Sorry for the late update! Hope you enjoy!
The next day was spent preparing for the interviews.
After breakfast, Philomena tutored Maze and Alt in the art of etiquette. She had the two of them wear formal clothing in preparation for their actual outfits.
Maze wore a floor-length dress and high heels, which she loathed. The dress was too long on her and dragged on the ground. This, combined with the spindly heels strapped to her feet, caused her to constantly stumble. No matter how many times Philomena coached Maze on how to hitch up her skirt and strut, she just could not get it.
Alt, dressed in an ill-fitting suit, just watched her flail around with an amused smirk. This just pissed Maze off even more.
After a while, Harmonia paid a visit. She only glanced at Maze for one second before speaking to Philomena.
"Ugh. Don't bother with that. I'm not putting her in a long dress or heels."
Maze sagged with relief. Philomena sent her to change into a shorter dress with flats, and the lesson continued.
For the first time, Alt was better than Maze in something. He quickly picked up on etiquette, learning how to look people in the eye and smile and give firm handshakes and the like.
Maze, on the other hand, was a walking etiquette disaster. She was capable of sitting up straight and waving and smiling, as well as sitting properly in a skirt (some embarrassing incidents in her childhood taught her that). Anything beyond that, she struggled with. She could only look people in the eye and sit completely still for brief moments of time. Otherwise, she was a constant whirlpool of motion, always moving some part of her body. Her ring used to make her fidgeting less obvious, but she hadn't seen it since Beetee took it.
Philomena was patient — Maze will give her that. But after Maze kept bouncing her leg and tapping her fingers and whatever else, too many times, she could sense Philomena's patience starting to wane.
At the end of the session, Philomena just sighed and told Maze to focus more on the quality of words than the quality of her body language. Maze couldn't guarantee that. She didn't focus on the quality of her words when she had cursed at Cortana on national television. And she certainly hadn't focused on the quality of her words when she had snapped at Troy on the train and gotten herself slapped.
They had lunch, and then Maze and Alt went to their private sessions with their mentors to be coached on the actual content of their interview. After Alt had smirked at her mishaps during the etiquette lessons, Maze had no sympathy for him for having to endure a private session with Troy.
Maze and Beetee went into a sitting room that Maze hadn't even noticed during her four days living in the training center. They sat across from each other on different sofas, with a low table dividing them. Outside the massive windows, the Capitol streets below bustled with activity.
"This is going to be a short session, because I've already figured out your angle for your interview," Beetee said once the two of them had settled.
"Oh?" Maze tilted her head. "What is it?"
"You're going to be yourself."
Maze let the words sink in before replying. "Myself? But I'm a mess!"
"Think about it," Beetee said. "You were being yourself when you cursed at that girl during your Reaping. That got the Capitol's attention on you. Then, you were yourself when you were posing on the chariot, which also caught people's attention. And then you got your eight in training by being yourself during your private session with the Gamemakers. So far, being yourself has been beneficial to you."
"I wasn't myself when posing on the chariot," Maze replied, crossing her arms. "I don't act that cute in real life."
"But nobody coached you to do that," Beetee rebutted. "I only told you to smile and wave. You chose to pose all on your own. So you were being yourself when you were posing, because that was a decision that you made without any outside influence, even if it wasn't the way you usually act."
Maze rolled her eyes. "Whatever, Mr. Logic."
Beetee continued, the sides of his mouth curling up in amusement. "Besides, I have the feeling you couldn't be anyone else but yourself even if you tried. I can't see you as aggressive, or egotistical, or mysterious, or flirtatious or anything else."
"Thanks for your vote of confidence," Maze muttered.
"Take it as a good thing. I think you being yourself would be beneficial to you. I don't suggest this to every person I mentor."
"I guess." Maze uncrossed her arms, instead crossing her legs. "So how do I practice being myself?"
"You don't." Beetee also crossed his legs. "I can't do a good Caesar Flickerman impression anyway. Like you, I'm best being myself. No matter how much the Capitol hates it." He mumbled the last part, but Maze heard it clear as day.
"So, what do we do?" Maze asked.
"We do nothing." Beetee paused for a moment, thinking. "Wait. Or I could show you what not to do during your interview."
He turned to the large window. "Computer, display Beetee Latier's interview from the 37th Hunger Games."
The window made a chirping sound, before starting to play a video.
The video showed the usual interview stage, built in front of the Training Center. A much younger-looking Caesar Flickerman sat on the stage, joined by young Beetee. He wore a dress shirt and slacks, along with a patterned waistcoat and matching bowtie. The same rectangular glasses he wore in the present day sat upon his face. With his gangly limbs and mass of curly hair, he reminded Maze a lot of Alt.
Caesar started the interview by asking the sixteen-year-old Beetee about his training score of nine. Beetee, while looking around and fidgeting slightly with his hands, began describing in great detail the electric trap he had built during his private session. He even gave the audience a crash course on basic circuitry. The camera panned around to show the bored-looking audience.
Caesar, noticing the audience reaction, did his best to curb Beetee's rambling by attempting to cut in and switch the subject, but Beetee just kept going. And going. And going. His three minutes were up in no time.
"Needless to say, I lost most of the preliminary sponsors I had gotten with my training score," Beetee commented, the sides of his mouth twitching up in amusement as he watched his younger self walk off the stage. "Apparently Panem wasn't interested in the specifics of how I got my training score."
Maze couldn't help but laugh. "Noted."
"Our session is now over," Beetee said, standing up and turning the screen back into a window with a tap. "You can do as you please."
Maze nodded, an idea formulating in her mind. She thanked Beetee and headed back towards her room. She saw no traces of Alt or Troy, or any indication of where they could be. Knowing Troy, he was probably berating Alt somewhere.
Once Maze was back in her room, she changed out of the dress and flats, settled on the bed, and spoke aloud.
"Computer?"
A chirp sounded from somewhere in the room.
"Play the highlights of the 37th Hunger Games."
Maze had decided to watch Beetee's Games. After he showed her his interview, she got curious as to how his Games turned out.
She knew the basics of his Games. When she was eight years old, she performed in a school-sanctioned musical edition of his Hunger Games. For whatever reason, Maze's primary school's music teacher had created a musical edition of Beetee's Games as a way to 'showcase District 3's history' and 'let the children learn through song'. Of the four victors' Games, his was deemed the least gruesome. Child-friendly musical editions could not be created from Atto, Troy, and Wiress' Games.
In the musical, Maze played the role of Singing Arena Berry Bush Number Five. In the one scene she was in, she had to sing some song about the dangers of the arena while dressed as a berry-covered shrub. It was utterly humiliating, and young Maze hated every second of it.
The music teacher had invited Beetee himself to attend the performance, and he had shown up. He wore a polite face for most of the performance, but Maze remembered noticing the pain in his eyes as he watched it. She couldn't tell if it was from the painful memories the musical brought up, or the off-key singing and unsynchronized dancing.
Now that she was thinking about the musical, Maze remembered there being a song about his interview mishap. She chuckled at the memory as a screen on the wall displayed the beginning of the 37th Hunger Games.
The footage started at the Reaping. The escort, a woman with a green color scheme, pulled Beetee's chip from the orb and called his name. The footage showed him shuffling to the stage, fists clenched by his sides. His curls were frizzier and duller than in his interview, and a couple of blemishes dotted his face. He studied the crowd with wide eyes as the escort called the girl's name, an eighteen-year-old named Mobile Wisniewska.
Mobile stood a few inches above Beetee, with short, golden-brown hair and large brown eyes. She was gorgeous, as well as well-endowed in the breast department. The sheer size of them made her dress teeter on the line between decent and indecent.
The next scene to play was their tribute parade. The two District 3 tributes wore Euthymius' infamous electronic pattern, styled into a suit with a waistcoat and long jacket for Beetee, and a ruffled dress with a corset for Mobile. Mobile smiled and waved at the crowd, but Beetee just stood and stared straight ahead with a neutral expression, hands clutching the front of the chariot.
The screen next displayed Beetee and Mobile's training scores. Beetee got a nine, which Maze remembered from his interview, while Mobile got a measly four. Additional commentary mentioned that Mobile had shown off her skill (or lack thereof) with an ax to get the four.
Maze skipped Beetee's interview, having already watched it. She watched Mobile's interview instead. Her stylist must have wanted to go for a seductive angle with her, with her plunging neckline, thin dress fabric, and blood-red lips. The content of her interview screamed otherwise. Mobile was kind, warm, and funny. Her responses to Caesar's questions had both him and the audience smiling and laughing. Compared to Beetee's interview, hers was so full of life.
After Mobile's interview concluded, the screen cut to the start of the actual Games. Twenty-four tributes stood in a circle around the Cornucopia, situated in the middle of a foggy wetland.
The tributes wore waterproof brown overalls and wide-brimmed brown hats alongside collared shirts and thick boots in their district colors. The camera focused on Beetee, donned in District 3 indigo, who surveyed the arena and Cornucopia with sharp eyes.
The gong sounded, and Beetee leaped off his plate. He sprinted towards the Cornucopia, grabbed a random bag, and then ran away from the bloodbath with the speed of the wind. Back at the Cornucopia, tributes hacked each other to pieces. Red clouds crept into the surrounding water.
The footage showcased Beetee as he trekked his way towards the outer edges of the arena over the span of the next few hours. His bag contained only a sleeping bag, to his misfortune. He did get a good night's sleep that night, though, and the following nights.
Over the course of the next few days, Beetee hiked along the outskirts of the arena, sloshing through flooded fields and over wet ground. A constant drizzle enveloped the arena. Despite the water everywhere in the arena, he did not drink any of it, other than letting some particularly heavy rainfall fall into his open mouth.
The only food Beetee ate was berries off bushes scattered around the arena. The same type of bush that Maze portrayed in the musical. She chuckled again at the memory, picking up a pillow on her bed and hugging it.
After a couple days of eating nothing but berries and drinking minimal water, desperation began to settle into Beetee. Maze could tell it in the gauntness of his cheeks and the way his eyes hungrily settled on the fat, meaty herons that dotted the arena landscape. The herons were numerous and coexisted peacefully in the arena with the tributes. The unnatural blue hues of their wing and tail feathers suggested they were some type of mutt.
Before Beetee could decide if he wanted to try catching a heron, he came across other tributes. The pair from 10 had set up camp, and they had just caught themselves a nice heron. None of them noticed Beetee, hidden in a clump of bushes.
The constant precipitation in the arena made it difficult to start a fire, so the two tributes ate the heron raw. Not even thirty minutes later, Beetee watched silently as the pair began profusely vomiting and convulsing. Ten minutes later, two cannons went off.
Maze noted to herself to always cook meat in the arena.
After leaving the tributes' bodies behind, Beetee went back to the edge of the water and stared at a clump of herons swimming, a thoughtful expression on his face. He then grabbed a fallen tree branch on the ground and used it to spear one of the herons.
He dragged the carcass of the heron out of the water, sat down with it in his lap, and began to pluck the feathers out. The video showed that he did this for over an hour. When the bird was bare, Beetee turned it every which way, examining it closely. Finally, he found something — a small plastic box embedded in the neck. He grinned and, using a random stick he found on the ground, dug the plastic box out of the heron's neck.
He tore open the plastic box, which cased electronic components, including a battery. Beetee's grin grew even wider. He closed the casing, putting it in his pocket, before standing back up again and picking up the stick he had used to kill the heron.
After twenty minutes and some splashing around, Beetee had two more dead herons. He took out their trackers and settled himself beneath a cluster of trees that somewhat blocked the rain. He laid the trackers on the ground and with deft hands, connected all three of the batteries to one of the transmitters. This caused an overload of the current, and sparks began to fly. Eventually, these sparks coalesced into a small fire.
Beetee's smile at his small victory was contagious. "Yes!" He did a first pump, which made Maze giggle.
"This is the first fire to be started in this arena," Caesar commented. A small square in the corner of the feed displayed his face. "Great job, Beetee!"
Beetee gathered twigs and sticks, and the fire grew. He cooked the plucked heron on a stick and then ate the meat. Unlike the District 10 tributes, he didn't get sick.
By the time he had finished his meal, night was beginning to fall. The heron had plenty of meat on it still, and Beetee had just set it aside when a voice called out.
"Beetee!"
It was Mobile, walking towards him out of the trees. She had the same, desperate hungry look that Beetee had just a few hours ago.
"You're not here to kill me, are you?" Beetee asked her.
She shook her head. "No. Are you going to kill me?"
"No." Beetee shook his head. "I wouldn't kill one of the only people who's been nice to me this entire ordeal."
Mobile smiled briefly at that, before turning her gaze to the cooked heron Beetee had set aside. "Are you going to eat the rest of that? I haven't eaten in a couple of days."
Beetee silently handed her the heron, and she tore into it, bringing the whole thing to her mouth and eating without inhibition. Beetee watched her, licking his dry and cracked lips.
"Do you have any water?" He asked when Mobile finally surfaced from the heron to breathe. She nodded and took a full water bottle from the backpack she wore.
"Here. It's rainwater I've gathered. It hasn't harmed me in any way drinking it, so I assume it's safe."
She went back to devouring the heron. Beetee grabbed the water bottle and began chugging it. The two tributes were silent as they both filled their needs.
Once the heron and water were gone, the two began talking. They talked about their experiences in the arena so far and what they knew about the other tributes. Mobile showed Beetee the contents of her backpack, which included a large spool of wire. His eyes lit up as he saw this wire.
As the night grew darker, Mobile and Beetee began conspiring. They agreed that the Career pack needed to be dealt with so everyone else could have fair odds. Mobile had briefly seen them setting up camp at the Cornucopia. They hatched a plan that would help level the playing field. The next morning, Mobile would distract the Careers, and Beetee would plant the wire by the Cornucopia. From there, they'd figure out the rest of the plan.
The feed showed a brief shot of them sleeping together in Beetee's sleeping bag as the blue light of the dawn began filtering through the thick fog. Both of them looked so peaceful despite their treacherous setting.
They awakened and began their trek to the Cornucopia. The feed cut to the Careers. They too were awake and active, huddled by the entrance to the Cornucopia. They ate a breakfast of field rations and conversed. The only other tribute in the area was the District 12 male, who slept in a thicket of berry bushes about two hundred feet from the Cornucopia.
Mobile and Beetee reached the back end of the Cornucopia, stopping just far enough to be able to easily retreat if necessary. A fallen dead tree sat in front of them, large enough to conceal them from view. The two made eye contact, and with a nod, Mobile sneaked her way out from behind the log and made her way to the opposite side of the Cornucopia, still hidden from view of the Careers.
Beetee dropped one end of the wire and placed it beneath the tree. He began unraveling it and creeping in the direction of the Cornucopia.
Mobile began yelling and screaming, acting like she was in a fight with another tribute.
The Careers immediately took notice. The screen switched to show them.
"What is that?" One girl asked.
"Sounds like a fight of some sort."
"Should we go investigate?" One of the boys got up, clutching a sword, but one of the girls interrupted.
"No. It's probably a trap. I don't hear any weapons sounds. Or any other footsteps. The girl could be making those sounds all by herself."
The boy with the sword listened for a few moments. "Yeah. Something isn't right. Let's ignore it for now."
The Careers went back to their conversation.
Panicked, Beetee stopped and made eye contact with Mobile. He mouthed something but neither Maze nor the cameras could make out what he was saying.
Mobile blinked at him, squared her shoulders, and then let out a long and sexual-sounding moan.
Beetee's eyes became saucers. So did Maze's.
Mobile let out another moan, then another, inserting some pants in between them.
The Careers stopped talking. They listened to Mobile's moans for a while, slack-jawed.
"She's not doing what I think she's doing, right?"
"In the arena?! Are you serious?!"
Mobile's moaning escalated, becoming louder and more frantic.
Blushing, Maze leaped off her bed and scurried to the screen, turning the volume down and furiously hoping no one was near her bedroom.
During the musical, Mobile's moans were replaced by her making various animal noises. The adults in the audience all laughed at that for longer than necessary. Maze remembered thinking that the animal noises weren't that funny, and that the adults were weird for laughing so much. Now, she understood why they laughed so much.
A split screen showed the District 12 boy waking up in his bush and blinking confusedly.
Mobile and Beetee made eye contact. Mobile nodded, and Beetee started creeping towards the Cornucopia once again, laying the wire onto the ground.
Mobile let out an especially loud moan. This time, she mixed in Beetee's name.
Beetee's eyes widened again and he blushed so hard Maze swore she saw the sweat on his brow turn to steam.
Maze had to stuff the crook of her elbow in her mouth in order to not laugh. Poor Beetee looked so flabbergasted.
The Careers were equally amused.
"So it's the District 3 tributes!"
"What absolute freaks!"
"The nerd and the girl with the big tits? Damn, lucky him!"
They exchanged more disparaging remarks, laughing. Mobile looked at Beetee again and motioned at the Cornucopia with her head. He nodded, still flustered, and quickened his pace towards the Cornucopia. Puddles splashed beneath his boots as he made his way towards the metal structure. Thankfully, the Careers were too busy laughing to notice the noises.
"What an unorthodox method of distraction!" Caesar commented, barely stifling his laughter. "And it's clever, too! By mixing her district partner's name in, she's giving them the expectation that he's with her and not elsewhere."
The District 12 boy was now fully awake and scowling. He grabbed his sword, one with a nasty, curved blade, and started running towards Mobile.
Beetee finally reached the back of the Cornucopia, dropping the end of the wire in the shallow moat that surrounded it, before retreating hastily, making his way back to the fallen tree.
The District 12 boy reached Mobile and plunged his sword into Mobile's back. Maze gasped at the sight.
Red bloomed from Mobile's wound like a liquid rose. She let out one last moan, this one of pain, before slumping onto the swampy ground.
The cannon went off. The boy yanked his bloodied sword from Mobile's back and took off running in the other direction.
Maze had a vision of the District 12 girl, Camilee, plunging a weapon into her own back. She winced and shuddered at the thought, hugging her pillow again.
Onscreen, the Careers had noticed the cessation of Mobile's moaning and the sudden cannon.
"Wait a minute…don't fucking tell me that guy just fucked his district partner and then killed her!"
"No way!"
"Oh, I'm so investigating this!"
"This might be another trap," the same girl from earlier warned but none of the others listened to her. They filed out of the Cornucopia, going in all directions, until they found Mobile's body, bleeding out into the marsh. They gathered around it, crying out in disbelief and cursing Beetee.
Beetee watched all of this go down from behind the fallen tree, his face crestfallen. His eyes held a haunting, hollow look as he viewed Mobile's body from afar. There was no trace of the dark brown warmth Maze knew them to hold.
"I'm sorry, Mobile," he mumbled as the Careers continued to stand around Mobile's body and discuss theories as to what they thought happened between them.
While they were distracted, Beetee took flight, running away from the Cornucopia and back into the fog. His boots splashed against the wet ground, but once again, the Careers were too preoccupied to notice the sounds.
The next couple of days in the arena were uneventful. Beetee returned to his and Mobile's camp, collecting rainwater, creating fires, and hunting herons. The other tributes picked themselves off, one by one, until there were only ten tributes left, including all six Careers.
On the seventh day of the Games, Claudius Templesmith made an announcement.
"Attention, tributes: In one hour, a flesh-eating virus will be released into the arena. The resulting death will be very painful. However, there is a way to prevent this. In one hour, six pills will appear at the Cornucopia. These pills will provide immunity to the virus. Repeat: In one hour—"
After the announcement concluded, a countdown timer appeared in the misty sky.
Beetee, who was resting in a tree, sprang into action. He grabbed his sharpened stick, which he had been using to hunt the herons, and quickly killed a heron, before yanking the tracker out of its neck and sticking it in his pocket. Still holding the stick, he flew through the marsh, heading back in the direction of the Cornucopia. The screen showed the other tributes making their way to the Cornucopia.
He made it back with only ten minutes to spare. Gasping for breath, he ducked behind the fallen tree, out of sight of everyone. The wire he had placed just days earlier was still there, undisturbed.
He took out the tracker from his pocket and fiddled with it, managing to completely disconnect it. Once it was disconnected, he attached the tracker's battery to the wire, but he didn't dare reconnect the tracker. Instead, he laid in wait behind the tree.
Meanwhile, the other tributes, including the Career pack, had gathered on the perimeter of the clearing that housed the Cornucopia. They all stood at the ready, poised to pounce at the pills as soon as they appeared.
Finally, the countdown in the sky reached zero. A tone sounded, reverberating around the landscape. A flock of herons took flight.
A circular hole in front of the Cornucopia opened up, and a table with five pill bottles rose up into the arena.
The carnage began.
Knives in backs. Limbs hacked off. Blood everywhere, blood that stained the water red.
Maze hugged her pillow tighter, the scene invoking a sense of dread in her. That could be her in just a few days.
Unsurprisingly, the six Careers triumphed over the three non-Career tributes. Three cannons went off. The Careers stood in the bloody water, surveying their prize.
None of them had any idea Beetee was there, watching them like a hawk ready to spring upon its prey.
There were only five pills, and six Careers. They began to argue over who got the pills. The argument soon turned heated, one boy even pulling out a knife. One of the girls lunged for a pill bottle.
In that exact moment, Beetee made his move.
He flicked a switch on the tracker.
All seven remaining tributes got shocked.
The force of the shock flung Beetee backwards. He landed on dry ground, where he lay unmoving. The Careers all convulsed for several seconds, before going limp.
The cannons for the Careers began to go off. The screen showed a cinematic, aerial view of Beetee sprawled out on the ground. He was starting to come to his senses again, blinking and wincing in pain.
A fanfare played.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you, the Victor of the 37th Hunger Games: Beetee Latier!"
At that announcement, Beetee's eyes fluttered closed again, and the screen faded to black.
The next thing to play was his exit interview. He wore a similar outfit to what he'd worn for his initial interview, but in shades of silver. The appearance of Troy next to him on the interview couch surprised Maze the most. She felt a pang of sympathy for Beetee for having to put up with him as a mentor.
Beetee's face was expressionless the entire interview, showing no emotion. However, he had the same look in his eyes he did when Mobile died: hollow and haunted.
He answered all of Caesar's questions quietly and in short sentences, looking down at his fidgeting clasped hands the whole time.
They then showed him the highlights of his Games, the cameras recording his every reaction. Thankfully for Maze, they didn't show the entire thing, just the important moments, like Mobile's death.
Beetee kept his expressionless mask the entirety of the highlights, although his misery was apparent. He kept looking around, like he'd rather be anywhere but there. The only exception was when Mobile died on-screen. With that, he grimaced and squeezed his eyes shut, gripping the couch cushion with enough force to make his knuckles turn white. Troy gave Beetee a sympathetic look and gently patted his shoulder.
Troy's actions surprised Maze. That was the first time she'd seen him display anything that resembled kindness. Somewhere in the twenty years between then and now, he must have lost that kindness.
The 37th Hunger Games highlights ended with President Snow crowning Beetee with the silver victor's crown, matching his outfit. The screen then displayed a seal of Panem, playing the anthem once more before shutting off. The screen turned back into a blank wall. Outside the windows, the Capitol shimmered gold in the late afternoon sun.
Not even a minute after the screen turned off, Maze heard an all too familiar knock on her door.
"Maze?"
Maze went and opened her door, finding the Victor of the 37th Games himself at her door.
She almost did a double take at first, her mind still seeing the teenage boy previously on her screen. Beetee hadn't changed that much since his Games. He had grown maybe an inch or two taller, and he had definitely put on weight. His hairstyle was the same, albeit better groomed. The same black rectangular glasses sat upon his face.
"Dinner is ready," he told Maze.
Maze took another glance out the window. Dinnertime already? The highlights were longer than she thought.
She walked to the dining room with Beetee. They sat and ate, but Maze couldn't stop thinking about what she just watched.
Beetee's hollow, despaired eyes at his final interview would not leave her mind. The eyes of a man — no, a boy — who had just witnessed an entire week full of horrors. The eyes of a boy who knew that out of the twenty-four sent into the arena, he was the sole survivor. The eyes of a boy who had to live with the fact that he had murdered six other teenagers.
Now, across the table, a calm, collected man sat and ate his dinner. There was no trace of the despair he once had anywhere on him.
Maze wondered just how Beetee had learned to live with it all. How he managed to compartmentalize his negative emotions and memories from the Games. Or if he hadn't and just learned to mask it well.
She wanted to know what made him tick.
For whatever reason, Maze liked Beetee. And he, somehow, seemed to like her. It didn't make much sense — he was so calm and logical, while she was just a huge ball of chaos, emotions, and rash decisions. Perhaps they cancelled each other out, and that's how they got along so well.
It was a shame Maze only had one more full day of knowing him before being sent to her death.
Beetee noticed Maze's staring and tilted his head to the side a few degrees in questioning. Maze dropped her gaze to her plate, face burning in embarrassment of being caught.
"Are you alright?" He asked Maze after dinner was over, when Troy, Alt, and Philomena had left and no Avoxes were in earshot.
Maze nodded, biting her lip as she remembered what she'd watched that afternoon and resisted the urge to echo the same question back at him.
Beetee's Games were adapted from Christian Blanco's Tales of the Hunger Games series on YouTube, with minor changes.