SONG: Voulez-Vous by Abba
It felt strange, being back in the penthouse. Like the Games had never really happened. Nothing in the penthouse had changed, but everything had changed for Iris. And yet it all felt like it could have been a bad dream.
She was finding it hard to wrap her head around all that had happened. She half expected to blink and be back in the arena, surrounded by sand and heat. It felt like only yesterday she was wandering through the canyon with Agata, eating mangoes with Kasia and Christopher, slowly dying with Scorah dead on top of her.
She didn't even have her scars left to remind her. She had the ones inside, but not the external ones she'd collected over the years. The faint pink mark on her arm from when she'd burned herself in the factory. Her scarred knuckles, from defending herself. The scars she'd picked up in the arena. The gash on her arm Taggerty had given her in the Bloodbath, the burns from the scorpions, even the scars she should have had after the final fight - her leg, her chest, her nose. But there was nothing. Everyone was pretending like nothing had happened to her, and that infuriated Iris.
But she didn't want to think about it. The boxes in her head still hadn't broken, and she feared the day they did - but for now, her defences were intact, and she had other things to think about. Like the recap, which was to take place later that evening. She wondered if she could learn how to sleep with her eyes open in the few hours before the recap. It would be hard to try while her prep team was poking and prodding her. Proserpina was piling her hair on top of her head, while Katrinia did her makeup. Julius was doing her nails, which bizarrely entailed him sticking long pieces of plastic on top of her natural nails, making them long and talon-like. Iris hoped that she wouldn't need to go to the toilet while she had them on, because they would definitely make it hard to wipe.
"Now, you won't have to do much until the banquet," Pomponia said. "So there's not much for us to go over today. At the banquet, you will meet the people who sponsored you-"
"I had sponsors?" Iris asked incredulously, shooting Haylee a look.
Proserpina grabbed her by the chin and turned her head back. "Stop moving!" she hissed. Iris ignored her.
Pomponia sighed. "Yes, you had sponsors. And I'm sure they will have many questions for Haylee as to why none of their gifts made it into the arena."
Iris crossed her arms, suddenly furious. Haylee had abandoned her. "So I didn't have to walk around dehydrated. I didn't have to drink my own piss."
"Well, you seemed to enjoy it," Haylee said. "What? You won, didn't you?" What had Haylee done to win? Iris couldn't remember ever seeing her Games reruns. No one ever talked of Haylee except to insult her.
"Yeah, no thanks to you," Iris spat. "Useless bitch."
"Alright," Pomponia interrupted. "Now is not the time. Iris, we must start getting you ready for the evening."
"If I'm just meant to sit there and watch people die again, how come I've got to wear all this shit?" She gestured to her face, eliciting another annoyed noise out of Proserpina as she moved.
"Because," Pomponia said patiently, "there will be people watching you watch the Games."
"You do realise how stupid that sounds, right?" Iris said.
Pomponia sighed. "I hope you are not going to make this difficult."
"When have I ever done that?"
"I do not wish to answer that."
/
They put her in a dark red dress for the recaps. Long and tight and padded to emphasise curves she'd never had, curves she'd lost to the arena anyway. A slit up the right side of the dress went all the way up her leg - she hated it.
She let Caesar kiss her cheek, and sat down, feeling numb from the inside out. She watched with distant eyes, as the Iris onscreen befriended Kasia and Christopher, as she experimented with the flail in training.
Right up until she joined forces with Agata, there was an even split of the footage - half the time, the screen was devoted to the Careers, and the other half, Iris and her two ill-fated allies. It was strange seeing them again. Hearing them speak. Watching them walk next to her, strong and quiet and predictable. And watching them die again.
She did not flinch when the scorpion decapitated Christopher.
She did not blink when Kasia sunk the dagger into her own heart.
Agata screamed as the scorpion sprayed her, and Iris felt nothing as she crawled away, as she watched the two of them begrudgingly agree to help each other out, and eventually become friends. The canyon loomed, and Iris let it. She fell into the scorpion trap and the audience screamed at the sight of the arachnids crawling over her skin. Iris felt not an itch.
She wondered how long it would have taken to edit the footage of the arena. Whose job had it been, to make it look like some kind of exciting movie? It was hard to believe that what was happening on the screen was real. And it was hard to believe she wasn't still there, fighting for her life at every turn.
It was interesting, though, to see what everyone else had been doing. The Careers, especially Agata, had been gunning for her from the start, right up until the scorpions changed everything. She appreciated, for the first time, just how much the event must have affected Agata, for her to completely change sides, and decide to help Iris win.
She learnt the name of the girl from Eight - Tonia - and the name of the boy from Seven - Thorn. She'd forgotten Taggerty's name, but she knew that would never happen again. The names of the people she'd murdered would always be in her head. Taggerty. Thorn. Tonia. Minerva. Scorah. She might as well add Kasia, Christopher, and Agata to the list as well, because she knew she'd had a hand in their deaths, however indirectly. They would probably not have died as they did if she had not allied with them.
Despite the trauma on screen, Iris found that if she unfocused her eyes just enough, the world became blurry and spongy. Blood could be a field of poppies. Endless sand could be a box of golden jewellery. If she allowed herself to disconnect from what she was seeing, she no longer saw it. She could still hear it, of course, but if she blocked it out just enough she could pretend she was watching anyone's Games.
Onscreen, they set up the bear traps, and the audience oohed, knowing how badly that plan went in the end. River died. Iris and Agata prepared for the Bloodbath. They did not show the aurora, or Agata kissing Iris' cheek, and she realised that they had also cut scenes of them holding hands, or being friendlier than a pampered Career and a rat from Six should be. Iris' chest ached. She felt completely out of her depth. Agata would have known what she was doing, but Iris was lost.
Malachite forced Agata's head into the bear trap, and Iris stayed stony-faced. She killed Minerva, and then Scorah killed Malachite, and then Iris killed Scorah. And then the trumpets sang, the audience roared and Caesar shook her hand and helped her to her feet.
Iris felt dazed as President Snow crossed the stage and placed the crown on her head. "Congratulations, Miss Paquin," he said, his breath sour, his face blank and unreadable.
If she blurred her eyes just right, she could pretend this was happening to someone else. "Thank you," she managed, and then he was gone and the audience was cheering again and then Pomponia was there, taking her arm gently and guiding her off the stage.
"It is over now, Iris," Pomponia said, as the sounds of the audience slowly fell away. "You do not have to think about it again."
Iris almost felt like laughing. She knew that all she was ever going to be able to do from now on was think about it. It was nowhere near over, she understood that now, and it never would be. "Okay," she said instead.
"Of course, there is still the victory interview, but that is not until tomorrow and I will help you prepare."
"Okay," Iris said again.
"If we rehearse your answers enough, and prepare for what questions Caesar might ask, you will not have to think so much. He asks the same questions, anyway, so it should not be too hard," Pomponia said. "Now. I think a quick touch-up of your makeup, and we will be ready for the banquet."
Iris had forgotten about the banquet. She hadn't eaten much at all since she had gotten out of the hospital, and after reliving her experience in the arena, she found she didn't have much of an appetite.
/
A sleek black car took them to the presidential mansion, where the grounds were crammed with people and food and noise. Iris wanted nothing more than to go back to the Penthouse and shut herself in her room. But the party was bustling with people who wanted to see her, talk to her, touch her. If one more Capitolite touched her arm or pinched her cheeks she was going to tear her skin off. Already, three people had asked her why their money had not been used, and she had given three equally unimaginative answers. How was it possible, that a week ago she was dying and now she was wearing a pretty dress and entertaining Capitolites?
After several hours of this, she was finally - finally - able to break from the crowd and make her way to the bathroom. It wasn't empty, but she pushed past the women at the sink so quickly, she was sure they hadn't had the chance to see who she was. She didn't need to go, but she locked herself in the stall anyway. Putting her head in her hands, Iris took slow, steadying breaths.
After five minutes of this, she forced herself to get up, knowing that if she stayed hiding too long, someone would come looking for her. She listened for a moment to make sure the bathroom was empty, and then unlocked the door. She made her way to the sink, grabbing onto the side of it. The face that stared back at her from the mirror looked strange. Like it wasn't hers. Like she was in someone else's body, borrowing someone else's skin. She felt sick.
The bathroom door banged open, and Iris jumped. A tall, muscular girl in a dark red pantsuit walked in, and Iris blinked to make sure what she was seeing was real. Lyme smiled at her. "You look like shit."
"Lyme Belmont," Iris said. Lyme had won two years ago, and was quite popular - Iris had seen her Games rerun several times. Lyme's year had been difficult. The Career pack fell apart only a few days in, and Lyme was left by herself to fend off mutts without a weapon.
Lyme gave her a weird look. "Uh, yeah. Do you always do that? Tell people their names when you meet them? You should know that that's an annoying habit."
"Right," Iris said. "Sorry."
"Don't be sorry. You look how I felt at my victory banquet." Lyme stepped towards the sink and leaned in, picking at her false eyelashes. "Like you'll jump out of your skin if one more freak touches you."
Despite the fact that she was in an enclosed space with a Career, Iris didn't feel as panicked as she perhaps should be. "Yeah," she admitted. "That's pretty much how I feel."
"Well, there's still hours left of this thing, so you'd better pull yourself together," said Lyme. "It's easier if you're drunk." She reached into her suit pocket and pulled out a shiny silver flask. She took a swig before passing it to Iris. "Here."
Iris took it. She'd never drank before, but she took a sip anyway, pulling a face at the strong taste. "Ew," she spluttered.
"What, you've never had whiskey before? That there is straight from District Nine. Brandy makes it in her spare time. Brandy's whiskey," Lyme said, chuckling at her own joke. "You'd think, with a name like brandy, she'd make, you know, brandy. But she just had to go against the grain, I guess, if you'll pardon the pun."
Iris vaguely remembered Brandy from District Nine, who had won sometime in the thirties. Perhaps she had been Kasia's mentor. Iris took another sip. "Good for her."
"Sure," Lyme said. "Good for her."
"Why are you even talking to me?" Iris asked. "I killed Minerva."
Lyme shrugged. "It's a rule between the Victors, basically. We don't hold the arena against each other."
"So you don't care? That she was so close to winning and I slit her throat?" Iris took another, larger sip. The whiskey didn't taste as bad now.
"I care," Lyme said, "but you won fair and square. Minerva should have been watching her own back. It's not your fault she was stupid enough not to."
She reached out for the flask and Iris handed it to her. "But it is my fault that she's dead."
Lyme rolled her eyes. "Look. If you ever want to get over the arena, you've got to stop holding onto what you did in there. You're not helping anyone by holding on. The people you killed don't stop being dead. You're just torturing yourself."
Iris scoffed. "So you're completely over it, then?" She snatched the flask back from Lyme. It was nearly empty.
"Course not," Lyme said. "I never will be. Neither will you. But it hurts less, if you give it some time." She took the flask back from Iris and drained it, grinning. "Until then, alcohol really helps."
"Well," Iris said, "we'd better go get some more then."
Lyme laughed. "I'm glad you won. You're way more fun than Blight."
"What's wrong with Blight?"
"What's not wrong with Blight?" Lyme said good-naturedly. "I guess he's no more fucked up than the rest of us. He's not much of a drinking buddy, anyway. Lightweight."
"I've never drank before," Iris said. Her head felt a bit floaty - it was weird. She wasn't sure if she liked the feeling or not.
"Aw," said Lyme, patting her arm mock-sympathetically. "Don't worry, I'll train you up." She looped her arm through Iris'. "Shall we face the vultures?"
"As long as you show me where the drinks are.".
Lyme laughed again. "I will. After a few, this might actually start to feel like a party."
For the rest of the night, Iris went around with Lyme. It felt easier, talking to the Capitolites with Lyme there too, because that way not all of the attention was on her. Several of the more recent Victors were milling about - Douglas from District Four and Haymitch were sitting at a table in the corner of the dining area, apparently seeing who could drink the most without passing out. Haymitch, predictably, was winning. Blight from Seven looked on silently, his eyes far away, swirling the amber liquid in his glass around and around.
Brutus was showing off for several awe-inspired Capitolites, a much older woman hanging off his arm. Tallulah from Four was in a similar boat, smiling serenely while several Capitol men competed for her attention. Iris wondered if her life would look like this from now on. Would she drink herself into oblivion, like Haymitch and Douglas and Chaff? Would she emotionally check out, like Wiress and Blight? Would she use sex as a distraction, like Tallulah and Brutus? Or would her vice be something else entirely?
Lyme handed her a flute of champagne. "Here," she said, taking one for herself. "Apparently this is meant to be the best champagne in the Capitol, but it all tastes the same to me." She tossed the drink back in one go, and set the empty glass down on a tray.
Iris took a sip, bubbles floating down her throat. It wasn't an unpleasant taste - slightly sweet. "I like it better than whiskey, I think."
"That's what I said at first. But after you drink this for a while it won't get you drunk anymore, and then what's the point of it?"
Iris opened her mouth to respond, but a Capitol man appeared next to Lyme. Iris hadn't even seen him approach. He was on the shorter side, and had bright yellow hair in a ponytail down his back. "Lyme, darling, how are you?" He took Lyme's hands and kissed both her cheeks.
Lyme smiled - Iris hadn't known her for long, but even she could tell that the smile was strained. "Lucan. How nice to see you." She snatched another glass of wine from a tray floating past, carried by an Avox. "Allow me to introduce you to -"
"Iris Paquin," Lucan breathed. Lyme was right. It was annoying, having people tell her what her name was. "How wonderful to meet you at last." He took Iris' hand and kissed it.
Iris attempted a smile. "Nice to meet you, too."
"I was one of your sponsors," Lucan said, "but you never received any of my gifts."
Iris tried not to roll her eyes. She'd never hated Haylee more. "No, unfortunately. Haylee thought I didn't need help."
Lucan made an annoyed noise. "Haylee. Say no more, dear. I was quite close to her, after her victory. Such a sad path she went down."
Iris assumed that he was talking about Haylee's alcohol abuse, which reminded her that she still had champagne. She drank the rest of what was in her glass. Lyme reached out silently, taking the glass from her and replacing it with another. "I guess."
"Well, that's alright, I suppose. It was not wasted on you, my dear," he said, picking up her hand.
His skin was clammy, and Iris resisted the urge to pull away. "Thank you," she said. She wondered what he had meant, that he was close to Haylee. Haylee wasn't close to anyone, and certainly not a skeezy Capitol guy with piss-coloured hair.
He smiled at her with too-white teeth. "The pleasure was all mine, Iris. All mine." He kissed her hand once more, and she resisted the urge to wipe it on her dress. "So nice to see you showing our newest Victor around, Lyme. How refreshing, to see the two of you together." Lucan licked his lips, staring at the both of them. Lyme discreetly took a step away from Iris, which didn't escape Iris' attention.
"Excellent to see you again, Lucan," Lyme said, her smile too wide to be genuine. "I must get back to showing Iris around, she has many people to meet."
"Of course she does," said Lucan. "My apologies for taking your attention away from your party, Iris."
"Don't worry about it," Iris said. Her glass was nearly empty. She was glad Lyme had dropped a hint for him to leave - she didn't think she could spend another second talking to Capitolites without a full glass in her hand.
He smiled at her again. Iris noticed that for some reason, his face hardly moved when he smiled - it was like his skin was stretched so tight over his skull, it didn't have any elasticity left. "I hope to see you again soon. Perhaps on your Victory Tour."
"Yeah," Iris said. "See you then."
After planting one more kiss on each of their cheeks, Lucan finally left them alone. Lyme made a disgusted noise and wiped her cheek on her sleeve. "Ugh."
"What was that about?" Iris wasn't sure why her skin was crawling. She felt as if she had missed something in that interaction. Why was Lucan acting like he and Lyme were friends? Why did Lyme move away from her?
Lyme gave her a sympathetic look. "Has Haylee told you about your responsibilities as a Victor yet?"
"What responsibilities?" She wasn't aware of any responsibilities besides mentoring.
Lyme sighed, and grabbed another glass of champagne. "Do yourself a favour, and ask Haylee about it later."
Iris drained the rest of her champagne. It churned in her stomach. "Okay," she agreed. "Got any more whiskey?"
"I'm sure Haymitch does," Lyme said, taking her elbow.
Lyme led her over to the table in the corner. Douglas looked up at them. "Lyme!" he said happily, slurring his words. "You're here."
"I am," Lyme agreed. "Everyone, this is Iris, but I'm sure you knew that already."
"Hello, Iris," Blight said pleasantly, looking up at her. He held out a hand, and Iris shook it.
It was strange seeing Blight in the flesh - he had won last year. She had forgotten about him like the rest of Panem, and was just as surprised as the rest of the country when he came out of nowhere wielding his axes. He seemed like a different person to that starved, scared boy he had been last year. "Nice to meet you," she said.
"Sit down, fresh meat!" Douglas said, gesturing to an empty chair next to Haymitch. Iris sat, and Lyme took the seat next to her. "How do you feel?"
Iris looked at him. Douglas had won the year before Lyme. "I feel like I want some of that whiskey," she said, and pointed to the half-empty bottle Haymitch was holding.
Haymitch grinned. "Then let's get you some of that fuckin' whiskey." It was the first time she'd heard him speak. His accent surprised her - she wondered if everyone in Twelve talked like that. It was similar to Christopher's accent, but slower. "How d'you like it?"
Iris shrugged. "Out of a flask?"
Lyme started to laugh. "This is her first time drinking."
"You're doing better than I did," Douglas said. "I threw up all over myself at my banquet." He was looking like he was about to throw up at her banquet, too. "You feel like you're going to throw up?"
Iris shrugged. Her stomach felt weird, but not sick weird. Just different weird. "Not yet."
"Well, shit, that's no good," said Haymitch. He was very handsome, even with the dark shadows under his eyes and his unwashed hair. "You'd better have the bottle then."
"Okay," Lyme said. "Let's not give the girl alcohol poisoning. How do you feel, Iris?"
Haymitch passed Iris the bottle, and she took a gulp. It didn't burn like it did on her first sip - it made her throat feel pleasantly warm. "I'm liking it so far."
"That's the way," Douglas said, raising his glass.
Iris wondered if this was what they did during the Games, after their tributes died. The fact that she would now have to be a mentor hadn't even occurred to her. She was determined to do a better job than Haylee. Maybe things would finally change for District Six.
"So," Blight said. "Ready for the interview tomorrow?"
Iris shrugged. "Probably not. Dunno what Caesar's going to ask me." She took another large swallow of whiskey. She didn't want to think about the interview. She was terrified of saying the wrong thing and getting Jordie killed.
"Oh, you don't have to worry about that," said Douglas. "He asks the same questions every year. Just disguises them a bit so it feels different."
"What are the questions?" Iris asked. Talking felt weird. Her tongue was too heavy.
"Well," said Lyme. "Usually, how'd you feel when this happened? What was going through your head when this happened? Do you think your district is proud of you? Shit like that."
"Just lie a little bit and it'll be fine," Douglas agreed. "They can't tell the difference."
Iris nodded, and started to look around. All of the most recent Victors seemed to be here, but a few were missing. "Where's Wiress?"
They all exchanged glances. Haymitch cleared his throat. "She's not feeling well. She didn't come this year."
"What's wrong with her?" Iris asked.
Lyme scowled, and looked down at the table. "Same thing that's wrong with all of us."
"She's just having a bad year," Blight said. "Beetee and Calcula came alone this year."
"You wanted to meet her?" Douglas asked curiously. "People usually aren't so interested in Wiress."
Iris shrugged. She hadn't thought about it a lot, but Wiress had always been one of the victors of recent that stood out to her. Maybe because she won her Games - the 48th - so differently to all the other Games Iris remembered. "I liked her traps. She's clever." Iris took another large gulp. The bottle was feeling much lighter than when she'd received it.
"She's a genius," said Lyme fondly. "You'll get to meet her on your tour, I'm sure."
"Her parents died recently," said Haymitch gruffly, staring into his glass.
"How?" Iris asked. Her eyes felt grainy, like there was sand in them.
"You'll have to ask Wiress when you meet her," Haymitch said. "Ain't for us to tell."
"Okay," Iris said. That sounded fair to her. Iris rubbed her eyes. She felt so tired. Like she was going to fall asleep right there at the table. She wasn't sure how being drunk was supposed to feel, but she definitely wasn't feeling normal. She passed the whiskey back to Haymitch. "Think I've had enough of this."
He took it with a nod, and took a swig before offering it to Lyme, who shook her head. "I've had enough too."
"Saw you talking to Lucan," Douglas said. "What did he want?"
"Oh, the usual. Hopeless twit," she spat. She looked at Iris again, and Iris wondered if she was going to get an explanation of that frankly bizarre conversation they'd had with Lucan. "Seemed pretty interested in poor Iris here."
"Who was he?" she asked. Her head had been nice and floaty before, but it was beginning to feel like the room was spinning.
The other Victors exchanged glances. "Retired Gamemaker. A rich one at that," said Douglas. Lyme elbowed him, and he rubbed his arm. "What was that for?!"
"She doesn't know yet," Lyme hissed.
"Doesn't know what yet?" Iris asked. Her stomach hurt.
Haymitch shook his head. "Look, Paquin, I'm sure you'll find out. But you don't want to find out here."
Iris was feeling frustrated. She trusted these people - people she had just met, which was bizarre - but she hated being out of the loop. She wanted to be in on this big secret they all seemed to share. "Whatever," she said, crossing her arms. "I changed my mind. Gimme the whiskey."
Haymitch shook his head and put the bottle on the other side of the table, out of her reach. "Think you've had enough."
Privately, Iris agreed. But the whiskey had made her feel something apart from the numb she'd felt ever since she got out of the arena. "Just a little sip."
Lyme shook her head. "Come with me, Iris," she said, getting to her feet and gently taking Iris' arm. "Can you walk me to the bathroom?"
"Sure," Iris said. She liked Lyme. She hoped they would be friends. She liked Haymitch, too, and Douglas, and Blight. "I love you guys." Had she said that out loud?
Haymitch shook his head. "Get that girl some water, Lyme."
Lyme looped her arm around Iris' waist. Iris leaned into her side. She was so strong. And she was even taller than Iris. Usually Iris was the tall one. It was a nice change. "I forgot this was your first time drinking," Lyme said. Several Capitolites tried to approach, but Lyme ignored them all. She pushed the bathroom door open and helped Iris through.
"Not the last," Iris slurred, leaning against the sink. She felt sick. But she liked it. She liked how her head felt far away, like it was floating.
Lyme laughed. "Yeah, I'm sure you're right about that." She turned on the tap and cupped her hands underneath it. She raised her hands to Iris' mouth. "Drink."
Iris did as she was told. She hadn't realised how thirsty she was. She hated being thirsty. "I feel sick."
"Are you going to throw up?" Lyme asked.
Iris took a deep breath. "No," she said, after thinking about it for a moment.
"Alright. Let's get you out of here, then."
Iris stepped away from the sink, feeling unsteady on her feet. Lyme put an arm around Iris' waist again. "Gotta find Pomponia. She'll be worried."
Lyme grunted her agreement. "Alright then. Let's find Pomponia."
They didn't have to look far. Pomponia must have seen them go into the bathroom, because she descended on them when they walked out the door. "Iris! I have been looking for you everywhere!"
Iris laughed. "Sorry!"
Pomponia looked her up and down, crossing her arms over her chest. "Are you drunk?"
"Just a lil bit."
"How much did she drink?" Pomponia asked, looking at Lyme.
Lyme shrugged. "Wasn't keeping track. Bit of whiskey, bit of champagne -"
"And then some more whiskey," Iris interrupted.
Pomponia sighed. "You've hardly eaten anything, you silly girl. I'm sure it has gone straight to your head."
"Yeah," said Iris. She wanted to lie down, and then she wanted a snack. "Can we leave yet?"
Pomponia looked at her watch. "Yes, I suppose you have been here long enough."
"How long do these parties usually go for?" Iris asked. She had decided that she hated parties.
"Parties in the Capitol never really end," Lyme said disdainfully. She shot Pomponia a look. "Isn't that right?"
"On occasion. But I believe Iris has had enough. And she has met everyone she needs to meet."
"Do you need help getting her back to the training centre? I'm going back now, too."
Iris frowned. "I can walk. I'm not a baby."
"No, you're not," Lyme agreed, "but you are drunk. Let me help you."
Iris thought about arguing, but her legs felt gooey, and she really did like Lyme. She wasn't what Iris had expected, for a victor from Two. "Okay," she said.
Pomponia and Lyme helped her outside the gardens, where the same black car they had arrived in was waiting. SHe leaned heavily against Lyme as they walked over to it. She felt sturdy and dependable. "What are you going to do for your talent?" Lyme asked.
"My what?" Iris asked. Pomponia opened the car door and helped Iris climb in.
"Your talent," Lyme replied, climbing in next to her. "You know. Every victor has a talent they show off on their victory tour. What'll yours be?"
"I wanna paint," said Iris, "but I dunno how." She remembered drawing in the sand in the arena, disguising her and Agata's faces with the camouflage paint. How it had made her feel like she was in kindergarten again, finger painting.
"Well," said Lyme. "You've got a few months to learn."
Iris hiccuped. Painting would be nice. She'd always liked colourful things. Maybe she could cover her new house in paintings. "What's your talent?"
"Chess. I play it and I make sets out of stone."
"What's chess?"
"It's an ancient board game. Strategy. My grandfather taught me how to play when I was a kid."
"What's District Two like?" Iris asked. She rested her head on Lyme's shoulder - she was so, so tired.
Lyme shrugged. "Home, I guess. Sometimes it's shit. But I like it. I'll show you around when you visit on your victory tour."
"I'd like that," Iris said.
The cars pulled up outside the training centre, where many reporters with cameras were waiting. "Lean on me. Pretend you're not drunk."
Iris did as she was told. Lyme supported her from one side, and Pomponia from the other, and she kept her head down and focused on walking in a straight line, which was harder than it probably should have been. Lyme shoved through the crowd, unphased by the blinking cameras, and ushered them both through the main doors.
"They have absolutely no manners," Pomponia lamented. "I have been saying for years that there needs to be some sort of restriction on how many paparazzi are allowed to wait outside."
"Pepperoni," Iris said. What was a paparazzi? Lyme and Pomponia hauled her into the elevator.
"Yeah, pepperoni," Lyme agreed, pressing the buttons on the elevator. There was a big red one that Iris wanted to push. What would it do?
The elevator dinged, and Pomponia and Lyme helped Iris through the penthouse's front door and onto the couch. "Thank you for your help, Ms Belmont," Pomponia said gratefully.
"Oh," Lyme said. "No problem. Bye, Iris, it was nice to meet you. Drink some water."
Iris wanted Lyme to stay, but she was feeling very tired. "See you on the tour?" she said hopefully.
"Yeah. I'll teach you how to hold your drink better," Lyme said, with a laugh. "Goodnight."
And with that, Lyme left. Iris leaned her head onto the back of the sofa. "I like Lyme," she said into the cushions.
Pomponia brushed Iris' hair out of her mouth. "She is a lovely girl. Would you like something to eat?"
"Chocolate cake," Iris said.
"Then chocolate cake you shall have," Pomponia said. "I will be back." Iris watched Pomponia leave.
She'd had a better time at the banquet than she thought she would. It had been nice, meeting Lyme, and she liked the other victors. They seemed to truly understand and sympathise with how she was feeling - in a way that Pomponia couldn't, even though she tried her best.
The doors opened, and Haylee stumbled in, a bottle of wine still clasped in her hand. "Evenin', she slurred, dropping onto the sofa beside Iris.
Seeing her reminded Iris of what Lyme told her. To ask Haylee about her responsibilities. "Haylee."
"Wha?" Haylee slurred, looking at her with unfocused eyes.
"The other victors were talkin' bout… responsibilities," Iris said. She was finding it hard to get her words all the way out of her mouth. "What do I have to do?"
Haylee laughed, and took a large gulp of wine. "You gotta fuck the Capitol."
Iris' stomach dropped. "What?"
"You gotta fuck em'! Snow's a pimp, we gotta fuck the Capitols for money." Haylee burped, and slumped forwards, resting her head on her knees. She handed the bottle to Iris. "Sucks, kid. Drink up."
Iris really did feel like she was going to be sick. The whole thing wasn't entirely surprising… but she was too drunk and too exhausted to process it properly. So she did what any self-respecting Victor would have done, and drank the rest of Haylee's wine before Pomponia came back to stop her.