Author's Note: A lot happening in a relatively short timeline, so I hope it isn't too confusing for you to read! Thank you for the reviews last chapter! It means a lot to know someone out there is enjoying what I write.

Disclaimer: You all know I don't own the Hunger Games by now, but just in case you didn't… I don't. I only lay claim to my own thoughts/plots/OCs.

Without further ado, please read and enjoy.

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Chapter Seven: Pretty Dress

Fingers run along the lace trimming of an elaborate lilac dress. The garment has a regal Queen Anne neckline and a sculpted, corseted bodice. The skirt splays out and sits prettily at calf length, the fabric smooth against my legs with lace details that display a similar floral pattern as to what grows in the garden.

Ava came into my room this morning with the freshly washed, pressed garment, recently purchased by my father. She helped me dress and laced the corset back up for me in complete, emotionless silence. No words were spoken between us. However, once we were done, she stood back and nodded her head, smiling faintly in a way that indicated she approved of her efforts.

I slept propped up so that I wouldn't ruin my hair that was wrapped tight around roller like contraptions I had yet to see until last night. That discomfort crafted the loose curls that fall long and silky down my back. The ringlets are secured with a matching satin ribbon, tied into a perfect bow. My shoes are shiny from polish and there is even a spritz of saccharine perfume lingering at my neck.

I feel little more than a prized pig at the market.

It is the second day our guests have been here. The first day was tedious at best, though no more emotionally trying than I expected. They arrived late, a few hours after dinner yesterday. Despite the late hour, I entertained them with not one, but four, full piano pieces.

Roberto and Tilly are the names of the two representatives staying in our home, originally borne and raised in the main sectors of the Capitol.

They belong to and work exclusively for the family of a mysterious, unknown suitor that has taken an interest in me.

Roberto is bald and very short. He swoons over my innocence and old world charm, raking his intruding fingers through my blonde locks often. While his preference to ignore my personal space is jarring, I find his companion's demeanor even more disturbing.

Tilly ogles me with large eyes, surrounded by feather long, pink lashes. The shiny, green orbs nearly bug out of her head, protruding in a way that isn't natural. I can only assume she has undergone a Capitol surgery in order to achieve such a look, likely costing a lot of money. Her hair is swept up into a beehive of swirling green and white, with colorful flowers and decorations pinned carefully within the tresses.

Her face often comes quite close to mine. She even managed to bump the tip of her pointy nose right into the flesh of my cheek during one of Bach's preludes last night. I am unsure if that is because she cannot physically see me or if she acts that way for another purpose.

I look out into the front yard, to the flourishing garden there. Gale is somewhere I can't see, hiding and working, perhaps obscured by thick bushes or behind willow trees. Since our conversation yesterday, he has made it his priority to become scarce.

Wisteria grows up the wooden beams and posts of the porch, surrounding our afternoon tea with their pleasant sight and scent. My dress is in theme with the colors around me, likely by design.

My father is somewhere inside, leaving me to fend for myself. This is a personal interview, or as the bald man says, "A chance for us to really get to know each other!"

I sit across the table from Roberto and Tilly. Despite the food being delicious and satisfying to look at, the Capitol residents barely touch anything. They instead only take dainty sips of the Lavender-Mint tea, after having added lots of honey to it.

"Dear Madgerie, please do tell us about yourself," Roberto grins, leaning forward like we're two girls gossiping in school. "What do you do for fun?"

I clear my throat. "Well, I love playing the piano. I also often go for walks in the garden. It is quite lovely, as you can see," I tell them, gesturing a white, gloved hand towards the many flora around our property.

"Yes, quite," Roberto agrees, but his eyes don't stray from me.

I place my hands back in my lap, smiling faintly. "I enjoy reading and writing poetry." I don't want to be advertising myself like a ware for sale. I decide to end there. "Actually, I'm a little boring, I fear. I'm sorry that my personal life can't be of more interest to you."

The bald man in front of me clasps his companion's hand in his.

"Quite humble, aren't we? Oh. Aren't you just perfect? An absolutely perfect, pure flower," he swoons. Roberto winks at me before pretending to whisper to Tilly behind his hand, as if he doesn't want me to hear. "I think the young Master is gonna like her."

I smile wider and laugh like he expects me to.

Tilly doesn't react to Roberto's theatrics at all. She keeps her large eyes set on me. "Perhaps you're right, Rob, but she still looks rather plain compared to the other girls we've seen." Her voice is light and airy, but somehow still emotionless and clinical. Her expression doesn't change the entire time during the exchange.

I'm beginning to think she is incapable of moving her facial muscles, at least not very expressively. I can only guess this trait is due to another foreign Capitol cosmetic procedure, a trait to go along with her overly large, buggish eyes.

Roberto frowns in disapproval at his coworker's commentary on the matter.

"Looks do not matter in this circumstance, Tilly."

Immediately, the words strike me as odd. For a person as clearly vapid as this overly dressed, heavily made up man is, why should he not care about my own appearance? His visage boasts a vibrant indigo suit with a large, crimson chrysanthemum in the pocket. Thick, black paint covers his eyelids and there is a pop of red on his lips.

"I suppose so," Tilly agrees, content to let the matter lie.

Roberto grins at me. "Besides, I'm sure Madgerie here would be fine with a few minor enhancements. Wouldn't you, sweetheart?"

The question knocks me off guard. "What?" I say immediately, alarmed. I clear my throat, forcing a smile. "I mean, what exactly do you have in mind?"

He shakes his head and laughs. "Oh, don't fret dear, nothing too major. Just your lips, perhaps your breasts. Both of those are quick in and out procedures, of course, nothing to worry about at all." Lips and breasts - that meant surgery to have them altered or replaced.

The Mayor's daughter, Madgerie Undersee, would never be expected to do anything like that. She would never even be asked to consider it.

"I see," I respond.

I feel off kilter, trying to imagine myself as someone else, someone different. "Well, actually, there is the matter of your nose…" Roberto adds thoughtfully. He taps his chin, looking at me as if I am an incomplete puzzle that needs to be solved. "The thing is sweetie, Idon't have an issue with it myself, but Tilly pointed out last night how just a small reduction at the tip would really even out your proportions. Of course, eye color implants are also very popular - and green is the Master's favorite color - but surely that will be all."

There is a flash of anger, white and hot. I can feel my face becoming flushed. Roberto's words are getting to me in a way I never expected they would.

I feel judged and judged harshly. My outsides have been picked apart and rearranged without my consent. I am nothing more than a pretty dress, being tailored and altered to fit its owner. "A good wife would do that for her husband, don't you think? To make him happy?" the flamboyant man croons, clutching at his heart as if the idea is actually romantic.

Roberto's idea of good wife might want to do that for their husband, but I don't.

Part of me wants to say no - to refuse. That is not an option.

"I- uh, well…" my voice trails off, thick with uncertainty. Tilly stares at me with her buggish eyes and I swallow. "I do want my husband to be happy, of course," I flounder, the response being the best thing I can come up with.

"Exactly!" he says enthusiastically, clapping his hands.

I take a sip of my tea, avoiding eye contact.

I am a little frightened at the idea of staring into a mirror and not even having my own familiar face to look back at. When I marry, will my new husband strip me of my entire identity, body and all? Will every part of me be replaced until I am someone completely new, someone better suited for a new life?

I suppose the answer is now obvious. I will no longer be the Mayor's daughter. The mask I have come to know and wear so well will become null and void. I will be branded with a new identity - I will be someone's wife.

"So," Tilly begins, slowly but surely leaning forward the whole time. "A girl like you must be quite popular, being the Mayor's daughter." Her face moves closer to mine as she continues to stare at me. Luckily, there is a table between us this time so her nose stops short of a towerful of finger sandwiches.

"Not really, I'm actually a little shy. I don't have many friends," I tell her, the answer very close to the truth.

Roberto instantly coos, "A shy, small town girl that's being swept up by her own personal prince from a far away land. I just can't stand it." He clasps his hands together, eyes dreamy. "My, my. This is a love story for the ages."

"Yes, it does seem that way," Tilly replies, but I notice how her tone implies skepticism. She purses her lips, the movement subtle. "I'm sure that means you've never had a boyfriend then, Miss Undersee?"

I am unable to hide the red that comes to my cheeks. "No," I say.

She gives me the smallest, faintest hint of a smile on her frozen face. "That's good, because our young Master is very insistent that his bride be pure. It's much harder to find a virgin girl than you might think, in this day and age." She crosses her legs, her patterned skirt clashing with the multiple other colors coordinating on her body. "I mean, a girl like you would normally have a whole list of boys at her beck and call by now."

At this, I can't help but flush an even darker shade of red.

Their assumptions and opinions about me are so intrusive and demeaning. My appearance and marital appeal are discussed casually in front of me, with the slights being intrusively personal, and even more disrespectful. It all feels almost intentional, like they are waiting for me to take off my mask and show them who I really am.

"Look at that cute blush. Now, that's a virgin for you," Roberto chuckles, winking, mistaking my anger for innocence. His eyes go back to intently studying me, raking over my form up and down.

It's uncomfortable; the way he is staring. It's like I suddenly seem more delicious than the numerous treats and desserts sitting in front of us on the table. He even licks his lips.

Tilly, however, finally has the grace to look away. She relaxes back in her chair, seeming vaguely satisfied with herself.

There is a creak and a clatter as the door opens behind me.

I hear Ava's blessed voice. "Please excuse my interruption, Miss Madge, but an important phone call has come in for Mister Cavendar and Miss Walsing." Instantly, I notice both the man and woman in front of me move to stand. Roberto gives Tilly a look that indicates he has information to share with her. "Might I show you both to the office upstairs?" our maid offers courteously, bowing.

"Yes, please do," the bald man grins, then throws a kiss over his shoulder at me as he walks off. "We will have to speak more later, Madgerie. I was quite enjoying our conversation."

I smile brightly back, waving to him with my fingertips.

As the door closes, I find myself feeling completely drained. I am grateful they're gone, if only for the moment.

I stand up and with a brisk pace, head down the wooden porch steps and into the garden. I pass by marigold, peony, and geranium flowers, not even bothering to spare a glance at their eager and open blooms.

In the exact same area I spoke with Gale the day before, my body stays carefully hidden behind shrubbery. After a cursory glance around to make sure that said dark haired boy is nowhere nearby, I relax my shoulders and allow myself a moment of reprieve.

Placing two hands over my mouth, I shut both eyes tight and let out a cry of frustration.

The sound is easily muffled in the thick and luxurious fabric of my white gloves.

I take a moment to breathe deeply. I don't open my eyes - not even the midday sun can break through my tightly shut lids. I don't move. There is nothing - no cruel words or scrutinizing looks or masks or politics. Absolutely nothing exists except the quavering of my chest as I breathe in and out. I do my best to feel as if this is all okay. The future that is being shown to me is not my own. It is only a vision - one that I am strong enough to know will not come to fruition. I am capable of shouldering this burden with a pretty, smiling face, because this burden will not be mine for long.

For the first time in a while, I am not sure what the right thing is to do.

I hate having to grin and laugh and win them over - as if I actually want this to happen. It isn't as if I can do or say something to deliberately put an end to the visit or the potential engagement without it coming off as strange and out of character. I am supposed to be intrigued by all of this - a girl on the search for her soulmate. This is my chance to be swept away by a prince from a far away land (as Roberto so elegantly put it) and live my happily ever after.

I am left at odds as I try to puzzle through the conversation. Bits and pieces stand out to me - things I feel I need to pay rapt attention to.

As it currently stands, a typical marriage arrangement functions as a legally binding contract of virginity upheld on both parties' behalf until the special day arrives. For boys, some things are far easier to fake - virginity being one of them. For girls, things become a bit more complicated. It is illegal in the eye of the law for either part to break the rules of the contract. So, if a lie is indeed discovered-

I am a virgin. If I were not, I would be voiding any arranged marriage contract I enter into otherwise. Breaking that contract is taken very seriously - death being a light option in comparison to anything else. That prerequisite being known, it is clearly not needed to be discussed. I find it suspicious that Tilly would bring it up at all. Are they toying with me, holding things they already know above my head? Maybe trying to gauge my reaction to catch me in a lie?

Did I let something slip?

I take a few more deep inhales, pleased when they are steady.

Lowering my hands, I finally open my eyes to the world around me.

I startle as I peer directly into two silver irises. They stare at me with an emotional depth extremely profound, despite the hard, expressionless face they belong to.

"Gale," I breathe out in surprise. I didn't hear him approach. He is a hunter - deadly and quiet. When he is around, I can't afford to let my guard down. I should have known better. I quickly rearrange my face into its composed mask, hiding any initial shock. My smile is tight, polite to the point it hurts. "I was just going for a walk through the garden and got a little light headed. Sorry to bother you, I'll be heading back now."

I am about to turn around and leave when I hear two lone, somber words meet my ears.

"Pretty dress."

For some reason - and I haven't the slightest idea why - my eyes water and my throat tightens. Money and clothing and status mock me with their insincere security. What value have they ever brought me that could make up for the heartache I feel right now? There is no amount of money that will make this worthwhile. There is no amount of money that can save me.

Gale studies me. I don't like the way he looks at me - with eyes that see far too well. Just yesterday, he told me to stay away. But here is today, choosing to willingly speak to me.

I swallow once, thickly. "Thank you," I say politely, if a little stiffly. I run my hands self-consciously over the front of my dress. "I want to look nice for our guests."

"Seems like a lot of effort for nothing, if you ask me." I can hear the derision in his voice. "But I guess appearances are pretty important to you, aren't they?"

The reason why Gale is talking to me becomes clear to me, so obvious it is almost laughable. As much as he wants to avoid me, an emotion stronger than that keeps him from doing so.

Even in our short interactions growing up, usually while selling and buying strawberries, the few words he left me with were always sour. The longest and most eloquent of those words were always insults. As convincingly as Gale said that he doesn't care about me, he does.

You have to care to be able to hate someone.

Every insulting word and look he's ever given me is fresh in my memory. I suddenly find myself resenting Gale for how he sees me - for the hate that I feel I haven't really earned.

I decide to say something. I don't want to be the person Gale thinks that I am.

I don't want him to hate me.

"Appearances sway opinions and opinions can be very important to people." I bite the inside of my cheek, looking down. "It's better to give off a good first impression, than to have to backtrack for a second," I explain quietly.

My words don't appease him in the slightest.

"I'm sure it's nice," he cuts back immediately. I flinch at the heat in his voice. "People look at you and you make them think that you're better than you really are."

I know I can't argue with him, because there is truth to what he says.

Instead, I stand there silently, trapped under his steely gaze. I'm unsure what Gale wants me to do with this truth - what I can do. I was born into this life; he was born into his. I grew up learning how to handle politics and appearances; he grew up learning how to handle snares and a bow. I am Town and he is Seam.

When the people of District Twelve look at me, they see a wealthy and pampered girl, undeserving of her place in life. I am someone on the same level as a Capitol outsider. I represent everything bad and unjust they dislike about this world - everything that they themselves cannot have. They despise me for it - maybe rightfully so. But when the people of our District look at Gale-they see a champion of their own blood and sweat. He is a member of their community, one who represents strength and perseverance. It is clear by the poached meat he sells and the family he provides for painstakingly that he is someone who does and is good.

In many ways, these assumptions are correct. Regardless of if they are accurate or not, these assumptions form the basis of people's opinions and ideas. It is what they know - what they can see. It is easier to simplify life into what they can clearly see: us versus them. For our society to function, this is the way it has to be. We both have our roles to play.

I think about saying all of this.

I hesitate, and then shake my head.

"I have to go now," is all I end up telling him, after a moment of tense quiet. "Goodbye, Gale."

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