"Come along, now," Effie said. My gaze locked onto the back of her head as she stepped past the opened doors of the train. The pink color of her wig brightened randomly as it bathed in flashes of light. There was something about that moment that froze me. The world felt quiet and slow. Too still. A dull ringing insistently pierced through the silence.
"Katniss," Peeta was saying, and not for the first time. I blinked and met his gaze. "Together?"
I nodded. Yes, of course. "Together." A buzzing noise surrounded us, and I realized the unnatural silence had disappeared. Perhaps it was never there to begin with.
We stepped out the door together, hands intrinsically linked. The buzzing noise grew, and I saw it wasn't buzzing, but people. An incomprehensible amount of people talking at once.
"Ugh," I grunted and instinctively turned my head away from a flash of light. We were surrounded by photographers again. I brought a hand up to shield my eyes. The flashes continued. Why did they need so many pictures of us?
The station was large, the largest space I'd ever been in. It put District Twelve's station, with its singular platform and utilitarian surroundings, to shame. I never knew a station could be grand. Beautiful even. The Capitols station was decorated with stone facades, wrought iron, and statues. I could se there were multiple platforms from where I stood, though, I had no idea what for. Wasn't there only one train between the Districts?
You are nothing, it said. We are in control.
"Come on, Katniss." Peeta whispered kindly. He wrapped his arm around me. "We need to move."
He pulled me along, which was fine. I could barely see anything due to the photographers. I glanced around with a scowl on my face. There were people everywhere, held back by temporary fencing. Capitolites. They were chattering and pointing at different points in space. I noticed some people were pointing in our direction. Ah, I thought. They must have been eager to see the newest batch of tributes, and here we are.
We turned to the left. We were still following Effie along a fenced off path. I could see a wide bank of doors at the end of the way, thrown open into the warm yellow morning. Peeta's hand was noticeably damp on my shoulder.
I felt a sharp yank at my hair and immediately slapped my hand towards the back of my head to push away whatever had attacked me. I briefly glanced at an orange capitolite who looked at me with obvious distaste. He was cradling his hand, which I'd slapped away. One of the Peacekeepers who were guarding the fenced path stepped between us.
"Move," he jostled my forearm with a punishing shove. Peeta pulled me in closer and hastened his footsteps, walking at a speed that was difficult for my shorter legs.
A heavy hand landed on my back, I glanced behind me with tense shoulders, but it was only Haymitch.
"Keep it moving, sweetheart." He mumbled without looking my way. He kept his eyes focused on the doors beyond us. "Almost there."
I didn't respond but kept my head down and focused on walking.
We made it past the station doors and exited onto the sun-bathed pavement. We were enclosed within more fencing. Capitolites stood beyond it, all talking, some holding flashing cameras. The glass city towered around us. Everything felt so big. Everything was too bright.
A group of twelve vehicles stood waiting within the enclosed space. They were all military issue stuff I'd seen Peacekeepers in at some point or another. Each bore a large number in bold black lettering. The one labeled '12' had the largest crowd surrounding it.
"Goodness," Effie exclaimed. "I've never seen it like this."
We all climbed into the car, narrowly avoiding the crowd's reaching fingers. It had two wide sets of seats facing each other which accommodated the four of us easily.
"Alright," Effie sat up. She had a clipboard in hand. The vehicle jostled to life. "Your first appointment of the day will be at the remake station with your prep teams."
"You're not gonna like it," Haymitch interjected. "But no complainin'"
"How bad could it—" I started.
"None," he insisted, staring at me pointedly. I looked away indignantly. What the hell did he think he knew about me? Asshole.
"Followed by your consultations and styling sessions with your designated District stylist." Effie continued.
"Make 'em like you," Haymitch gave us each a look. "You need 'em."
Peeta's hand found my knee. That was probably a good idea, I was seconds away from smacking Haymitch in the face. You need his help, I tried to remind myself. He's your mentor, you need him.
I closed my eyes briefly. The car jerked to the left underneath us, giving me that chaotic feeling of claustrophobia I associated with District Twelve's yearly school trip into the mines. Grandmother told me to be mindful of my breathing, once I'd shared with her how I felt, but it'd never worked for me. I tried it anyways, my eyes locked on the car window.
The car began descending into a dark tunnel. I looked over at Haymitch and Effie, confused by the sudden darkness.
"We've arrived at the Tribute Centre." Effie said in what I realized was an effort to reassure me. "We enter from the bottom."
The car continued driving through, eventually stopping at a vehicle sized lift that rattled me once it started moving. Effie appeared unaffected. Haymitch frowned.
The car moved some more before coming to a complete stop. Effie pressed the button on her ballpoint pen. "We've arrived. Come along, children."
She opened the door and stepped out of the car. We all followed closely. I looked about, amazed at the cavernous grey space we were standing in. There was no exit in sight, just grey cement walls and fluorescent lighting. That must be why we entered by lift, to prevent the chance of escape. Effie promptly walked towards the far wall, her absurd heels clicking along with her.
"We will take you directly to the remake centre." Effie was saying. I turned my head and watched as the other vehicles unloaded their Tributes, Mentors, and Escorts. "You will remain there through the lunch hour. We will reconvene afterwards for the parade itself and then retire to the Tribute's apartment, where diner will be served." She pressed an elevator button primly before turning to face us, clipboard held tightly against her chest. "Any questions?"
I shook my head. Peeta murmured a soft 'No,' at my side.
"Perfect," she grinned. The elevator opened behind her with a pleasant ding. "Come along."
We stepped into the elevator and turned to face the door. Effie reached out from behind Peeta to press a button labelled 'RC.' The doors had just begun to close when another group of tributes joined us in the lift.
"Excuse me," the Capitol escort, bedecked in a highly tailored purple and green suit, nodded in acknowledgement as he stepped inside. I stepped closer to Peeta to make room. "Thank you."
The tributes remained mute as they walked in behind their escort. One, a small brunette girl, the other the large brutish boy I remembered from watching the reapings. I averted my eyes, feeling uneasy about being in the presence of our competition.
"Haymitch," a blonde man nodded in acknowledgement as he entered, followed by a blonde woman who resembled him closely.
"Gloss," Haymitch grunted in return.
The elevator lurched upwards for a brief period of time. It did so at a great speed. Peeta yanked my hand into his grip, his other hand finding purchase against the wall to balance himself. I avoided smiling at him, but I squeezed his hand in return.
The doors opened with another pleasant 'ding'. The District Two group stepped out first. We waited for a moment to give them a wide berth before stepping out ourselves.
"Boy," Haymitch motioned with his chin. "Come on."
Peeta let go of me and walked off after Haymitch. I looked at his retreating back for a long time. A feeling of strangeness and exposure came over me in his absence. We'd been together nearly every moment since this situation with the Capitol began and once separated it was easier for me to focus on the awfulness of my circumstances. Effie made a small sound in the back of her throat to catch my attention and started to walk in the opposite direction. I followed hastily, still feeling untethered.
As we were walking, I felt that prickling sense of being watched. I turned my head slightly.
District Two.
I returned his frown and turned back around. No time to think about that.
"Nng," I groaned, keeping my eyes shut. I squeezed my hands into fists and hardened my limbs.
"I'm sorry!" Octavia, a plump woman whose entire body had been died a dull pea-green, apologized. "You're just so hairy!"
I fluttered my eyes open, annoyed again by how watery they were, and mentally prepared myself for her to remove the next waxing strip. She offered me a sheepish smile and ripped.
"That wasn't that bad," I tried to smile but my skin was burning. Octavia had said I would lose feeling on the leg after the first few strips, but she was nearly done and that hadn't happened yet. I kept Haymitch's advice at the forefront of my mind. Make 'em like you, you need 'em.
"Wonderful! You almost look like a human being now." She announced with flair. She wiped her hands on a cloth. "This might sting a bit."
She poured a somewhat thick liquid onto her palms and rubbed them up and down my legs. It did sting, but in that wonderful menthol balm way. I sighed.
"Thank you. We just don't have too many reasons to look pretty in District Twelve," I said in what I hoped was a convincing tone.
"Oh! Of course, you don't, you poor thing!" Flavious, a loud little man with orange corkscrew curls, bemoaned. "Don't you worry. You'll look your very best today." He picked my hand up to finish filing my nails.
"You actually have beautiful hair. For a District girl." Venia commented from where she stood trimming it. I felt the light tug of the scissors as she cut my ends. "So silky. What do you use on it?"
"Oh," I was at a loss for words. I didn't have a routine or anything. "Uh, just a bit of oil sometimes? My sister loves my hair. I think she uses oil. Maybe something herbal? I'm not sure."
"Oil is very good for hair," she replied approvingly. "What kind?"
"Oh, I don't know." I floundered. "Just the same one we use for cooking."
"No!" She sounded horrified. "Cooking oil?"
Well, isn't all oil for cooking? "I think so, yeah."
"Goodness," she mumbled with a shake of her head. "Well, no matter. We just need to do one more thing and you'll be ready for Cinna." She turned away only to return with a syringe, of all things.
"What is that?" I couldn't help but ask. She didn't look my way; she was busy pushing the plunger slightly to let a small stream of clear liquid escape.
"It's a hormone blocker," she turned my arm unto an appropriate position. "We don't want you to have your period on live television, do we?"
No, I guessed not. Now that I thought about it, I couldn't remember anyone ever having to deal with that during the games before. This had to be why. I relaxed my arm for her.
"There. Good girl." She pressed a small beige plaster onto the puncture point. "You're much better than previous tributes so far." She complimented with a pat to the arm.
"All done!" Flavius put down my wrist with a gentle pat and smiled at me when my gaze fell on him. "You just sit tight here; Cinna will be in in a moment."
I nodded and watched them gather their things to leave. My stomach roiled. I fidgeted with my feet, feeling like a child with them high off the ground due to the table I sat on. The room was so cold, the table too. All I had to wear was a thin paper-like gown that was open down the back. I rubbed my arms to try and warm up, but my nipples were already hard little pebbles, and my skin was a collection of bumpy goose flesh, slick with nervous sweat.
I was alone for what felt like a long time, but I had no way to verify that. There was no clock or window in the room. I wondered what outfit I'd be stuffed into. Please don't let me go out there naked, I worried. If I had to die, could I at least do it with all my bits covered?
The door opened. I sat up, my heart hammering hard against my bones. I was half expecting a rainbow colored or bejeweled capitolite and was somewhat struck by how much smaller and ordinary looking the man who entered the room was from the one in my imagination.
"Hello, Katniss." He stepped forward with an open expression. "I'm Cinna. I'll be your stylist."
He offered me his hand to shake, which I did, surprised by the normalcy of the interaction.
I nodded. "Hello."
He took a step away from me and seemed to consider me in a manner I was vaguely familiar with. Peeta was constantly looking at me in the same way, as if he were measuring my features, thinking about colors and shapes or whatever else artists thought about.
I stared at Cinna in return, unsure of how to react to his absolute normalcy. He was dressed in clothes that were, albeit, nicer than anything you'd ever find in District Twelve, but were in no way like what I'd seen of the Capitol so far. He wore a thick-looking black shirt, and neatly pressed slacks with shiny leather shoes. He even had a real-looking scale-leather belt, the type of leather you could make with reptiles. Expensive stuff. But what stood out to me the most was his artfully applied gold eyeliner. It curled around his eyes beautifully, in perfect harmony with his hazel eyes. It was the first time I saw anyone in makeup who I didn't consider foolish for wearing it.
"I liked how you had your hair during the reaping," he finally spoke. I blinked. "Did you do it yourself?"
I shook my head "No. My sister."
"Ah," Cinna stepped across the room and produced a white robe from a hidden built-in closet. "She's very talented. I'd never seen braids quite like that before. Classic, really." He returned to my side and offered me the robe. "You must be hungry; do you mind having lunch with me?"
I took the robe and shook my head, "No, I don't mind." But obviously, I had no choice. At least I'd be warm now. I hopped down from the table and followed Cinna, who encouraged me to walk with him past a door on the other side of the room.
"Have a seat," he waved towards a small couch that stood before its twin in the small room. I sat, watching him press a button on the wall before he took a seat across from me. With a soft release of air, the metal sheet on the far wall retreated up into the ceiling, revealing a large window with a view of the glittering city beyond.
"Katniss," Cinna said, his eyes distracted by an inlaid screen on the arm of his sofa. "What did you think about last years District Twelve costumes?"
I shrugged. "It would've been nice if they'd worn pants." Last year, the District Twelve tributes were lumps of coal. They'd been covered head-to-toe in coal dust, naked as the day they'd been born. Their grey eyes stared out across the country with a panicked light that was almost as impactful as physical touch.
Cinna nodded, his attention on me again. "I agree with you. It wasn't the right thing to do, either."
Soundlessly, the coffee table between us opened a middle compartment and produced two plates with identical meals. Cinna picked up a plate for himself and smiled at me with encouragement as I cautiously picked up the second.
The meal was as delicious as it was unfamiliar. Chicken and chunks of oranges cooked in a creamy sauce; laid upon a bed of pearly white grain I couldn't recognize. There were oddly shaped green beans, tiny onions, and rolls shaped like flowers. Beautiful. Expensive, surely. I considered Cinna more critically.
"You're new, right?" I lowered my plate to my thighs. "I don't think I've ever seen you before."
Cinna smiled, and I was again struck by how normal he looked.
"Yes, this is my first year in the Games."
"I guess they stick the new guys on Twelve, huh?" I said.
"No, I asked for Twelve." He said without further explanation.
I looked down to push my fork against my grain, revealing a green leaf I'd never seen before. I ate it and was surprised to find it tasted sweet. How much would it cost me to assemble this meal at home? Even in town, we couldn't afford chicken. I could get a wild turkey, maybe even waterfowl. I'd need another bird to trade for an orange. Mr. Mellark might have cream, but he would be unlikely to trade it, so goats' milk would have to be enough. We could get peas in the market. Wild onions? I could get those in the woods, or I could get them from Gale, if he wasn't busy. I had no idea where I could get grain like this, but we had plenty of oats at home. I had Peeta for the fancy rolls. What about the sweet green leaves? I could use mint, but it wouldn't be the same. It would take days of work, hunting, gathering, and trading to reproduce the meal and it wouldn't even come close to tasting the same.
What was it like, I wondered, to grow up in a place where elaborate meals were merely a press of a button away? What did these people do all day, without the burden of work and survival hanging off their shoulder blades? Was disfiguring their bodies and awaiting the newest batch of tributes to fawn over upon the hour of their death all there was to do in the Capitol?
"How despicable we must seem to you," Cinna said.
I stared at him. My face betrayed me, I must have appeared as disgusted as I felt. That's fine. I might be dead soon; let him see how disgusted I was by the whole lot of them.
"No matter," Cinna continued. "So, Katniss, about your costume for the opening ceremony. My partner Portia and I, she's the stylist for your District partner, have discussed it at length. Our current thought is to dress you in complimentary costumes." He paused, briefly. "As you know, it is customary to reflect the flavor of the District."
"So, I'll be a coalminer?" I hoped I would. You were less likely to be naked if the costume was coalminer. They at least had to put pants on us, right?
"Not exactly," Cinna said. "You see, Portia and I think the coalmining thing is very overdone. No one will remember you in that. And we both see it as our job to make the District Twelve tributes unforgettable."
Oh, I'll be naked for sure, I thought.
"So rather than focus on the coalmining aspect, per se, we will be focusing on the coal itself." He continued.
Oh no, it'll be just like last year. I mentally cringed. Everyone's going to see my butt.
"And what do we do with coal? We burn it." Cinna said. He gave me a moment to let that sink in. "Say, you aren't afraid of fire, are you, Katniss?"
Hours later, I stood at the stables waiting for the opening ceremonies to begin. I was wearing either the most sensational, or the deadliest costume ever worn in Hunger Games history. It was a simple all-black ensemble. I wore a tight leather unitard that covered me from neck to ankle, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Shiny patent-leather boots laced up all the way to my knees, and a fluttering metallic cape made up of gold, orange, yellow, and red fine metal strands that ended in an artfully ragged matter, almost like the wispy ends of a burning fire.
My face was kept mostly free of makeup but dusted with a shimmering golden highlighter. My hair was gathered into a braid, as was my usual style. "I want the audience to recognize you when you're in the arena." Cinna had said as he finished my braid. "Katniss, the girl who was on fire."
It is entirely possible that Cinna's apparent calm normalcy was merely a cover for absolute madness.
Thankfully, I didn't have to wait by myself for long. Peeta arrived with Portia and his prep team a step behind him, his bottom lip sucked inside his mouth in a nervous habit.
I whistled. "Look at you." My eyes looked him up and down. "You look…"
"Ridiculous?" Peeta tugged on the tight fabric at his thigh. It barely gave. "I'm chaffin' sumthin' awful." He grunted miserably. My smirk spread into an actual smile. Peeta's accent rarely came out that strong unless he was having a bad day.
"Good. You look good." I rested my hands on his chest and looked up at his eyeshadow. "Fanciest coal miner I ever saw."
"Ha! Too bad everyone back home's gonna see it." He cringed. "I can hear Rye."
"Pfft," I chuckled and took a step away from him. I lay a hand on the chariot. "Well…"
"Uh-huh," Peeta took a step onto the chariot himself. "I'll rip your cape off if you do mine?"
"Deal," I took his proffered hand and stepped up onto the chariot beside him. I turned to arrange my cape away from the wheel. I figured getting strangled early in the game wouldn't be a good strategy.
"You on the other hand," Peeta smirked at me playfully. I blushed hot and bright. "Well, I really can't say in public."
"Stop." I chuckled softly. Peeta picked up my hand to kiss my knuckles. A sweet feeling of affection spread across my chest.
"You look beautiful." He said with solemn honesty.
I smiled back. "Thanks."
"You know, when Haymitch said we should just go along with whatever they had in mind, I really don't think he saw this one coming." Peeta said as he looked down at his outfit.
"Where is he anyways?" I looked around. The other tributes stood on their own chariots, surrounded by their teams. Peeta's stylist and prep team were a few steps away from us. No Haymitch or Effie in sight.
"You'd think it'd be his job to protect us from this sort of thing." Peeta replied.
"With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not a good idea to have him around open flame," I said.
Peeta laughed and I joined him. The nerves were making us strangely light, which would have been fine, if it wasn't attracting so much attention. We were the only group laughing. Even the Careers looked serious. Everyone else looked as scared as I felt. I dropped my smile as I noticed Two staring at us again.
"Okay," we turned to watch Cinna approaching. "We'll be lighting you just before you exit onto the Corso. No need to worry. It's not real flame, just a bit of synthetic fire Portia and I came up with." He paused to give us a reassuring look each. "You'll be perfectly safe."
I doubted that. I glanced over at Peeta who appeared to share my opinion, a frown marring his features.
I looked back at Cinna's neutral face. I was convinced. He must be a madman.
Cinna came up to my right and started rearranging my braid over my shoulder. "After tonight, everyone will remember you." He placed a hand on my shoulder. "Heads high and smile."
Yup, mad.
The anthem began to play, it was the loudest I'd ever heard it. The words were nonsensical to me as the fear that clawed at my insides kept my brain foggy and confused. I took a deep breath and tried to get a hold of myself by keeping track of the anthem's verses.
Oh, Horn of Plenty
One Horn of Plenty for us all
I gripped the edge of the chariot and took another breath. I tried not to think about anything, but my bones were rattling inside me like loose coins.
The brave shall heed the call
And we should never falther
One Horn of Plenty for us all
With a bellow from their horses, the Tributes from District One started off the parade. We watched them, turning our heads to the right. My heart hammered as I took in how much larger than us they were. Healthier, stronger. I felt Peeta lace our fingers together, my clammy skin heated up from the contact with his warm palm.
Like clockwork, the Tributes from District Two followed by District Three galloped away. I gulped. At the rate they were going it'd be our too soon.
"Remember, you need to make an impression. The costume can only take you so far," Cinna was saying from somewhere under water. "You need to engage with the audience."
"Thanks, we will." Peeta appeared to be the only one of us with the ability to speak. "Right, Katniss?"
I looked to my left, my eyes landing on both Cinna and Peeta. I nodded choppily.
"She's just a little nervous," Peeta said at Cinna's concerned look. "She'll be fine."
In no time at all the Tributes of District Ten trotted out. I took a deep breath. It was happening, regardless of how ready I felt. I needed to get it together.
"Okay, it's time to light you guys up." Portia said as she handed a flickering torch to Cinna. "Good luck out there."
I braced myself, as if tensing my muscles could ever protect me from being set on fire. A few seconds passed and I didn't feel any different. I turned my head towards Peeta to see what he thought and immediately had the breath stolen out of my lungs.
Peeta still had his eyes slammed shut, his body was tensed like I was a moment ago. I put my hand on his shoulder to get his attention. He fluttered his eyes open, and I couldn't help but smile.
"Wow," Peeta was looking at me in amazement. "Katniss, you're on fire."
My smile grew into a grin. "Peeta, you're on fire."
Peeta smiled at me in return and that too mesmerized me. The fire, on him, burned bright gold. His diadem flared with otherworldly golden light, the fire dancing across his nearly white-blonde hair. And his eyes, already so blue, so familiar, were turned into precious stones by the light that surrounded him. He was beautiful.
The moment was broken as our horses shouted and began trotting towards the street. I grabbed Peeta's free hand and held onto the chariot with the other. There was no time to think. I hoped my face wasn't frozen in fear.
As we exit onto the street the cheering crowd briefly paused in alarm at our unusual appearance. Quickly, they rebounded, breaking into cheers and shouts of "District Twelve!" Every eye was on us, pulling attention away from the three chariots ahead of us. I stared at them in return, mouth agape. I felt so small, like a spider trapped inside a glass. My eyes ran across the crowd stopping with surprise on one of the giant television screens lining the street.
It was us, in the fading light of twilight, shining, bright and breathtaking like otherworldly celestial beings. Cinna was right, I was unforgettable, we were unforgettable. I tested myself by letting go of the chariot and raising my hand in a wave. Heads high and smile, Cinna's advice returned to me. Engage with the audience. I smiled and blew a kiss.
"Katniss!" they were shouting my name "Katniss! Katniss! Over here! Katniss!" A red rose landed on my shoulder, so I took it, kissed the bud, and used it to wave at the crowd. More flowers came our way. I blew a kiss again and hands shot out to catch it, as if it were a real tangible thing.
"That's perfect," Peeta murmured at my side, his own face turned away from me as he waved at the crowd. He let go of me, and I briefly scrambled to catch his palm again, when he merely slid it across my back to grip me by the hip, holding me in a side embrace. "We'll get sponsors for sure."
I glanced up at the side of his face and turned back towards the cheering crowd, my own hand coming to rest midway up his back underneath his cape. The crowd went wild. They'd never seen tributes presented as a team as we were before.
The loudness of the music, and the eagerness of the cheers seemed to beat into my body from the bottoms of my feet to the top of my head. A sort of euphoria engulfed me. They loved us. Surely, we could get sponsors. Surely, one of us had a shot at survival.
The chariots gathered in the City Circle, coming to a stop right at the steps of President Snow's mansion. Only the wealthiest Capitol citizens were invited to attend the tribute parade from within the Presidential mansion. I'd never fathomed I'd see it in person. Every window was occupied. Men and women hung halfway out the windows, some seated, others standing, tossing rose petals towards the dressed-up children bellow. As our chariot came to a stop, the music ended with a graceful flourish.
President Snow, a small, unchanging man whom I'd known by sight my entire life, stood at an elevated podium. As was tradition, he welcomed the years tributes and delivered a speech that was in many ways similar to the Treaty of Treason. As he spoke, the cameras glided around us, silent and suspended from complicated metal contraptions. From the television screens I could see that we were featured heavily, our costumes growing beautiful still as the sunlight extinguished. They made an effort to include the other tributes in the broadcast, showing each pair in turn, but the camera rarely left our side for long. I doubted I'd ever forget the image of us, intertwined and shinning within a cocoon of golden fire.
When the speech ended, the chariots returned to the Tribute Centre stables. Peeta and I stood frozen in place as our prep teams engulfed us in a cloud of praise. I noticed multiple tributes shooting us dirty looks as they passed by, which was understandable. We'd literally outshone them all. Cinna and Portia carefully removed or still-burning capes and headpieces, which Portia extinguished with foam from a canister.
"We did it," Peeta said breathlessly. I glanced up to meet his eyes. "I was shaking like a leaf the entire time."
My free hand came up from my side to pat him gently on his stomach. "It didn't show. I'm sure no one noticed."
Peeta's lips came up into a boyish smile, "I'm sure no one noticed much of anything but you. You should wear flames more often, they suit you." The look he gave me then was so genuinely sweet and honest, I couldn't help the rush of warmth and affection that filled me. I reached up to touch his cheek.
"I'll keep it in mind, I'm sure they've got flaming dresses 'round here somewhere." I grinned, and without any thought about where we were and who might be watching, I stood on my toes just as he ducked down to meet me with a kiss on the lips.
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