important in training – learning to fight or learning to survive off of the arena."
What do you know, an intelligent question. "They're both important, but there's only so much about fighting you can learn in such a short amount of time. Some victors have been lucky to simply survive longer than those who can fight."
"So… pay attention to survival skills," he mumbles. It is at this point that I wonder how he knows this much about tribute training. His next comment makes me wonder about his mind-reading skills. "There was a short lesson in history class about the ways tributes are trained once they are in the Capitol. Unfortunately, it was only a forty-five minute class, but I paid attention. I think we all did. It was mandatory attendance because apparently nightmares about The Hunger Games themselves just weren't enough."
I like his sarcasm. It's pretty subtle, but it's there. I wasn't aware that the kids got this small amount of information about tribute training. I wonder why none of my previous tributes ever brought it up before. Maybe they did, and I was just too drunk to remember. I'm surprised by how much that thought bothers me. I decide to throw the kid a bone. "Do you have any specific survival questions?"
He chews on his bottom lip for a moment, then asks, "How do you find shelter? I've watched the games all my life, and I've noticed that some tributes find some kind of shelter, while others don't. The ones who succeed in finding shelter tend to live longer."
"Well, that would depend on the type of arena. There isn't one piece of advice that applies to all occasions. For instance," I scratch my chin, "if there's a mountain…"
"Should I try to climb up on it, find a cave, an overhang, something like that? Or would I be safer finding a highly placed flat, open space or ledge so that I can watch for any on-comers? Would that make me too visible?"
Wow, he's really thought about this a lot. I simply answer, "You'd freeze to death first." I'm thinking about expanding upon that thought, but he continues on.
" No, because then I'd light a fire."
And while you're at it, why don't you just wave your arms and yell – tribute here, just come and kill me, I think. Instead I say simply, "that's a good way to get killed." It is then that I hear the girl walking up. The permanent frown I noticed on her face yesterday, is still there… She might really be pretty if…
" What's a good way to get killed?" she asks with a wrinkle between her eyebrows. Again with the semi-scowl. Is she afraid the boy is getting mentoring that she won't? Is her attachment to him as strong as his is to her. Does she even know the boy is attached to her at all? She seems extremely detached from him.
" Oh… Joy… Why don't you join us?" I sniff, hoping my sarcasm isn't lost on her. "I was just giving some life-saving advice." Oh, joy, will these questions never end…
"Like what?" she asks. I hate people who come late to a conversation. So much catching up for them, so much repetition for me, and I don't really have the energy for that.
" I was, I was just asking about how to find shelter." What do you know; the boy bailed me out…
I think I'll throw them a bone… " Which would come in handy if, in fact, you were still alive."
The girl asks, " How do you find shelter?" Damn… back to catching her up in the conversation. Fuck it. …Although… although, she seems really, I don't know, tough, determined… strong. Much more than any girl I've ever mentored before. Unfortunately, her dismal, sullen personality might just be her downfall.
"Pass the jam," I ask her.
" How do you find shelter?" she asks again. Let it go, please, please, please… I've mentored forty-six kids… to their deaths… well, now forty-eight… hope springs yet again eternal … I know this is the first and only time they will be in the games, but I've been doing this for twenty-three… now twenty-four years. Way more years than either of them have been alive… Can I catch a fucking break?
I plead with her, "give me a chance to wake up, Sweetheart. This mentoring is very… taxing stuff." I work fucking hard, damn it. I pull out my flask and add the contents to my coffee. Damn, I'm hungry. "Pass the marmalade." She picks up a table knife and slams it between my fingers into the table.
Effie shrieks, "that is MAHOGANY!" Mahogany… I'm pretty sure neither of them has any idea what mahogany is… Even that word just shouted out by Effie must sound like something from another planet. Maybe they think that "mahogany" in that context is a Capitol word for "bad manners…" As in, "that is unacceptable!"
" Look at you!" I tell her while pulling out the knife. "Just killed a… placemat. You really want to know how to stay alive?" I flick my hair out of my face, only for it to fall back again. This will curl her toes, "you get people to like you…" I gauge her reaction, "oh, not what you were expecting? Because if you're in the middle of the games, and you're starving, or freezing; some water, a knife, or some matches can make the difference between life and death, and those things only come from Sponsors. And to get sponsors, you have to make people like you. And right now, Sweetheart, you're not off to a real good start." Let her chew on that… I notice that the boy's face is lighting up.
"There it is," he cries. He runs to the window and looks out at the approaching Capitol. If only he had her fighting spirit. "It's HUGE! That's incredible." I remember the first time I saw the Capitol. I was just as awe-struck, but the decades of subsequent trips there have somewhat diminished the grandiose nature of it as I approach. Now it just seemed gaudy, overblown, and colorfully tacky. I may be a drunk, but I do have taste.
The train circles the tracks and enters a tunnel where the lights from outside become darkened. The boy looks slightly perplexed by the darkness and looks back at us. Suddenly, the world outside the train becomes bright again. There's a madly cheering crowd along the tracks of the train. The boy looks somewhat bewildered at the crowd, but then he begins, shyly at first, waving to the crowd. Then his confidence rises, and he begins smiling and waving more determinedly. The crowd begins to wave back enthusiastically. The people of the Capitol do love their district tributes! And even I have to admit that he's a good-looking kid. Actually… they are probably the best-looking couple I've ever mentored… Hmmmm….
He turns to the girl, "Come on…" and then more insistently as he continues to smile and wave to the crowd at the station, "come on…"
The girl remains resolutely glued to her seat. I turn to her, "you better keep this knife; he knows what he's doing…"
Who am I supposed to try to save?