Song: New Person, Same Old Mistakes by Tame Impala

After a restless night of sleep, Iris woke up early. No-one else seemed to be up yet – the sun had only just started to peek over the horizon. Pomponia would be up soon, though – she seemed to have some sort of mission to get everyone out of bed before six. Although she would much rather have had a few more hours of sleep, it was nice having the penthouse to herself. The kitchen was quiet, and Iris could enjoy a mug of hot chocolate the size of her head without Pomponia lecturing her about pimples.

Iris felt somewhat better about her training score compared to yesterday – she might not have been as impressive as intended with her score, but she still had the interview tomorrow. Her final chance of making an impact. Her last shot at getting the Capitolians to look at her. Hopefully her outfit wouldn't be as horrendous as what Ulysses had dressed her in for the parade.

She imagined standing in front of Caesar Flickerman in that horrible train costume from the parade, titty lights blinking, and shuddered. She couldn't think of a better way to guarantee that no-one would sponsor her.

There was a noise behind her, and Iris turned around. She already had a full face of makeup on and her hair done. Iris wondered whether Pomponia woke up so early just so she could make sure no-one saw her without her makeup. Pomponia smiled at her, and joined her at the kitchen counter. "Ah. Good. You are awake. How did you sleep?"

"Didn't really sleep," Iris replied, her mouth full of blueberry muffin.

Pomponia gave her a disapproving look but didn't tell her off for talking with her mouth full. "Well, you will sleep extra good tonight then. Just in time for the interview."

"I guess," Iris mumbled.

"Do not mumble. You can't do that tomorrow." Pomponia looked her up and down and sighed. "We have a lot of work to do. We will start preparing as soon as you are done eating."

"Aren't you gonna eat?" Iris asked. She realised that she'd only ever seen Pomponia eat at dinnertime, though that was perhaps because she was never awake to see the escort eat breakfast.

Pomponia shook her head. "I am on a diet in which I can only eat after 5pm."

"Why do you need a diet?" The idea of willingly not eating when one had unlimited access to food was ludicrous to Iris. She could hardly comprehend having the choice to not eat – in Six she was lucky to scrounge up one meal a day.

Pomponia gave her a look that suggested the answer should be obvious. "To keep my figure."

"Can't you just get surgery or something?" Iris asked. "Isn't that what all the other escorts do?"

"Bah!" Pomponia tutted. She didn't deny it, to Iris' amusement. She stood up from where she was sitting, and crossed the kitchen to type something into the food panel. Iris still had trouble believing that Capitolians only needed to type in what they wanted and it would be sent to them before they could blink. The panel beeped, and Pomponia picked up a mug of tea. "I have the self-control needed to preserve my figure all by myself. Surgery is for those who are too lazy to improve themselves."

Iris didn't want to continue this conversation any further – she didn't want to lose respect for the only decent Capitolian she had encountered thus far. Her prep team consisted of three frivolous idiots, and Ulysses – wait. Maybe, Iris thought, maybe Pomponia would have some say over what she wore at the interview. "Pomponia," Iris said.

"Hm?" said the escort, looking up from her peppermint tea.

"Is Ulysses going to make me look stupid again? I can't be sent out on stage dressed like a train again."

"I will not let that happen. Besides, the chariot outfits are always flamboyant – for better or for worse, it is up to the stylist. But there is a dress code for the interview clothing, and that is that the outfit must be formal and must not be an advertisement for the district. It can hint to one's place of origin – green for District Seven, blue for District Four, etcetera – but it cannot be as in your face as the chariot outfits are."

Iris let out a sigh of relief. "So I'm not gonna look like a train." Maybe she would have a chance after all.

"No. And although Ulysses may sometimes be a buffoon," Pomponia admitted, "he is a talented designer who is well aware of the rules."

Somewhat reassured that she wouldn't have to wear the nipple lights again, Iris returned to her breakfast.

/

"No, Iris, you must enunciate. I cannot have you mumbling onstage. Not only will I be a laughingstock, you will be a laughingstock! No-one will sponsor you if they do not know what you are saying."

"I'm not mumbling," Iris snapped. "I just don't talk posh like you Capitols."

Pomponia sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. "See, there. That is another thing. You cannot address your Capitol audience with such disdain. They are going to think that you hate them."

"I do hate them," Iris said sulkily.

"Not anymore, you don't," the escort said, pursing her lips. "You need to have them on your side. If the audience does not want you to win, you will not win. End of story."

Although Iris knew this was true, she still wanted to throw up at the thought of pandering to the Capitol's sense of superiority. "I don't know how to act like I respect them."

"Well, you do not have to act like that around me, do you?"

Iris remained stubbornly silent, not wanting to admit that Pomponia was right. She had tried so hard to hate the woman, but when she was the only person even trying to help Iris, it was hard to hold much against her.

Pomponia sighed, and reached out to cup Iris' cheek in her manicured hand. "Iris, if I am to help you, you must be open to receiving help," she said gently. "And I want to help you."

The gentle touch had reminded Iris so much of her mother, and she turned away so that Pomponia wouldn't see the tears gathering in her eyes. Pomponia and her mother were dramatically different in both personality and upbringing, and yet they mirrored each other in an eerie way. Iris knew that her mother would want her to accept Pomponia's help. Iris took a deep breath and forced down her frustration, before turning back to Pomponia. "Fine."

Pomponia gave her a brief smile, before her face fell back into its determined, unwavering expression. "Now. Let me ask you again. What is your favourite thing about the Capitol?"

Iris forced a grin onto her face. "Oh, everything! The people, the energy, the fashion, the food. It's wonderful!" She cringed, knowing she sounded exactly like a fake, snobby District One tribute.

Pomponia pulled a face. "That was not believable in the slightest. Try again."

"The Capitol has so many great qualities, how can I pick only one?"

"Better, but still forced," the escort said, bobbing her head. "No sarcasm. Work on your tone, and stop slouching, for the love of Snow!"

Iris straightened her shoulders and sat as naturally as she could. "I don't know how to pick only one good thing, Caesar."

"That was good! You were not overenthusiastic; you were not too sullen. Perfect. This is the tone of voice you must address the audience with."

Iris frowned. "But not Caesar?" She didn't know how she was going to remember all this. How to sit, how to stand, how to walk. How to arrange her hands. The way she had to talk, the words she had to use, the type of smile she needed to show. Before today, a smile had been a smile to Iris, and she was exhausted trying to keep up with the barrage of information being thrown at her.

Clueless to this, Pomponia shook her head. "No. It is important that you talk to Caesar as you would anyone else. You must change your tone depending on the topic and the question. You do not want to speak in an exclusively happy tone," she said, smiling widely before dropping her face and voice, "or an exclusively sad tone."

Iris let out a frustrated noise and dropped her head into her hands. "This is too much, Pomponia. How am I supposed to remember all this?"

Pomponia paused, and walked around Iris, as if she was looking for any flaw in the way she was standing, or dressed, or… Iris didn't know what Pomponia looked for. No matter what she did, something was always wrong. "Well, your posture is already better, and I do not think that you are doing it consciously," Pomponia said, adjusting Iris' shoulders to be straighter, before giving a satisfied nod. "It is all just practice, my dear."

"Well why didn't we start practicing weeks ago?"

"We did. Do you think that my nitpicking about your manners was just for my own comfort?"

"Kinda," mumbled Iris. Pomponia raised an eyebrow at her mumbling. "Kinda," she said again, clearer this time.

Pomponia smiled at her. "Well, it was not. It was an attempt to get you to be more conscious of how you held and presented yourself, and your manners and posture are already better than they were a week ago. The only thing you need to remember is how to address the audience versus how to address Caesar. The little things, though little, are big when you put them together."

Iris took a deep breath. Somehow, that had made her feel better. "Okay."

"Feeling better?" Pomponia asked sympathetically.

"Yeah."

Pomponia sighed quietly. "I know it is overwhelming. I cannot pretend to fully understand the turmoil you are going through right now, but I do promise that I am here to help you."

"You're not helping Axel."

Pomponia sighed again, and took a seat next to Iris on the couch. "Iris, you and I both know that your district partner is not going to make it through the first day." She patted Iris' hand gently. "You are the one with a chance of winning. And so I must focus on you. It would be a waste of my time and Axel's if I tried to save him."

"You know, I underestimated you," Iris said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah. I thought you were a shallow airhead like the rest of the Capitol. But you're not so bad."

Pomponia smiled. "Thank you, Iris." They sat there for a moment, hand in hand. Iris thought that feeling calm just days before the beginning of the Games was wrong. But she hadn't felt this level of comfort around another person since her mother died. Pomponia clapped her hands together, jarring Iris out of her thoughts. "Alright. Back to the questions. We have much to go through before tomorrow."

Iris groaned inwardly, exhausted from the day's efforts, but didn't complain. She knew that Pomponia was helping her – a revelation that the version of herself a month ago would have been horrified to learn. "Pomponia, enough questions. I don't know what my angle should be."

"Well, that is easy, Iris. You are tough. Independent. Be the girl who arrived at the reaping in handcuffs, the girl who volunteered, the girl who punched her district partner. The audience already knows that you have a fighting spirit, and they want to see more of that."

Iris frowned. "Okay, so… act like a career?"

"No. That would not be believable. Act like… a capable underdog."

A capable underdog? "What does that even mean?"

"You… alright." Pomponia sighed, and scrunched up her nose, which Iris had noticed she did when she was thinking. "You volunteered because you were about to go to prison because you beat somebody up."

"No, it was because – "

"I know," Pomponia interrupted, "but the audience does not need to know the real reason. This is your only opportunity to shape your story for yourself. It does not have to be the truth."

"Okay," Iris said slowly, starting to see where Pomponia was coming from. Her mind began to whir.

"So," Pomponia said, arching her eyebrows. "You were arrested the day before the reaping because you beat someone up."

Iris nodded, starting to understand where Pomponia was going with her angle. "And that person was very important… if I stayed, they would have gotten revenge."

"Excellent!"

"And so I volunteered so I could escape."

"Do not use the word escape. It makes you appear weak."

"Alright… I volunteered to… to entertain the Capitol and return home victorious and – "

"Untouchable!"

"Yes."

"Can you do that?"

"Yes," Iris said. "I can do that."

For the first time all day, she felt somewhat confident in her abilities. Maybe, just maybe, she would do well tomorrow. If she was able to convince even one person to sponsor her, she would be happy.