SONG: Paranoid Android by Radiohead

Iris woke the next day with a pounding headache and a pit of sorrow in her stomach. After Haylee had told her about the prostitution, she had drunk the rest of Haylee's half-empty bottle of wine, eaten a whole slice of chocolate cake, and thrown up all over the sofa. Things got hazy after that, but she vaguely remembered Pomponia taking off her makeup and helping her into bed.

The idea of being pimped out by Snow made her feel sick. She' suspected that the victors' big secret had been something terrible, but she hadn't expected it to be sex slavery. It wasn't quite a surprise. Perhaps Brutus and Tallulah hadn't been enjoying the attention they received at the banquet, after all. Perhaps that was why Lyme seemed so disgusted by Lucan. Perhaps Lucan had bought her. Poor Lyme.

Iris groaned, feeling sick. She hauled herself out of bed and made her way to the bathroom. After a thirty minute shower, she felt infinitely better. She pulled on some clothes and made her way out to get breakfast.

Pomponia was already sitting at the table, sipping on a mug of steaming tea. "How are you feeling?"

Iris shrugged. "Could be better. Could be worse." She sat across from Pomponia and began buttering a piece of toast. "Did you know? About my new duties?"

"Yes. I am sorry you had to find out like that," Pomponia said sincerely. "I had planned to tell you after the interview, and before your meeting with the President."

Iris still felt sick at the very idea of meeting him. Being stuck in a room with him. Not being able to escape his piercing gaze. When he had looked at her yesterday, during the crowning, she felt as though he could see through her. Like he knew everything about her as soon as he laid eyes on her. "Does he have a meeting with every victor?"

"If it is necessary, yes."

Iris had a feeling that she already knew why it was necessary, with her. She had known that she would not escape unpunished for her actions before the arena. Of course, the arena had been more than enough punishment, in her opinion, but of course Snow didn't see it the same way. "Right."

She wondered what he would do to her. He wouldn't kill her - why let her leave the arena alive, if he was going to kill her anyway? Would he reap Jordie? Kill Jordie? Make her sleep with Capitolites until she could no longer walk?

"Shall we start discussing the interview?"

"I have a question for you first."

"Yes?"

"Why did you want to be an escort?" Iris met Pomponia's eyes and took a bite of toast. It was something she'd been wondering about for awhile. She couldn't imagine why a good person like Pomponia would want to be involved in the Games. And yet, here she was.

Pomponia breathed out slowly. "I didn't, not at first. But as a child, I was infatuated with the Games. I wanted to be a Career."

Iris nearly spat out her toast. She wasn't sure what she was expecting Pomponia to say, but it hadn't been that. "Seriously?" she asked.

Pomponia didn't tell her off for speaking with her mouth full. Her eyes looked far away. "Yes. But of course, as a child, I did not realise what that entailed. My parents did not allow me to watch the gory parts of the Games, only the glory that came after the Victor was crowned. I didn't know what the tributes actually had to do until I was twelve. And, of course, I was not born in the districts, but that did not occur to me either."

"That must have been a nasty realisation."

"Yes. After that, my view on the Games changed. I was still interested, and I wanted to be a part of them somehow… I believed I would be able to help people. And so I studied, and I received my degree, and with some hard work I became an escort." Pomponia sighed sadly. "I did not help as many people as I thought I would."

"You helped me," Iris said. "You helped Axel. I'm sure you've helped lots of tributes over the years."

"You are the first one I have brought back."

Iris shrugged. "That's on Haylee. You've already done more than your job. Give yourself a break." Iris had felt extra disgusted with Haylee lately, since she knew exactly how little work Haylee had put in to keep her alive. She felt as abandoned by Haylee as she did by her dad.

"Thank you, dear," Pomponia said. "Now, shall we discuss the interview?"

Iris sighed. She wasn't feeling any less anxious about it. "Yeah. I don't want to say the wrong thing."

"You won't," Pomponia said. "We will go over some likely questions and how you should respond. If you just keep to what we rehearse, you will be fine."

Iris wasn't sure if she believed her.

/

Despite himself, Ulysses seemed somewhat happy to see her. She hadn't seen him since the launch room - only her prep team had been there to get her ready yesterday. The interview, evidently, had more importance and required Ulysses' presence.

"I was certain you would die," he said. "It is lucky that you didn't, because this dress would have been far too large for any other victor."

Iris rolled her eyes. "Wow," she said sarcastically, aware Ulysses would think she was being genuine, "thanks."

"You are most welcome. It would not do for the preps to fasten this garment incorrectly. It requires an expert's hand."

The garment in question was hardly more than a square of purple fabric with ribbons trailing off it. Ulysses attached the main square to the front of her body and wrapped the ribbons around the back, so that everything that needed to be concealed was covered. At least her ass wasn't hanging out.

Iris frowned. "How am I meant to move around in this thing?" She felt like the second she leaned over or moved too quickly, the flimsy ribbons would come untied and she'd be left nude.

"You are not meant to move around," Ulysses said. "You will be sitting down, or did you forget?"

She rolled her eyes. "I think I liked yesterday's dress better."

"Pah!" Ulysses scoffed. "Yesterday's dress was simple, boring. Today you will be a piece of art." She wondered why Ulysses had picked yesterday's dress if he thought it was boring. Maybe it was some sort of rule, a dress code for the banquet, just like the dress code for the tribute interviews.

"Well, I wish your art was a bit more traditional." Iris knew that if he had tried to put her in something like this before the arena, she would have been mortified. But being televised for weeks with no privacy was enough to kill off most of her modesty.

The prep team curled her hair so that it hung elegantly down her back. Her makeup was gaudy, with bright purple eyeshadow and equally-purple lipstick. She was sure she resembled some kind of aubergine clown.

Pomponia, apparently, was not a fan of her outfit either. She was in a dress the same shade of purple as Iris', but hers, at least, covered her body. "Ulysses, you have outdone yourself this time," she said drily, looking Iris up and down.

Ulysses sniffed. "Naturally. The other stylists can only dream of having my talent."

"You're talking about nightmares, right?" Iris muttered, but he didn't seem to hear her. When Ulysses left the room, she pulled a face at Pomponia. "Do I have firing power now? Because he's fired."

"He will most likely be transferred to another district next year anyway."

"Thank fuck. I've dealt with him for long enough." Iris picked at one of the ribbons. "Why can't he have put me in a pantsuit like the one I wore before the Games? I really liked that. It's much better than whatever this is."

Haylee entered the room and started laughing. "What the fuck are you wearing?"

"Ask Ulysses," Iris grumbled. "He's a fucking idiot."

"He's put me in purple too, but I guess the fabric budget was already used up when he got to you." Haylee was wearing a purple dress like Pomponia, but the colour was where the similarities ended. Haylee's dress was long and unflattering - apparently the Capitol did not care to see her body anymore.

"I guess so," Iris said. "I'm officially firing him."

"Trust me, the next one won't be any better," Haylee said. "They've all been idiots."

Haylee didn't seem to remember what she had drunkenly told Iris last night. But Iris did. Going onstage wearing whatever the fuck this dress was meant to be would only make everything worse. She thought of Lucan, and how he had looked at her and Lyme, and shuddered. There would surely be more like him after she went onstage hardly dressed, even if she wasn't as pretty as some of the other Victors.

Iris looked at Pomponia pleadingly, suddenly feeling sick again. "Do I really have to wear this?"

Pomponia sighed. "Unfortunately, yes. As awful as it is, Ulysses has the final say on all Victor's garments."

"Downright fucking unfortunate."

"Indeed," Pomponia agreed. She sighed again. "We are going to be late."

/

It felt strange, being backstage again. Of course, she had been here yesterday, but it had been so rushed then that she hadn't had time for it all to sink in. But now she couldn't help but think about the first time she had been there. Axel at her side, finally sober. Agata, gorgeous and deadly. Kasia, beautiful and confident. Christopher, charming and handsome. She wished, for the umpteenth time, that anyone else but her had won. Agata would not have looked stupid in Ulysses' ribbon dress - she would have held herself confidently, instead of slouching like Iris.

Caesar did not seem put off by her dress when he met with her backstage. After all, plenty of Victors wore less at their interviews. Tallulah had worn little more than knotted scraps of fishing net over her private parts. At least Iris had a bit more fabric to her name.

"Looking fabulous, Iris," Caesar said warmly, shaking her hand. "How are you feeling about the interview?" He seemed unperturbed by the chaos backstage. People were running all over the place.

Iris shrugged. "Fine. I guess the stakes are a little less high this time around." Although, that wasn't necessarily true. Of course, she no longer had to worry about annoying the Careers or scaring away sponsors, but this time, if she said the wrong thing, they might take it out on Jordie.

Caesar was clueless to her internal conflict. "Naturally, naturally. Now, if you're feeling overwhelmed, give me a sign, and I'll change the subject."

"Okay," Iris said, surprised that Caesar even had the tact to think of it. "Thanks."

"Not to worry. The interview is not too long, so you hopefully won't be too tired by the end of it. There's nothing to worry about." Caesar smiled at her. It was a different smile to the ones he was famous for. It seemed genuine. "I'll give you a few minutes to gather yourself. See you onstage!"

He left with another gentle smile. Iris was surprised at how different he seemed offstage. She was even more surprised to realise that she liked him. She'd been expecting him to be arrogant, loud like his onstage persona, but apparently even Caesar had to pretend to be someone he wasn't.

Out of the corner of her eye, Iris saw a flash of blonde hair. She whirled around, heart beating quickly in her chest. But no one was there. Not the person she thought she saw. Her hands were shaking. Was she going crazy? She had seen something.

The backstage lights dimmed. A technician led her to the platform that would rise with her on it. She could hear Caesar warming up the audience. Pomponia smiled at her as her platform lifted - the others seemed too excited (the preps), too arrogant (Ulysses), and too grumpy (Haylee) to even spare her a thought. They too were lifted up to the stage, and then it was Iris' turn. Her heart was still pounding. For a second there, she was sure she had seen Agata.

Please let my dress stay in place, she thought, as the platform began to rise. There was a metallic taste in her mouth. For a second, right before the platform reached the stage, Iris was sure she would be bombarded with heat and light and sound. It felt far too similar to the tubes in the launch rooms.

Instead, she entered to applause, and cheers, and a swooping spotlight that settled on her. She gulped, and forced a smile onto her face, grateful that her legs didn't shake as she crossed the stage to Caesar. He shook her hand, keeping a firm grip on her as she sat down. Pomponia, Haylee, and the others were sitting where the tributes had sat during the interviews.

"So lovely to see you again, Iris! I must say, you look fantastic tonight. Doesn't she, folks?" The audience cheered, and Iris tried not to let her smile tremble. "How has it been, being back in the Capitol?"

"Wonderful," Iris said, lying through her teeth. There had been times, over the past couple of days, where she would have preferred to be back in the arena. It was far easier to navigate the blistering heat of the desert than the overwhelmingly artificial Capitol. At least in the arena, there'd been no one she was expected to sleep with. She'd had a formula to follow. Here she felt completely out of her depth. She was an alien in a whole new world and she was expected to know how to navigate it all by herself. "It's been great talking to Pomponia again." At least that part was true.

"Ah yes, the wonderful Pomponia!" The spotlight landed on Pomponia, who waved it away bashfully. "And how has it been, seeing your mentor again?"

Iris had to remind herself that Caesar was now talking about Haylee. The mentor in question grimaced as the spotlight landed on her. "I think she's had too much of a headache to realise I'm back," Iris said with a smile. Haylee rolled her eyes. The audience laughed.

"I'm sure, I'm sure," Caesar chuckled. "Well, I am certainly glad to see you back. I was rooting for you, you know."

"Thank you, Caesar."

"Let's get on with the questions everyone wants the answers to. What are you going to do now? What's on the charts for Iris Paquin?"

Iris took a deep breath. She didn't have to think about it. "First I'm going to buy my brother some new shoes."

"Ah, yes. Jordan, I believe?"

"Everyone calls him Jordie," Iris said. "I've missed him. I'm looking forward to seeing him again." She looked into the nearest camera. She could almost imagine that she was staring directly at her brother. "You're going to have whatever you want from now on, Jordie," she told him. Was he sitting at home, with Emily and their father? Or was he watching in the town square? Wherever he was, she hoped he was alright. That he didn't hate her too much for all the horrible things she'd done.

"How lucky he is to have you," Caesar said, smiling at her. It was the same smile he'd had backstage. Genuine. Kind. Iris decided he was her second favourite Capitolite, after Pomponia. "And what about you, Iris? How will you spend your time?"

"I want to learn how to paint," Iris said. "I've always wanted to. I've loved to draw ever since I was young, but I haven't for years. Hopefully now I'll be able to."

"Well, I for one think you will be excellent, and I look forward to seeing your creations on your Victory tour."

"Thank you," Iris said again. She could hardly think, knowing so many eyes were on her. The way the Capitolites looked was so distracting it was hard to focus on what Caesar was saying. Surgically altered faces, brightly coloured skin, gaudy clothing. Even though they were sitting in the dark they were all she could see.

At least Caesar still mostly resembled a human. "If the drawings we saw in the arena were anything to go by, you're certainly on the right path!"

Pictures appeared on the screen behind Caesar, and Iris saw the patterns she'd left in the sand, on the walls of the canyon, even the work she'd done on herself and Agata's skin with the camouflage paints. Seeing Agata again stopped her in her tracks, especially after what she had seen backstage. Her breath quickened as she thought about the last time she had seen Agata alive… in the seconds before Malachite shoved her head into the bear trap.

Caesar saw her expression, and slightly raised an eyebrow. She knew he was asking if she was alright. She wasn't, and she knew she never would be, but she refused to look weak on camera after everything that had happened. She nodded at him, giving him permission to discuss Agata. "Now, Iris. I think that a lot of us were surprised when you decided to ally with the girl from One. What was your thought process when this happened?"

"Well," Iris said slowly. She tore her eyes away from the screen, back to Caesar's face. "I knew I needed her just as much as she needed me. Neither of us would have had a chance against the rest of the Careers by ourselves."

"And neither of you were in good condition, as I recall. You were both still recovering from injuries sustained in the scorpion attacks."

"Right. So I knew that our combined strength would give us a chance."

"Why do you think Agata Hanratty was so willing to help you win? When it would certainly mean her death?"

It had only now occurred to Iris that she'd never heard Agata's surname before. She wondered what else there was about Agata she didn't know, that she would never know. What had been her favourite food? Did she have a favourite flower? "I don't think I'll ever really understand. She had such a bright future, and certainly would have made a better victor than me."

Agata would have made a better victor than Iris, that was certain, but Iris did understand why Agata didn't want to win. She had known that she wouldn't be able to live with herself, after the things she'd done. And Iris was beginning to realise that she wasn't sure she could, either.

But she didn't say any of that.

Caesar cleared his throat, and Iris realised that she had been staring blankly into the crowd for too long. "But Agata wasn't your only ally. What drew you to the boy from District Ten and the girl from District Nine? How did you know they would help you get ahead?"

Iris didn't like how Caesar had phrased that. Like Kasia and Christopher hadn't been people to her, just tools she could use. She hated that he had said it like that, because that was how she had viewed them, at least in the beginning. She hadn't set out to become so attached to them. It had been the opposite of what she wanted. She wasn't sure what to say, but Caesar was looking at her expectantly, and she had been quiet for too long.

"I liked Christopher, because he was smart. Really smart. He picked up on things I never even noticed. Just from watching the reapings and the parade, he was able to tell me things about myself I hardly knew." She paused then, and picked at the long false nails Ulysses had insisted she wear. "And Kasia - well, she was like me. Independent to a fault. Cunning. Clever. Bit of a bitch. And she had a better memory than probably anyone I've ever met."

"But do you think you could have won without their help? Without Agata's?" Caesar asked. He had looked concerned when Iris had called Kasia a bitch, which was typical. The Capitol could deal with seeing children brutally murdered on live television, but a bad word was too much for them.

She could tell that he was fishing for a specific answer, and she wasn't going to give it to him. "No. Definitely not. They all helped me differently, and I wouldn't be here without any of them. I'll always be grateful for that."

Caesar smiled at her. A fake smile this time. "So humble! But I think you need to give yourself some credit, Iris. What do you think, folks?" The audience roared their agreement. Iris fought to keep the plasticky smile on her face. "Now. We saw you experiment with a flail in the training sessions, but this never came into fruition in the arena - why is that?"

"I did try to make one," Iris said, "but I couldn't get it right. And I thought that fighting with something dependable would be better than fighting with something I'm particularly good at. I mean, how bad would it have been, if it broke when I was fighting one of the Careers? One of the mutts? I wasn't going to take that chance."

"Perhaps your mentor could have sent one?"

Iris rolled her eyes. "Yeah. Perhaps."

"I know that a few of your sponsors were quite disappointed when you didn't receive any gifts in the arena. How did you feel?"

Iris shrugged. "I didn't think much of it, to be honest. I just assumed I didn't have any sponsors. I'm very grateful to know that I did." It wasn't entirely a lie. It was nice to know that she'd earned something for her troubles, even if Haylee hadn't sent her anything. That how hard she'd worked on her image had earnt her something, even if Haylee had ruined it eventually.

"I, for one, can think of a few instances where a gift would have come in handy. You very nearly died of dehydration. How did this make you feel?"

Iris fought the urge to roll her eyes. What kind of a stupid question was that? She knew Caesar probably had a script to follow, but after some of these dumb questions she wasn't sure she liked him as much. "Thirsty."

Caesar chuckled, and the audience laughed with him. Iris wondered, if Caesar was not there to tell them what was funny, would they still laugh? If he kept his voice monotonous, his face blank, would the audience stay blank too? When the audience stopped laughing, he looked at her seriously. "In all seriousness. How does it feel, knowing you came so close to death?"

Iris shrugged. She didn't want to talk about this. She wanted it to be none of their business. "It's not the first time I've nearly died. I'd rather not think about it. I'm still alive, and that's what's important, right?" She picked at the ribbons on her dress. She didn't care anymore, if it fell down. They were going to use her for her body anyway, why should she care if it was on display?

"Of course, of course. And thank goodness for that." Caesar smiled at her. "Would you have done anything differently? If you could turn back the clock?"

She wasn't sure how to answer that question. She wanted to say something like I sure as hell wouldn't have volunteered but she didn't want to say anything that might annoy President Snow. Because she had a feeling that if she annoyed President Snow, things wouldn't turn out so well for her. "I guess I would have just done more for my allies. Maybe if I had stopped Agata from running into the feast… maybe things would have turned out different."

"Different how?" Caesar asked.

Iris realised she had talked herself into a corner. She knew she couldn't answer his question how she wanted to. She wanted to say that maybe, if she had saved Agata, someone else would have won. So then she wouldn't have to be here, still alive when everyone else wasn't. "Oh, I don't know. But I can't go back, so I guess it doesn't matter."

"I suppose what matters most is now you can move forward. You have so much to see here in the Capitol!"

Iris forced out a laugh. "I look forward to it." Really, all she wanted was to curl up in bed and rot. She didn't want to spend another second in the Capitol. Just knowing she now had to come back every year was torture enough.

"As do we, Iris, as do we!" The audience cheered again. Iris wondered why they cared. She certainly wasn't the most interesting victor who'd won in the last ten years, but they were treating her just the same as all the others. She wished they hated her as much as she hated them. "We certainly will miss you when you leave tomorrow. But, of course, we'll see you next year! How does that make you feel?"

"Oh, just great," she said, realising after the words had left her mouth that they sounded quite insincere. She smiled, hoping to distract from her accidental sarcasm. "I'm looking forward to seeing the sights, and to getting to know the other Victors. And everyone else, of course," she added hastily.

"You are, of course, going to be mentoring next year. How does that make you feel?"

"I just want to do a good job. Help people." She met Pomponia's eyes. "Hopefully I'll manage to get someone home."

"Well. If your approach to being a mentor is anywhere near as good as your approach to the arena, I am certain you will succeed. I have every faith in you."

"Thank you, Caesar," Iris said.

"Unfortunately, that is all the time we have for today," Caesar said. "But we will see you soon, on your victory tour!"

Iris forced a grin onto her face. "Can't wait." She would rather individually pull all of her toenails off than ever set foot back here again.

"Thank you, Iris Paquin!" Caesar shouted. He helped Iris to her feet, and she waved before walking off the stage as quickly as she could.

As soon as she was out of sight, she leant against a wall, breathing heavily. The interview had been nothing like what she expected and yet it had been everything she'd heard before. She felt completely and utterly exhausted.

The whole experience had been so overwhelming. First, whatever it was she had seen backstage, because she knew she had seen something. It was definitely her mind playing tricks on her, but that didn't mean that what she saw wasn't real. And then the interview… reliving the arena… and how overstimulating it was onstage, with the lights and the heat and the noise… Iris rubbed her eyes. She wanted to sleep forever, to not have to think about anything ever again. She wanted to have earned some rest, but she didn't think she would ever be allowed to stop.

/

"You must not speak unless spoken to, and you must always be polite -" Pomponia said anxiously. "Do not mention anything he doesn't."

Iris stared out of the tinted window, watching colourful buildings fly past. She was vaguely listening to what Pomponia was telling her, but she was far too anxious about her meeting with Snow to actually take much in. Her heart was still pounding in her chest from the interview, and from whatever it had been she'd seen. She had, at least, been able to change out of that stupid dress. She felt far more comfortable wearing pants and a blouse.

Pomponia walked her right up to the doors of the presidential mansion. She squeezed Iris' hands in hers. "Remember what I told you."

"I will." Iris smiled weakly, pulled her hands out of Pomponia's, and opened the doors.

She had seen the gardens of the residential mansion at the banquet the previous night, but she did not recall ever going inside. Of course, she had been quite drunk, but she was sure she would have remembered that. It was lavishly decorated, of course, but wasn't cosy like the tribute bedrooms were. It had a distinctly cold atmosphere, and Iris could feel goosebumps appearing on her arms.

An avox bowed to her, and she resisted the urge to bow back. The avox, who looked to be in her early twenties at most, silently led Iris upstairs. Two Peacekeepers stood outside Snow's office, staring forwards blankly. Iris wondered if they would say anything if she tried talking to them, or if they would ignore her. If she grabbed one of their guns, would they pepper her through with bullets? She was tempted to find out. Maybe she would have, if it weren't for Jordie. The avox pulled the door open for her, and Iris walked inside.

Snow did not look up when she entered, and Iris stood awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do. He was writing something. Am I supposed to… sit down? She decided to stay where she was, as quietly as possible until he acknowledged her. She knew that he knew she was there. Was this some kind of power play? An intimidation technique? Whatever it was, it was working.

After a minute or so, the president capped his pen and looked up at her. "Miss Paquin," he said, smiling coldly. "Please, sit down."

Iris crossed the room and sat in the chair in front of his desk. "It's a pleasure to meet you, sir," she said. Her mouth felt dry.

"The pleasure is all mine, Miss Paquin." He offered her his hand and she shook it firmly, surprised at how soft his skin was. She'd been expecting scales. "I imagine you know why you're here."

"My arrest?"

"Indeed." Snow smiled at her again. Iris didn't smile back. "I am sure you are aware that there are certain… standards… the Victors are held to. By allowing you to win despite your crimes against the Capitol, I must request that your behaviour from this point onwards is nothing short of patriotic."

"Of course."

"There would be chaos, should it be known that there are no consequences to one's actions. I trust that you have been punished enough - your allies, of course, should serve as a reminder to you what can happen if you do not play by the rules. By allying with you, they learnt that it is not permitted to mix with those who have disobeyed the law."

Iris allowed his words to sink in. Was he saying what she thought he was saying? Were her allies dead because of her?

"If it comes to my attention that you are continuing to reject the carefully placed laws of the Capitol, you will find out what happens to those who break the rules. Do you understand?"

"Yes, sir. I understand," Iris whispered. The walls were closing in on her, and she tried to breathe as though every last scrap of air had not been drained from the room.

"This also applies to your duties as a Victor, which I am sure your mentor has informed you of. Should you fail to uphold these responsibilities, you may find it very difficult to get any tributes out of the arena. Is this clear?"

"Yes," Iris repeated. "Sir."

"Excellent." His lips stretched tightly over his mouth in what Iris guessed was supposed to be a smile. "Now, I will let you on your way. You have a long journey tomorrow."

"Thank you, President Snow." Iris shakily got to her feet, and pushed the chair in. She bizarrely had the urge to curtsy, but Snow was already looking back down at the papers on his desk. She knew she meant less to him than the dirt on the bottom of his shoes.

As soon as she turned around, he coughed. "Oh, and Miss Paquin?"

"Yes?" she said, turning around.

"Do say hello to your brother for me."

Iris felt her heart leap into her throat. "I will, sir." She knew a thinly-veiled threat when she heard one. Snow might as well have said play along or your brother gets it. She walked as quickly as she could from Snow's office and towards the car in front of the mansion. Pomponia was leaning against it, and she evidently saw the panic in Iris' face.

"What's wrong?" she asked, alarmed.

"Nothing," Iris said. "Let's just go."

Pomponia did not press her further. When they got back to the penthouse, Iris went straight to her room with a bottle of wine.

Caesar is a queen and I love him

There's going to be a lot of radiohead from now on fyi because Iris is ok computer she just is that is HER