Disclaimer: I'm just playing with Suzanne Collins' characters and her world. They're hers. Not mine. Any lines from the books are hers too.

Rainy days

Madge sit in the front window of Poppa's shop, watching the rain drizzle down, trickling off the ragged edges of the faded red and white striped awning.

Sighing, she sees her breath fog the glass, obscuring the scene outside.

She wishes the sun would come out and dry up the ground. Poppa had promised to help her pick the okra and fry it up, and they can't do that in the rain. At least not according to him.

Pushing herself up, she leaves the window, goes past the glass display, letting her little fingers trace along the front, leaving a thin smear she'll have to come back and clean off later.

Poppa is in the back, dipping the chilled berries they'd bought from the man with the little boy the weekend before. They're lumpy looking, dark purple, stain her fingers, but she likes them anyways.

Reaching over the edge of the table, she snatches one up and pops it in her mouth. When Poppa doesn't notice, she does it again, then again.

"You'll get a tummy ache if you eat too many, love," he tells her, the edges of his lips twitching up and his eyes flickering to her over the top of his glasses. "You're as bad as Haymitch, eating all my hard work."

Wrinkling her nose, Madge glares at him. She isn't as bad as Mr. Abernathy.

"And just as messy," Poppa adds, reaching out and tapping the end of her nose, leaving a dot of chocolate on it.

Scowling, Madge starts to wipe her nose, but stops when she hears a little knock on the back door.

Forgetting her nose, Madge runs to it, her sticky hand reaching for the doorknob before Poppa's laughter stops her.

"Eager to see your little friend?" He asks, wiping his hands on his apron, smearing chocolate and purple down the front.

Hand dropping down, Madge shakes her head sternly.

She isn't eager, especially not to see the man with the berries or his son. "He isn't my friend."

Poppa laughs again. "He might be, if you didn't hide from him everytime he comes by."

Madge frowns up at him. She doesn't hide, she just doesn't always get out from behind Poppa's legs. Besides the boy is tall and has a grumpy face, she's pretty sure he doesn't want to see her.

Patting her head, Poppa pulls her gently from the door before reaching over her and opening it.

The man is there, just like every Sunday, his gray eyes twinkling as he smiles at Poppa.

He's sopping wet, water trickling down over the edge of his cap, dripping onto the collar of his drab shirt and leather jacket. There's mud on his boots, and Madge can see splatters of something she's horribly certain is blood, which makes no sense to her. The berry man is one of the nicest people she's ever met, even if his son is a little cranky.

Beside him, with his cap pulled low on his face, is his son.

He's only slightly less wet than his dad, but he's every bit as muddy. Little leaves and bits of grass are stuck to his pants, which are soaked up to his knees, and rain is clinging to the wild bits of hair sticking out from under his cap, dripping when he tilts his head up to look at his dad.

"Herschel," the man says with a wet grin, "nice weather, huh?"

Poppa smiles warmly, patting Madge on the head again. "Oh, I don't mind it, but Madge was a little disappointed. We'd planned a day in the garden and this storm has ruined our plans."

The man's grin widens and he leans down, hands to his knees, to Madge's level. "Staying dry, little lady?"

Madge turns and buries her face into Poppa's thigh, nodding.

"Still not talking, huh?" He asks, a little chuckle in his voice as he straightens up, popping his back as he does.

Peaking out, Madge looks up at him and the boy.

"We found strawberries," he says, nodding down to his son.

The boy holds out a soggy looking brown drawstring sack, stained with watery pink at the bottom.

Clapping his hands together, Poppa laughs in delight. "Wonderful!" He takes the sack, opening it and peaking inside before smiling brightly at the boy. "Madge loves strawberries."

Looking to Madge, the boy's nose scrunches up. "Oh."

"You could try selling up at the Victors' Village too, if you have extra," he tells them as he walks away to put the sack on the table. "Haymitch is particularly fond of them."

Nodding, the man's eyes follow Poppa as he goes to the front of the store to get the money for the strawberries.

His gaze travels back, dropping down to Madge still standing awkwardly in front of him.

Immediately, her eyes fall, down to the puddle forming at his and his son's feet, growing larger as the seconds tick by.

"Helping your granddad?"

Eyes still on the ground, Madge nods.

Something rough and warm is suddenly in her face, on her nose, wiping at the chocolate from the tip. She instantly pulls back, making a face as she does.

A deep chuckle fills the air.

"You got a little messy there."

Glancing up through her bangs, Madge shakes her head and rubs the last of the chocolate from her nose. "Poppa did it."

Looking at the boy, Madge finds him watching her curiously for a moment before his eyes jerk away, over her shoulder to the table.

Madge suddenly feels her cheeks burning.

He's from the Seam, the only chocolate he's probably ever had was from her, when Poppa had let her take him some for getting her ball back.

"Can I Poppa?" She'd asked softly, pointing at the work table and the fudge spread out on it, after the boy had disappeared with his dad.

She'd felt bad for not speaking up, not speaking clearly, and she'd had the sudden urge to do something.

It had been Madge's favorite fudge, thick with chunks of pecans in it, and they'd only just made it. Poppa had tossed several of the freshly cut squares into a bag and pressed it into Madge's hand, gently pushing her out the door and after the boy.

"No backing out now, love. He deserves a proper thank you," Poppa reminded her when she'd hesitated.

Running after him, she'd blundered again, shoving the treat at him and not even waiting for him to see what she'd given him.

Now he's wet and filthy, waiting on Poppa in a room filled with the scent of chocolate and taffy.

Belatedly, Madge realizes her lips are probably stained purple from the berries she'd been eating. A taunt she hadn't even known she was doing.

Biting her lip, Madge turns and, almost tripping over her clumsy feet, runs to the table.

She scoops off several berries, letting them fall off the table and into her tiny hand before running back to the man and boy.

Holding her hand out, she offers them some.

The boy's eyebrows pull together, staring uncertainly at her for a second, then his dad reaches out.

Big fingers quickly snatch up a few chocolate covered berries, tossing them gently into the air and catching them in his open palm with a smile. "I guess you taste tested them?"

Madge nods, forcing her eyes to stay on him and trying to smile. It only comes out as a strange little quirk of half her face, she's sure, but it was a try.

Taking his big hand to his mouth, the man tosses a couple of berries in, eating them silently. His mouth splits open, revealing purple stained teeth. "Not bad."

A little giggle spills out, up from Madge's stomach and out past her lips, and she smiles up at him, covering her own mouth with her free hand.

He gives her a little wink before running his tongue over his teeth, wiping away the purple. Mostly.

"Try some, Gale."

At his dad's prompting, the boy presses his lips into a line, apparently readying himself for something unpleasant before taking a few chocolate bits from Madge's still outstretched hand.

Slowly, he pops one into his mouth, chewing carefully.

After a second, he shoves the rest of what he'd taken into his mouth.

"Good, huh?" His dad asks, smiling knowingly down at his son.

Poppa finally comes back in, a little satchel of coins in his weathered hand.

"I hope that's enough, Asher," he says, holding it out to him.

"Probably too much." The man raises a berry, pinched carefully between his fingers. "Your granddaughter is giving out your product."

Shrugging, Poppa laughs. "I could never sell all of them anyways. Enjoy yourself. Take some for the kids."

It's partly true. Poppa make more candy than he could ever sell, mostly because the Capitol gives him a ration of supplies, and if he doesn't use them, or tries to give them out as anything other than candy, he'll be punished. It's some kind of game to the people in charge. Wasting food rather than letting starving people have full bellies for a night.

He isn't supposed to give out his finished product either, but he accounts for it by having pesky mice and a good relationship with the Head Peacekeeper, a man with a love of smooth fudge and divinity. Those are the only things standing between Poppa and a jail cell, at least according to her daddy.

Before the man can protest, Poppa is at the table, filling a small paper bag with chocolate covered berries.

"Herschel, I can't." The man shakes his head, holding up his hands and refusing the bag.

"Of course you can," Poppa laughs, giving Madge's ponytail a tug. "Madge insists."

Madge, rather than nodding, just gapes up at the man, wondering if he'll get mad.

She's seen it happen. People from the Seam have a funny way about them, getting loud and snappy if they feel insulted. Getting free food, Madge has slowly discovered, is definitely insulting to them.

Her eyes drop to the boy. He's scowling, arms crossed over his chest and his eyes focused on the bag, almost daring it to force its way into his dad's hands.

He must feel her staring, because his eyes are suddenly on her, stormy and gray, unhappy at being wet and dirty and offered sweets.

Madge feels her face begin to burn and she focuses her gaze down, on his dirty boots instead of his cranky face.

"Well, if Madge insists," the man's deep voice rumbles over her.

Looking up, Madge watches his rough hand take the bag from Poppa and carefully place it in a loop, on the strap of the bag he has slung around his shoulder.

"A pleasure, as always, Herschel." Turning, the man reaches out, tapping the end of Madge's nose. "Stop being so loud, okay?"

For a second Madge doesn't understand. Had she been noisy? She'd thought she'd been quiet, wasn't that what Poppa and her parents were always telling her? She was too quiet?

"You must be part mouse," Mr. Abernathy had told her once, when she'd spent an entire afternoon coloring while he and her father had talked about boring things. "Make a little noise, sweetheart."

When the man smiles, giving her a small wink, she understands.

He's teasing her, and for some reason, that makes her cheeks burn hotter.

"Tell them bye, Gale."

Cheek twitching up, the boy grunts a halfhearted 'bye', his eyes dragging off of Madge, before trudging out, following his dad out the door and into the rain.

"So you were giving your little boyfriend candy?" Poppa asks, pushing his glasses up his nose and smiling brightly down at her once they're gone and the door is snapped shut.

Madge turns her back on him, crossing her arms over her chest and glaring at the door.

That grumpy boy isn't her friend, and he definitely isn't her boyfriend. Poppa is ridiculous sometimes.

He pinches her cheek. "Oh, love." With a little chuckle he scoops her up and carries her to the table, setting her down on one of the stools. "The two of you could sell chocolate covered berries together."

"Poppa..."

"He could go out and get the berries and you'd dip them. It would be quite the team."

"Poppa..."

"One of you will have to learn to speak though."

"Poppa..." Madge throws herself across the table in exasperation. He's being silly again. "He isn't my boyfriend."

Kissing her head, he chuckles again.

"He likes you."

"Nuh-uh," she huffs, sitting up and glaring at him.

"He couldn't take his eyes off you," he tells her, his smile widening. Reaching out, he smoothes her hair. "And who could blame him? You're as beautiful as your mother."

Rolling her eyes, Madge picks up a berry and studies it, wondering if the boy will like them as much as she does.

Probably not, he is a little cranky.

#######

Gale races ahead of his dad, jumping into a puddle and sending muddy water flying out, splattering messily against the back wall of the tailor's shop.

"Gale," he hears his dad warn him.

Grinning, Gale stops and turns, trying and failing to look apologetic.

"We're messy enough without you trying to swim out here," he tells him when he catches up. "Get under my coat. Don't want you catching a cold."

Nodding, Gale lets him tuck him under his side in a half effective attempt to keep the rain off his head.

"You're going to have to share your candy with you mother and Rory, you know?"

"Yeah," Gale nods. "I know."

They make their way home after that in silence, which bodes ominous to Gale. His dad is a talker. Quiet isn't good.

When they get home, kicking off their muddy boots and shrugging off their sopping wet coats, Gale goes to the table and grins, handing his mom the game bag.

"My snares caught two rabbits," he tells her proudly.

His mom smiles, taking his face in her hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead. "Very good, sweetie."

Hopping onto his seat, Gale beams. He's providing for the family. Soon enough, he'll be able to go into the woods while his dad is in the mines. That'll be an even bigger help.

With a groan, his dad drops into his normal chair, tossing the paper bag onto the table gently. "Look what else he managed to get."

Crossing his arms on the table, Gale buries his face. This is why his dad had been quiet. He'd been saving up to embarrass Gale with his mother.

"Chocolates?" He hears his mother say. "How did Gale get these?"

"His girlfriend gave them to him-"

"She isn't my girlfriend," Gale grumbles, cutting him off, not even looking up. He can feel his face warming. She isn't his anything. She's a weird little girl that can't talk. "And her granddad gave us the candy."

"Technicality," his dad laughs. "Gale couldn't take his eyes off her."

Rolling his eyes, Gale finally looks up. "She had stuff all over her face."

She's messy. Everytime they come by she's got something on her face.

"He kept making her blush."

Looking to his mother, Gale hopes she'll put a stop to his dad's nonsense, but she's smiling softly, her mouth half covered with her hand. She thinks this is funny.

"They could go into business together," his dad starts up again. "Gale can get the berries and his little candy girl can chocolate coat them." He gives Gale a little grin. "Beats being a miner, trust me."

While Gale doesn't doubt that, he isn't sure candy making would fit him.

Even if the candy man's granddaughter is kind of pretty and her candy is good, she's still weird.