Blaine Abernathy: A Canary Caged
Disclaimer: I do not own Hunger Games
Chapter 18: The Banquet
Blaine's POV
"Are you sure you're okay?" Haymitch asked.
I shook my head under the covers. I felt sick and exhausted after crying last night. I don't know what got over me. I just felt like crying when watching Rue die and later had a dream of Mike's death. It seems the past will never go away for me.
Haymitch gave me a glass that had medicine in it. It was called a Pick-Me-Up. Used when people feel sick, but not because of an illness. I drank it, noting it was overly sweet. It doesn't work immediately, but I'll feel better in an hour or so.
Haymitch sighed and adjusted the blanket before getting up, "Okay, Sweetheart. I'll be going and keeping the rascals out of trouble."
"Okay," I mumbled.
With that said, Haymitch left the room.
One of the best things about Haymitch is that he doesn't hover.
.o0o.
"Meow?" Midnight cooed as he snuggled against my face.
I was still in a funk and forgot to feed him. The Pick-Me-Up took care of the ick I was feeling, but not the migraine. So absent-mindedly, I searched for the ordering device to which Midnight spoke to it. A tuna bowl came up in less than five minutes, along with milk. That would satisfy the bugger for a while? The kitchen staff is aware of Midnight being here. The Avoxs fed him using the device when I was busy and had the cat meow.
I closed my eyes and tried to go back to sleep to wear off this dull migraine. I took a couple of aspirin to rid it, but it had a mind of its own. I tried everything to relax: sleeping it off, dark room, and silence. But all it did was nothing. Therefore, I do what I do with it… just suffer until it's gone.
I petted Midnight in a soothing rhythm while he ate. It was calming that I forgot the migraine and focused on the quiet purrs that ruptured from the feline. Usually, when I get sick, I imagine my mother taking care of me. It wasn't a good sign when a child in District 12 got ill. When they do, they usually die from the sickness.
Mom knew her ways against the illness for cases like mine. How she would stay by my side, cuddling into her warmth in smelling the sweet perfume dad bought her while she combed her finger through my hair. My favorite part was when she would sing to me. Songs like 'Deep in the Meadow .'Now it was silence in the dark. Since Lucy's death, my life has been in the dark. Lost in the isolation that Haymitch and I created for over a decade.
That was when I heard the door creaked open. I didn't move from my position when the person walked around the room and into the bathroom. I suspected it was one of the Avoxs, maybe the red one Katniss accused she remembered. She was very kind since she helped on the first day of the Game after the bloodbath. I must order her in what her name is instead of Avox.
A hand gently removed the blanket in the darkroom as the person shook my shoulder. I groaned in protest at being disturbed, but that didn't bother them. They just handed me a glass of water and aspirin which I gladly took, and let me lay down. What surprised me was when they placed a damp rag over my eyes. Somehow, the cold, wet fabric felt nice.
"Thanks," I whispered.
"You're welcome," it was Cinna.
He sat beside me and took my hand, gently squeezing it. His hands were still soft, unlike anyone I had touched to be naturally. I could tell that it wasn't genetically altered. I sighed, pulling my hand back, unable to concentrate as I sat up, removing the rag. Only to regret it but continue to evade the disturbing light.
"What are you doing here, Cinna?" I asked, covering my eyes.
"Today is day ten," Cinna said as he tried to help me lay back down.
"So," I growled.
"It's the tenth day banquet," Cinna stated.
He got up to give me some space and went to open the window letting natural light in. Though, I loathed Cinna at the moment to see the noon hour sky of the Capitol.
"What Banquet?" I asked.
"The banquet, where the Gamemakers and sponsors host honoring the ten day success in the 74th annual Hunger Games. Haymitch would have gone. However, he suggested you go as a representative of District 12 and with a date." Cinna announced.
I paused in irritation.
A date, what the hell! I thought.
I was told I was no longer an escort for those sniping sons of a bitch Capitol pigs! That was what President Snow said to me, along with other things. Cinna handed me a letter that was ivory enveloped and written in red ink. I paled at the sight, knowing what the ink was made of, along with a rose stamp.
Ripping the seal to read President Snow's request that Seneca offers a generous amount of money… to be his date for the banquet. No intimacy requires other than kisses and close encounters. I know President Snow highly recommends a relationship between Seneca and me. But still, what happened to my choice?
Anyway, if refused, the two tributes won't last to see another day, even when given the privilege of romance.
What romance privileges? I thought.
I grabbed my tablet to see the recaps of what had happened. I was utterly shocked to see the time was almost three o'clock in the afternoon. But also check the recaps on the Game today. When all of a sudden, the news report came in, I literally dropped my mouth. Rule change!
""Yes, for both tributes from the same district will be declared winners if they are the last two alive," Claudius announced earlier in the morning.
That's impossible, I mentally yelled.
There hasn't been a rule change or the exception of two victors in the history of The Hunger Games. The only event that could hold the liberty of this offense would be a Quarter Quell, which doesn't start till next year. I suspect Haymitch had part of this since he seemed discreet this morning. After checking on me last night. He did mention talking to Seneca about the romance. But I didn't think of a rule change. I growled before putting the electronic device away. For it was yesterday's news when I left early.
"So, are you here to make me look pretty?" I asked, getting out of bed and heading to the window to glare at the direction of where President Snow Mansion was.
I played my part of the contract, and he decided to wing it like some pimp. I suspected Cinna would say yes and go on flamboyant affairs.
"We're here to make an impression," Cinna answered.
He walked to the closet to pull out a dress bag he had brought the other day. He unzipped the bag to reveal something that wasn't black. Or dark colors. It was red. A red evening gown. It had asymmetric slash-style cutouts accent the shoulders and neckline while sculpted styling frames a feminine silhouette along the bust, waist, and hips. The contoured skirt tapers to the knee and flares to a flute while the floor-brushing hemline ripples.
Seneca must have put in a request for the color. Or Cinna was aware of this date and knew Seneca Crane's color. Seneca usually wore black, white, gray, and red. Those were his trademark colors. Previous attires I wear have been black with red accents. I did not expect a full red ensemble.
When Cinna flipped it, the back was simple. I looked at him, then the dress again, estimating the hem would not go past my height. In other words, drastic high heels.
"It's lovely," I complimented. "Although, long. You're planning on killing my feet again, aren't you?"
He bends down to pick up a pair of heels that brings nightmares to all female mentors. They were a pair of pumps. The heels were thick this time and not pointed. Cinna held a deviant smile which Katniss told me to be afraid of. Midnight hissed at the shoes, ready to scratch them out of his new friend's hand.
"You'll catch flies if you keep your mouth open," Cinna announced.
I closed my mouth and stormed into the bathroom and into the shower.
I could hear Cinna chuckling as he set everything up.
Shaking my head, I stripped off my nightgown and undergarments before getting into the shower. The glass panel had an enclosure with water glass detail to give privacy. As people from the Capitol, or at least stylists, don't respect people's privacy. As Cinna walked in, leaning against the sink, arms crossed, as he went through the products.
"May I ask about your relationship with Seneca Crane?" Cinna asked.
I grabbed a bottle of shampoo and washed my hair. "It's complicated."
"Complicated," Cinna repeated with a snort. "Caesar Flickerman would disagree."
I chuckled at that. Although things have changed. I know Seneca holds an interest in me. He had a crush on me since my pre-games. After winning, his crush becomes an infatuation, some might say obsession. But I prefer Seneca out of all the clients. He doesn't use me right away. Seneca tries to be a romantic.
The first time he bought me, he arrived at the Training Center with flowers, took me on a private date so that we wouldn't be spotted, and then to his home. I thought right away he was going to take me. Instead, he led me to the living room of his apartment and set me down as we talked more with a bottle of wine. Slowly, he moved onto me. Holding my hand, tracing his thumb along it before sliding it along my arm and gently caressing me. He carried me to his room when he sensed my nerves were gone.
A romantic. Seneca Crane was a romantic, and I wished he was the Client who took my virginity. Not Augusta Flickerman. And every sexual encounter we shared, I was able to feel something. Able to feel bliss when other men left me unsatisfied or didn't allow me to finish. Seneca made sure I enjoyed it as he did.
If only he was not a Gamemaker.
If Seneca Crane was not the Head Gamemaker. I might have fallen for him. But even then, love was dangerous. A lover, or even a partner you share feelings with, can be used as a weapon against you.
"We're dear friends," I lied. "Maybe a bit platonic. Since I'm one of his favorites."
"And you're okay with this?" he asked.
"More or less," I said, rinsing. "I'm like the second favorite. His job is top priority. Being Head Gamemaker and all. I'm surprised he hasn't paid billions of dollars to be his bride…."
"Paid to be his bride?"
I sighed, "Cinna if you're going to be part of the Hunger Games… there are many things you should know and be quiet about."
I continued my routine, making sure my hair was thoroughly washed. Followed by shaving my legs and armpits, despite being waxed since arriving at the Capitol. Along with body wash.
When I finished my shower, I grabbed a towel and came out. Cinna had his back turned from me. I was surprised by this. Most Capitol men wanted to see all this. A strange feeling tickled a sensation in my chest of his manner. Shaking that thought aside, I returned to my routine, grabbing some lotion. Afterward, I put on underwear, a bra, and a robe.
Cinna turned around and led me towards the vanity, where he did his magic. This time I didn't focus on his eyes and stared at the tablet, concentrating on the game. As I kept track of Peeta's health. Cinna did his magic on my hair, coming wet locks till they were untangled. He partially dried it, putting rollers in my hair. He stepped back and turned me around to face him.
The screen was on playing the Game now. As it started off, Katniss found Peeta under her. She squealed, jumping back at the river. I couldn't help but laugh at her aloof behavior in forgetting Peeta's extraordinary ability in camouflage.
"Close your eyes again," Katniss ordered. Peeta does and disappears into the mud, making him invisible. "I guess all those hours of decorating cakes paid off."
Peeta smiled sadly, impossible to notice. "Yes, frosting. The final defense of the dying."
"You're not going to die," Katniss told him firmly.
"Says who?" Peeta asked.
"Says me," Katniss answered. "We're on the same team now, you know."
Peeta opened his eyes, giving a slight roll of them. "So, I heard. Nice of you to find what's left of me."
"Did Cato cut you?" Katniss asked as she gave him a bottle of water.
"Left leg. Up high," Peeta answered.
"Let's get you in the stream, wash you off so I can see the wounds you've got," Katniss said..
Peeta nodded, gesturing for Katniss to lean down. He kissed her on the cheek, smearing mud on her face while murmuring incoherent words. I suspect it was the star-crossed-lovers crap. It was a good plan, but I hate the consequences which come after it. Followed by the sudden announcement of the rule change. This was one of Seneca's unknown plots that he does each year to make a twist. First, it was the fireball. Now, this? I don't know what that man has up his sleeve.
A sighed escape to think of my date tonight.
"Is something wrong?" Cinna asked.
"I don't feel like it's my date. I feel like…." I sighed. "I'm being sold."
.o0o.
Seneca sat in the lobby of the Training Center. He wore a black tux with red trim, a red shirt, and a white tie. His beard was groomed in its unique way of a trimmed cut. I took a deep breath clutching my purse, and walked out of the elevator to greet Seneca. The Head Gamemaker smiled, standing up to greet me. We hugged and kissed each other on the cheek though he tried to reach for my lips.
"Ah, Blaine, you look wonderful." Seneca complimented.
"And you look dashing, Seneca," I replied.
Seneca smiled with pride and offered an arm. "Shall we?"
I took a deep breath and gladly accepted the gesture, wrapping my arm around his. A quick look over my shoulder to see Cinna by the elevator…. he seems disappointed. I know what he feels, disappointment in the act of deception. But I had to act perfectly to keep Haymitch, our team, and the tributes alive. Seneca leaned down and brought my hand up to kiss it.
"This would be your first tenth-day banquet, I believe?" Seneca murmured.
"Yes, I'm so excited."
.o0o.
"Everyone loves the underdogs," Seneca said to a few of his coworkers who were off shift from the control room.
The banquet was hosted at the President's Mansion, covered in gold and jewels in the grand hall. There were a lot of people who attended and paid a fortune to get a VIP pass. The lounge also had a monitor so people could watch the Game. I itched to watch, knowing how my tributes were doing. However, Seneca wrapped his arm around my waist to stay close to him like some trophy.
"I don't," said a familiar deep voice. We turned around to face President Snow and his granddaughter Ceres. "Ah, Blaine, glad you could make it."
"I appreciate it," I complimented, taking a sip of Champagne. "It's beautiful tonight."
"Oh yes," Ceres agreed. "Grandfather made everything perfect!"
President Snow chuckled at his granddaughter's excitement. "Now, my child, don't overdo yourself. How about you get something to eat?"
"Yes, Grandfather," Ceres obediently replied, then grabbed my free hand. "Blaine, let's go eat!"
I stagger on my heels. Luckily Seneca caught me. I smile nervously in gratitude before following the young girl to the buffet. Once we gathered our food, we sat in a corner where a monitor was on to watch the Game. Ceres was talking about it, but I wasn't really paying attention.
The screen showed Katniss and Peeta in a cave with Peeta secured in a sleeping bag. I swore silently to see the condition of his leg. Wishing to have sent Peeta medicine. However, the ones I needed were too expensive for me. The sponsors combined to provide them, while most funding went towards Katniss.
"Katniss," Peeta spoke out. Katniss crawled to him and brushed his hair out of his face. "Thanks for finding me."
"You would have found me if you could," Katniss assured before scowling about his condition.
"Yes. Look, if I don't make it back-"
"Don't talk like that." Katniss interrupted. "I didn't drain all that pus for nothing."
"I know. But just in case I don't—"Peeta tried to continue, except Katniss kept interrupting.
For Pete's sake, let the boy finish Katniss, I thought annoyed.
Suddenly an Avox came in with a tray with a phone on it. By the image on the screen, it was Haymitch. I picked it up to answer it.
"You better send something for Peeta," I said into the phone.
"Only if she does her part," Haymitch replied.
"But—"Peeta insisted, missing what Katniss said when suddenly the girl kissed him. The entire banquet became ecstatic while watching this on every screen available. Even Ceres squealed in excitement to finally see romance in the Game, followed by a few complaints of people losing money on a bet about the couple.
"Send them something now," I ordered quietly.
"That was hardly anything!" Haymitch shot back almost so loud that I pulled the phone away. "She's supposed to be in love with him. The boy's dying. She needs to give us something to work with.
"Well, send them some damn soup," I muttered and clicked end. Seriously, my father was so stubborn when it came to the Hunger Games and alcohol. I wonder how Lucy ever feel attracted to him. Then again, their coping mechanism led to a teen pregnancy at eighteen.
After that sudden moment, Katniss pulled back. "You're not going to die. I forbid it. All right?"
"All right," Peeta whispered.
A minute later, a silver parachute came down outside the entrance. Katniss quickly grabbed it, opening the canister to reveal a thermos of broth. I sighed, relieved that Haymitch followed my request to send broth for Peeta. The bread I sent him a week ago was gone, as well as the small medicine I gave him. Katniss sighed disappointedly, then walked inside.
"Peeta!" Katniss sang as she entered the cave while holding the pot. "Peeta, look what the Abernathys have sent you."
"Is Seneca your boyfriend?" Ceres asked all of a sudden as the room went back to business.
"Pardon?" I replied, surprised by the sudden change in topic.
"Seneca," Ceres said with a mischievous smile. "He's quite handsome. Perfect for you."
"And how would you know this," I smiled at her childish accusation.
"I'm just saying, Grandfather thinks you two work well together," Ceres informed. "Better than Augusta.
I laughed and petted her curly locks. "Ceres, have you been watching teen romance shows again?"
She grinned at that.
"Although, I won't disagree about that. "
"Still, Grandfather wasn't too pleased that you're not dating someone special. You're his favorite victor, after all." Ceres added.
I doubt it. President Snow is probably telling her this because I was her idol. "Ceres, I've been busy with the Game. There's no time for pleasure until a victor is crowned. I appreciate the thought, but shouldn't I ask you… who's the boy?"
Ceres blushed at my question. I know this girl too well from the many requests I received from her grandfather. From present to the babysitter of her enjoyment of her innocent thirteen-year-old self. Music soon started when Seneca came up and asked for a dance. Wishing I could say no, I accepted his hand, and we danced to a simple waltz. It was nice, though I could tell Seneca was savoring the moment with his hand around my waist while taking the lead.
"Are you enjoying yourself, Blaine?" Seneca asked.
"I am," I answered with a smile.
"That's good to hear," Seneca murmured.
He leaned down and gave me a peck on the lips. I pecked back, going along with the act. A part of me wanted to give him a chance. To let my walls down. But I couldn't. Even what President Snow says is true and honors the new deal of performing and entertaining the public…someone I care for will be in danger.
Seneca pulled back, "I was thinking."
"Oh no, should I be afraid," I teased.
Seneca chuckled, "I assure you, it's nothing dangerous."
"We will see," I murmured.
"I was thinking about taking the next step between us," he murmured. His voice was low so that others wouldn't hear him.
"And that would be?" I whispered.
"To be in a relationship, a courtship," he answered. "I must confess…I don't like seeing you with other men."
My eyes widened, staring at him, "Seneca."
"I know the Head Gamemaker with District 12 Victor may seem scandalous," Seneca murmured, "But I do not care."
Before I could speak, the earpiece he wore, which he never takes off, peeped with a flicker of light. Most dates would scowl, knowing what that meant. That work was calling. For me, I was mentally taking that as a blessing. Seneca sighed, stepping back to apologize, saying he needed to take a call from Headquarters.
Fortunately, the music had come to an end. Seneca walked away to be somewhere private. I took a deep breath, walking over to the balcony to get some fresh air. I did not anticipate Seneca asking for a settled relationship. After the last three years, it has been more secretive. Now he is asking me to take the next step. To be official. Something that President Snow highly recommended.
But a part of me feels like I will be changing my shackles to a golden cage. To be married to a Capitol citizen, living here to continue my music and other requirements Snow has suggested. Could I leave District 12 all behind?
I sighed, staring off into the Garden. Until spotting something in the shrubbery. Stepping closer to the ledge, I noticed two men and three peacekeepers far away. I frowned, knowing someone was in trouble or had been caught. No doubt, President Snow has caught another traitor. They were too far away to hear, but I knew what was happening. As the traitor tried to beg and deceive all at the same time. The other man shook his head, punching the man unconscious before the Peacekeepers took him away.
I stood there, observing, for I knew who the individual was.
It wasn't long before the person came up. It was none other than Damon Plinth. Damon was tall, of average build, and average-looking due to his naturally unattractive facial features, which made his appearance less beautiful than most Capitol citizens. Then again, the Plinths were not originally from the Capitol but from District 2. They managed to beat the odds in the Rebellion in aiding the Capitol, and they managed to become citizens as well. Damon kept to his true self; instead, the Capitol ridiculous fashion trends. He had dark short brown hair and dark eyes.
The Plinths and the Snows have a business relationship in that they rely on one another. Then again, Damon was President Snow's godson. Damon wore his black suit, the only thing Capitol was his tie that had a trim. He walked up the step, brushing the dirt off his sleeve, then stopped to see me. After a moment, he paused before giving a smirk.
"A traitor?" I asked.
"Possibly, but I think he got the message," Damon answered.
Damon was a Cleaner and Interrogator. I've seen his work, and it's unpleasant to both ends of the stick. He even taught me ways to torture people when in private. Let alone clean up any mess I made. As I had killed three men, he was there to clean it up each time.
"Seems you and I won't be working together," he murmured as he came over, standing in front of me. "Such a pity. I do enjoy our missions."
I scowled at him.
He grabbed my shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze before leaving.
I watched him leave and waited for a moment. Once he was gone, I took several deep breaths to gain my composure. Damon is someone you don't want to mess with. And someone loyal to President Snow.
A few moments later, Seneca came to the balcony sighing in relief. "Ah, there you are."
"Here I am," I replied with a fake smile.
Seneca came over as he took my hand, "Forgive me, Blaine, but I have to go back to the Headquarters."
"It's alright, Seneca. I perfectly understand." I said with a false smile and pecked him on the cheek.
However, Seneca moved his head, and I got him on the lips. It was quick, but that didn't stop the cheesy smile off his face. Mentally growling, I force myself to blush for his amusement. Seneca leaned down and kissed me on the cheek.
"I'll make it up to you. See you at the Bettings." Seneca said and left me behind to wallow in the act.
I hate myself for what I have become. To lie to everyone, even myself, for President Snow's business or face the consequences! I leaned on the rail, head in my hand, trying to relax. At least the classical music was soothing.
Maybe Cinna was right about everything. How I lost myself and not knowing who I was anymore. I suspect Katniss also feels this as she lies to the Capitol about the false relationship. Poor Peeta, he loves Katniss like a love-drunk teen, only to be played with because of this new rule change. It wasn't right and unfair on both accounts, for Peeta and the other victors who suffered the games and watched their district partner die in every Game. I hope Seneca Crane knows what he's doing. Otherwise, it'll bite him in the ass.
Suddenly a jacket was placed over my shoulders, and I jumped, grabbing the intruder's hand and twisting to a new angle to cause pain. Cinna winced, and I took a deep breath shoving his hand away.
"Sorry," I muttered.
"No, it was my fault." Cinna replied calmly, "I should have asked before scaring you. You seemed a bit cold here."
I smiled at his gesture to take responsibility. Not only victor and entor are welcome to the banquet but also the District Designers and staff. I've already seen Effie early in the evening with her date but didn't consider Cinna to attend.
Examining his appearance to be wearing the signature black color. However, instead of the simple black shirt and pants, he wore a suit, which was still black, while the vest was gold, the same as the tie. Six gold earrings, four in the left ear and two in the right. But also some sort of chain necklace. I couldn't identify the details, but it looked like some locket. Anyway, I find his attire attractive compared to the other guest, who wore so much that it made them appear…unappealing.
I smiled and adjusted the jacket, bringing it closer to smell his cologne in the fabric. "Thanks."
"You're welcome," Cinna said with a small smile and leaned against the rail. "Where's Crane?"
"The control room called him for an emergency," I answered.
"You don't sound pleased?" Cinna noted.
"How could I be," I muttered. "If the rule change is still active, Peeta needs the medicine quickly. He's already in a state where resources are necessary, and let me tell you, the leg isn't good either."
"I know what you mean," He said with a stern face.
The face I saw before in the car and the Gamemaker's Headquarters. The expression that people from District 12 give when talking about the Hunger Games or government interaction: hate. This man in his twenties rises through the ranks to be an actual figure and hates the world around him. If I met him at mere glances or short conversations with him, I would suspect him to be not born in the Capitol. However, the slight Capitol accent gives him away though it was somewhat lacking.
"So, came here with a date?" I asked.
"Not quite…" Cinna answered. "Came here with Portia… in a platonic way."
I nodded. I don't quite understand the Stylist this year, for Portia seemed neutral, as was Cinna. Portia liked to dress up in her black garment with black translucent stockings and makeup. Were these two in the color scheme of District 12 coal mines, or was black the new sheik? It doesn't matter. When the Hunger Games are over, I can return home, change into denim, and wear a simple shirt. To go outside and bathed in the morning sun, then walked around the district to see if there was anything I could do.
But for how long with Seneca's offer now on the table.
Another song played, which I had the urge to attend. Cinna seemed to notice as he offered a hand. "Shall we dance?"
"Yes," I said, handing back his jacket before taking his hand to join the party on the dance floor.
Cinna pulled me into his arms as we danced the waltz. Surprisingly, it was different compared to dancing with Seneca or any partner I danced with. Cinna was fluent as we danced to the music. Not creating his own rhythm or forcing me at every turn. Just fluent synchronizing movement to the music. It made me smile while I gazed into those green eyes.
"You look lovely tonight," Cinna complimented.
"All thanks to you," I replied, almost blushing.
"Yes," Cinna chuckled as we spun. "But nothing is flawless except one's true inner beauty."
And here we go again, I thought.
It was starting out well until he brought out one's inner self. If I didn't know any better, I would suspect him of being a monk. Cinna noted this and did not further this discussion. So, he kept his lips sealed as we danced the night away. Forgetting the world around us or those who are oppressed in the world we live in.
.o0o.
"And then he tells me, 'All right, Cinna, I've never had an assistant. You can try if you like. I'll most likely fire you in the morning.' Two years, he said that," Cinna told me about an internship after university where he studies in the fashion industry of the arts.
How he took a part-time job as an assistant to one fashion designer. We were utterly buzzed from all the alcohol we drank. I was definitely, while Cinna seemed a bit giddy though legal to drive me back to the Training Center and escort me back to the twelfth floor. Although I may not remember much in the morning, I just like hearing him more talkative than he was this past month.
"'Good night, Cinna. Good work. Sleep well. I'll most likely have to fire you in the morning." Cinna continued. "It was a good time for me. I was exceeding in sewing, anything anyone would teach me. And Cores and I eventually became friends. And then it happened."
"What," I asked, bending down to remove my heels, for my feet were killing me. I lost balance, and Cinna caught me. I giggled, stood up straight, and leaned against him. "He gave me a signed recommendation to become a stylist for the Hunger Games."
"That was generous of him," I said.
Cinna nodded as he knelt down and helped me take off the heels. Once off, I sighed in relief and flexed my toes. Cinna stood up as he held the evil things.
"Yeah," Cinna breathed. "If not, a rookie like me could get into the big leagues."
"You can say that again," I murmured, swaying on the heel of my toes. "It's great that you're on our team Cinna."
"Thank you, but for what?" Cinna asked.
"You're work," I stated as the door opened to the penthouse. We walked in and took a seat on the lounge. "Never before has District 12 had the liberty of being noticed. All coal miners and stuff. Your dedication to what suits Katniss best: creativity in creating 'the Girl on Fire.' You have a talent Cinna. Better not waste it." I said and elevated my legs on the coffee table. I do not give a damn if it is not ladylike. "However, in the shoe department…."
Cinna chuckled and shook his head as he sat next to me. Setting the Red pumps on the coffee table. The room became silent again, which became quite awkward. I was about to say something but shut my mouth instead. I looked at him to discover he was looking at me with those eyes I had become lost in.
Three things happened afterward.
First, Cinna leaned forward. Second, he gently, if not cautiously, grasped my shoulder to look him dead on. How silvery-blue and emerald meet in a collision of emotions of empathy. And third, his lips were on mine.
The kiss was gentle, cautious, and afraid that this was a dream, like dipping into cold water, unprepared for what to suspect next. To feel special in a way that I felt against smooth lips along my own. I felt sparks fly. This kiss was different from the others. Different from Seneca. For it was with someone, I was emotionally connected to. When I responded by moving my lips along with his, he made a slight groan that made my heart flutter. My arm grabbed his shirt, bringing him closer to savor the moment of heaven when the hell had to walk through the door.
The door opened with a swoosh as a drunken Haymitch stumbled in with a flask. Cinna pushed me back roughly, straightening his figure quickly before my father could see. But that didn't stop the Second Quarter Quell victor as he stumbled in with a cocky smirk.
"Had fun at the…Banquet?" Haymitch asked.
"Yeah," I said, flustered.
Haymitch nodded. "Well, night, you two…."
He dragged his sorry ass back to his room until we heard the door slam. After that stunt, the sitting room was engulfed in silence. Nothing could be said about what just happened as my mind tried to register the event I partake in. I kissed Cinna, and he kissed me. Quickly looking up to see Cinna preparing to leave.
I sighed…it was nothing. Just a damn caught-in-the-moment crap. So, getting up to avoid defeat, not wanting to feel any disappointment in what I had just felt. It was stupid of me.
"Blaine," Cinna spoke out. I turned around only to be kissed again. It was a simple peck on my cheek, but it surprised me. I looked at Cinna's comprehensive eye in question as he pulled back, giving a wry smile. "Good night."
"G-night," I gulped and escorted him out the door. When the elevator shut, I walked back to my room in a haze, then sat on my bed confused, touching my lips.
What just happened?
Significant changes in this chapter. More depth in Seneca and Blaine's relationship. And introducing Damon early on.
In this universe, Strabo Plinth had two sons. Sejanus was the oldest, and Lucius was the younger son. Damon is the grandson of Strabo. Coriolanus Snow formed a relationship with the Plinths and became a brother figure to Lucius and a substitute son for Strabo. Hence, the business relationship.
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