Chapter 39: Pulling Strings
Thud.
Celsi stumbled out of the elevator and into the hall leading to the District 5 floor. He landed on the floor ungracefully, taking an expensive red crystal vase down with him.
The vase shattered across the pristine cream and gold marble floors with its crystal shards and metallic flowers marring the perfect floor. He lifted his head and muttered an apology.
Creon shook his head disapprovingly at the boy and walked over him despite his timid nature, Sera realized that Creon wasn't really timid but rather he had a low opinion of people from the districts.
A typical Capitolite.
With a sigh, Sera bent down and stretched out her hand towards the boy on the floor, being careful not to extend her bandaged arm. Celsi clumsily grabbed her hand and almost dragged her down but she caught herself in time and managed to pull him to his feet.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to do that." Celsi tried again and Sera only nodded. Her opinion of the boy had fallen to the floor and possibly to the earth below the floor. "I-I'll be careful next time."
"It's fine." Sera said. "Just don't do it in the arena."
Faline's gaze was on her clumsy partner and Sera noted how the girl observed each of her partner's moves with such focus, almost as if she was plotting against him before they even entered the arena.
"S-Seraphine." Creon stuttered out, turning around as if he just remembered his purpose as the escort of District 5. "Z-Z-Zephyr. H-have you two chosen who you two will be mentoring?"
Faline turned her head slightly towards Sera. Her eyes focused on her, not on Zephyr almost like she was trying to will Sera to pick her. The girl knew what she wanted.
On the other hand, her partner seemed indecisive. Celsi glanced from Sera to Zephyr. He didn't know who would be the better fit. "We…don't get to choose?"
His words made Zephyr crack a smile and Sera raised her brows in silent judgment before she too smiled or pretended to.
"Unfortunately, no." Sera said, motioning an avox to come and clean the mess Celsi had made before flipping her wrist up towards her to check on her wristwatch. "It would be a nice if you could. That being said, I have somewhere to be so I'll state my choice. I'll pick Faline—if that's okay with you?" Sera turned to Zephyr who nodded.
"I'll take Celsi then." Zephyr grumbled out, displeased with his own choice. It was clear, he did not want the clumsy boy as his tribute but he had no say in the matter.
"Wonderful." Creon clapped his hands together. "We'll have dinner and then—"
"I have plans for dinner." Sera cut in, checking her watch again and ignoring Creon's crestfallen gaze on her. "Though I can give an hour of my time for any questions or advice." She finished with a small smile directed at Faline.
Her tribute's gaze sparkled with interest. Sera motioned Faline to the side and led her down one of the halls. Faline followed her silently, though she was actually up at the ceiling which had been changed since Sera herself was a tribute.
The ceiling above was decorated with thin, almost transparent opalescent crystal sheets with lights buried in its folds. They glimmered brightly like the first rays of sun after a stormy night and Faline was transfixed by the sight.
She really did remind Sera of a cat and Sera couldn't help but let out a genuine smile. Sera quickly masked her emotions before Faline noticed and pushed the double doors to the living room open.
"You can start asking your questions." Sera began, taking a seat in front of the fireplace and lighting it. Then she turned on the television.
Caesar's face appeared on the screen, unchanged and untouched by time as he smiled and laughed about the latest batch of tributes. Faline almost glared at the man but when she noticed Sera staring at her, she pretended she was only looking at the screen which changed instantaneously as the Capitol's anthem played and a stoic blank faced anchor appeared on the screen.
"Good evening." The anchor greeted quietly. "Our top news tonight; the tragic death of beloved victor of District 1, Laelia Kering. Ms Kering was found dead on a train by the escort of District 1, Vito Blanchard, no reports citing cause of death have been released with some speculating the cause to be—"
"Aren't you going to ask me any questions first?" Faline asked. Nervously, she sat opposite Sera.
"Should I?" Sera questioned back with a mischievous glint in her silvery eyes. "I should, shouldn't I? I guess I'll get my questions out of the way. Any skills?"
Faline scrunched up her face and sat up, her back straight. "I'm quick on my feet. I think I'm good with a blade."
"You think or you are? Pick one."
"I'm not sure."
Disappointed, Sera sat up, ready to get up and leave. Her interest was gone.
"I would say I am." Faline tried again. "But I'm not as good as you, Cashmere or Leora." Sera didn't need or want flattery and one look at her, Faline knew she said the wrong thing.
"Hmm. Then what can you do?" Sera knew her tone was condescending but her time was limited and she had to be at the clinic in two hours.
"You didn't let me finish." Sera motioned for the girl to carry on. "I can cut a thing or two. I know it's not impressive but I'm smart, I have a good memory. I can remember things well and identify plants along with their uses."
"I suppose that's not too bad. You can learn how to fight in three weeks." Still Sera didn't think it was enough. "It's not bad, there's room for improvement. Do you have any questions for me or…"
"I do. I have a few questions." Faline tapped her feet nervously while glancing around. She opened her mouth and shut it again, chewing on the bottom of her lips. "...Are you sick?" She asked.
Sera frowned, a little taken aback by Faline's question. She didn't expect Faline to ask her about her health, none of the other tributes she had mentored including Zephyr had ever asked her about her health.
"Am I sick?" Sera echoed back, expecting Faline to take her question back. Faline scanned Sera's form and nodded. "Does it matter? All I can tell you is that I won't drop dead during your games but I am curious…" Faline looked up. "Do I look frail?"
"...No. Not at all." Faline slowly said. "I just…I looked up your games on the train." And Sera's interest in Faline was back. "I remembered you were sick during your games-"
"It's been years since then, I'm fine now but thank you for your concern."
Faline narrowed her eyes and examined Sera once more, eying her form carefully. Her gaze lingered on Sera's pale face, she wasn't normally as pale as she appeared in front of Faline and the two knew that.
"Any other questions…other than my health." Sera subtly decided to push Faline to move on.
For a second, Faline didn't say a word. She stared at Sera's face, still examining her like she was a threat not her mentor and Sera couldn't help but feel amused. It had been a while since something had caught her attention, something that broke her monotonous thoughts.
Faline would be an interesting pawn.
Sera flipped her wrist up and momentarily took her eyes off Faline to check the time. "I have time for one last question for the night—ask away."
Nervously, Faline pulled at the sleeve of her shirt, stretching the delicate fabric. "What happens after you win? After you…become a victor."
The moment those words left Faline's mouth, the girl became still but her eyes were trained on Sera, studying her face closely for any cracks in her kind mask.
Despite her nervous behavior, it was obvious to Sera that Faline was clearly anything but anxious.
Maybe she was anxious but not over dying in the arena. It was what came after winning that haunted her.
Nobody—to her knowledge—had ever questioned what happened after the games were over, not even she had questioned the aftermath.
Most tributes would always ask about the arena and how to survive the games but no one hardly ever wondered what happened once the game was over.
Maybe if she had asked enough questions, she wouldn't be the one sitting in front of Faline.
But even if she poked and prodded about the aftermath, Huxley would've looked her straight in the eye and lied to her just so she could return home for Talissa's sake.
"What happens after someone wins?" Sera echoed the question, a plastic etched onto her face. She didn't know if her eyes gave away the storm of emotions swirling inside her. "Well, there's the crowning ceremony and then you go back home. You stay in your district till the new year before embarking on the victory tour. That's what happens after you win."
Faline nodded. She folded her fists and licked her lips, opening and closing her mouth as if she was debating whether or not she should say what was on her mind. "I…I mean what happens to the victors."
The smile on Sera's face became a little stiff. Her bandaged arm felt heavy and there was tightness in her chest. The more she stared at Faline, the more she felt as if she was looking at the mirror.
Cold detached gaze as if she wasn't really there and the stiff smile that looked plastic from a closer glance.
But Faline wasn't Sera.
Faline was not sickly like her.
Faline didn't have a time limit on her life.
Faline questioned everything around her.
Faline would be a great victor.
Unfortunately, they didn't need another victor. Sera needed a pawn not a victor. It was a shame that Faline had the misfortune of being reaped that year. If it was a few years ago, Faline would've been a splendid victor, another person like Zephyr, Beetee or Wiress.
Faline wasn't the person Sera was looking for.
"Every victor has a different experience."
"Good or bad."
"I wouldn't be able to tell you that."
"Why?" Faline countered. "Are you hiding something?"
Sera laughed. She liked Faline, she wasn't as gullible as the other tributes. "I have no reason to hide anything and I mean it when I said I can't tell you about it because I don't speak for everyone."
Faline nodded and Sera flipped her wrist over to check the time on her watch. "Then, how was your experience?" She asked after a little hesitation.
Her experience?
Her chest felt heavy and she could only nod as she tried her best to find her words. "Unfortunately…we've run out of time. I have a medical appointment…"
She wasn't really going to tell Faline about her appointment but the more the girl questioned her, the more she realized that Faline was not an easy person to fool.
"I'll see you tomorrow after your first training session and we'll talk about survival strategies in the arena along with potential arenas, alliances and even sponsorships." Sera added.
"What if I don't want to survive?" Faline said without thinking, stopping Sera mid-step.
What?
Sera turned around and stared at the younger girl. Faline's sharp amber eyes bored into her silvery ones, unmoving and unafraid. "I'm not suicidal or anything but I know my odds." She carried on while Sera stayed quiet. "My odds aren't great. I watched the reapings of the other tributes on the train, most of them looked stronger and more skilled than me. Even the lower districts seem to have a good batch this year."
"So you're just going to give up?"
"It'll be easier besides that, I can't fight without knowing what awaits me when it's all over."
"Don't you want to go back for your family? Isn't that enough motivation?"
"No." Her response was quick like she had been anticipating Sera's question. "My family will be fine without me. My survival doesn't depend on them. It depends on the arena and looking at all the tributes so far, it's not looking good for me."
For once, someone had Sera speechless. It took her a minute to gather her thoughts.
"Your odds…are always changing even when you're in the arena. You go into the training sessions and learn a few things, your odds go up. You get your training score, your odds change. I get you sponsors, your odds change. Odds are always changing. You can't base your own survival on those odds and if you give up before you even begin, your odds of survival go down."
"And what if I'm scared of winning?"
Sera sighed and flipped over her wrist to check the time. "I'm afraid I'm out of time. We'll talk more tomorrow."
Faline stood up to protest but Sera was already walking away, meeting Zephyr and Celsi in the long corridor where Celsi was talking up a storm. With a small and short greeting, she got into the elevator taking her down.
She hurried outside where a car was waiting outside for her. The ride to the clinic was quiet. She didn't have any guards or anyone accompanying her. Peacekeepers only followed her when she was working unlike the past where Scarus followed her like a shadow.
"Miss Reza." A short stocky woman with two-colored amber and violet eyes stared at her with a grim look. "Unfortunately, I don't have good news." She said, taking out a pen from the bun her silver-violet hair was up in.
Sera only smiled and nodded. "I guessed but I won't be changing my mind, Dr Jadewell."
Harmonia Jadewell, the quiet and perpetually somber doctor was Sera's personal doctor and had known her since she was eighteen when her illness had taken a turn for the worse. Emilia under Plutarch's instructions had recommended her; President Snow didn't raise an issue and simply allowed recommendation to go through.
If Sera didn't know any better she'd think the President cared. That couldn't be the furthest from the truth. President Snow only wanted her alive because she played her role well, not like her fellow victors.
"Seraphine." Dr Jadewell called out to her and sat down in front of her. "I understand you're afraid of this operation—"
"I'm not afraid." Sera stated. "I just don't think I…need it."
"And in my professional opinion, I think you need it now more than ever, if you keep delaying it, you'll be cutting your life expectancy in half." The tightness in her chest returned. She felt suffocated in that sterile medical office with white and pale blue walls that felt constricting. "President Snow…also ordered me to persuade you."
Sera wasn't surprised that the President started to push for her operation. He didn't want to lose a pawn and it didn't help that the older the man got, the more paranoid he was getting and she didn't exactly do much to stop his slow descent into an obsessive madness.
What could she do but speed it up.
"I'll thank him for his concern in person."
"You're turning it down again." Dr Jadewell scrunched up her face and turned away. There was no use trying to push Sera, she was stubborn and once she had made up her mind, she wouldn't change her decisions. "Very well. I can't take the operation off the table but I can push it back as much as I can." Sera smiled in thanks but Dr Jadewell didn't return the gesture. "That's all I have to say. You have a visitor waiting for you in the private gardens of the clinic."
The door to Dr Jadewell's office opened just as she finished speaking. Nurse Cardea stood at the threshold with a placid smile, she motioned towards the clock on the wall and Dr Jadewell bowed her head in silence.
"Then I'll see you next week." Sera said as she left the room.
Dr Jadewell merely mumbled a goodbye, too exasperated by her stubborn responses to say much.
"How long has he been waiting?" Sera asked Nurse Cardea while the two descended down the steps to the mostly private unused garden.
"A while. He's not too happy about being kept waiting." Nurse Cardea almost whispered.
Sera only grinned in response. Nurse Cardea shook her head and opened the gates of the private garden.
The elaborately detailed glass shell of the roof of the greenhouse-like garden had been renovated with metallic vines holding the glass. Through the glass and metal vines, she could see stars shining brightly amongst the hanging flowers.
In the middle of the grassy floor, the old blue-green metal garden table with four chairs surrounding the table sat. The table was decorated with trays and plates of food. Two of the chairs was already occupied by the former Head Gamemaker and his assistant Fulvia.
"You're late." Plutarch said, tucking away the pocket watch he had been staring at before she had walked in. He looked the best she had seen him in years, so different from their first meeting. "Sit down. We have a lot to get through tonight. I hope you haven't had dinner."
"Fortunately, I didn't have the time to. I've been quite busy." Sera pulled a chair and sat down as Nurse Cardea bowed her head and left the garden. "You don't seem too pleased with me."
"Getting straight to the point." Plutarch chuckled, passing her a plate full of food and sitting down in front of his plate. He tapped his index finger on the table a few times, contemplating before he finally spoke and said a single name. "Laelia Kering."
"A tragedy isn't it?" Sera airily questioned, slicing open the eggplant steak in front of her and missing the twisted look on Plutarch's face. "They say they haven't got a clue on the cause. So tragic."
"So it was you." Plutarch narrowed his eyes and turned his silent gaze towards Fulvia who let out a tired breath.
"I'm not admitting and I'm not denying it so take it as you will." The former Head Gamemaker stared at her in disbelief and glanced at his assistant to check she heard what Sera said before he chuckled.
Sounds of knife scraping the plate echoed against the quiet garden, only being dulled by the sound of the rushing fountain behind the two. "I have to hand it to you, you're good at your job."
"Thank you and you're good at yours." Not many could rise back to the side of President Snow after being nearly poisoned to death by him and being suspected as a traitor yet Plutarch was someone who managed to survive like a cockroach, he just wouldn't go down without a fight.
Plutarch breathed out sharply. "You know, everytime I get a new pawn, you go and kill them."
"Laelia was hardly new and with every that I take, I give you ten more." Sera reminded him. Her grip on the knife tightened and Fulvia straightened her back, her grip on her own knife tightened. "And I've warned you before if any of your stupid pawns are foolish enough to expose themselves or raise any suspicion, I won't put my own life and reputation on the line to save them."
Fulvia clicked her tongue and wrote something down before she looked up and slid her notes towards Sera. "How do you intend to replace her?" She said, pointing to the picture of the late victor Laelia.
"I'm sure you're aware, we're all supposed to be working together." Plutarch reminded her and Sera nodded her head begrudgingly. "Then why do you keep—"
"I'll remind you I said I would work with you on a condition and that condition was putting my own survival above theirs."
Plutarch slammed his glass of wine onto the table, startling Fulvia. "If you care about your survival so much then why don't you go through that damned operation!" He hissed out before taking off his glasses and wiping them. "I'm–we're so close to the finale, why do you have to set us back?"
The tightness in her chest grew and her eyes trembled. She looked away and focused on her meal in fear she might start crying. "I'm not setting us back. I'm making sure we're on track. Laelia was going to get us exposed."
"You know I recruited the other victors—"
"I know." Sera said. "And I'm not the only one who knows." Plutarch paused and looked up. "On my way to the Capitol, Consul Icarus Redcliff…visited me to pass off a letter from President Snow—a request to look into the other victors and it wasn't the first time I received a letter like that. There was a list, a very specific one and you might not be surprised to know that most of them were on our side. He's starting to suspect everyone around him, even the victors aren't safe."
Fulvia's eyes widened and she quickly took out her tablet, turning it on. She fiddled around with it and passed it to Plutarch. "I swear none of our contacts inside the Palace told us anything."
Sera took a sip of her drink to wet her parched throat. "They're most likely dead." Fulvia and Plutarch stared at her and she shook her head. "I didn't do it. President Snow prefers I focus on the Elites and the Senate members more so on the admin and secretarial staff."
"You…poisoned Laelia." Plutarch breathed out. "She was your fellow victor."
"Wouldn't be the first victor I poisoned." Sera muttered under her breath.
From the corner of her eyes, darkness crept up in the field of her vision. The image of Laelia flickered in her view and she wasn't alone as three more stood behind her.
Laelia's foggy jade eyes cried tears of blood despite her death being a bloodless one. She looked bloody and beaten up like the phantoms of Sera's allies.
"Trai-tor." She choked and Sera shut her eyes to erase the still image of Laelia's corpse in her room on the train.
"She was helping us to train and find some tributes for the rebellion."
"She was also leaking intel. It was by accident, if I had to be completely honest but we can't afford to have accidents "
"You never liked her."
She hardly knew Laelia Kering. Their only encounter was when she voted against the deceased victor's tribute to let Annie Cresta live. "It was nothing personal. I only spoke to her once and that was back during…the 70th Games."
Plutarch sighed and massaged his forehead. He appreciated Sera and liked working with her but it was no secret to either of them that he didn't approve of her methods. He didn't care if the Capitol elites on their side died but victors were another story. He wanted them to live, to potentially help him as generals or architects of the new Panem he dreamed of.
"Who else was on that list?" Fulvia carefully asked, writing it down on her tablet.
Sera threw her head back and shut her eyes, trying to recall the contents of the now burned letter. "You two might want to get comfortable in your seats because it's a long list."
Plutarch shifted in his seat and pulled his chair closer. Fulvia did the same.
Sera sat straight and started to recite the names she recalled. "Laelia, Silk, Peridot, Jasper, Nile, Onyx, Gloss, Lyme, Slate, Dustin, Blade, Nova, Mercury, Echo, Beetee, Wiress, Leora, Estelle, Julian, Jet, Namia, Blight, Ash, Leif, Johanna—no surprise there."
"You did warn us about her." Fulvia commented.
"She doesn't get along with Johanna." Plutarch added with a laugh. "Ah, well you haven't really tried."
Sera glared at him before continuing. "Where was I? Oh yes. Johanna. After that there was Cecelia, Woof, Dottie, Argyl, Eartha, Bear, Seeder, Chaff…" With each name Plutarch and Fulvia's faces became paler. "And even last year's victor, Clay was on that list."
"This isn't good."
"That's almost all the victors working for us." Fulvia added. "District 9's Eartha was found dead last year. Both District 10's Bear and District 1's Jasper died in mysterious circumstances earlier this year." Fulvia recounted, going through her tablet.
"President Snow has kept you busy." Plutarch commented. His jaws were clenched and the tapping on the table grew louder. "I do hope you can keep your word and manage to replace the victors that we lost."
"Well, the games for this year just began, haven't they?"
"And? Have you checked the tributes?"
"Not yet but from what little I've briefly seen; One, Two, boy from Eleven and Twelve look promising. I'd say Five but Faline, my tribute is not the person we're looking for."
"And why is that? We don't need someone too skilled, we just need someone who we can rally the entire nation behind them."
"Faline is not the one we need. She's smart, quick on her feet and a little skilled but she questions everything too much."
Plutarch clicked his tongue in disappointment. "We've rained gasoline on the entire nation; how hard is it to find someone to light a single spark?"
Sera shrugged. "I wouldn't put my bets on Two or One either. They seem like typical careers obsessed with the idea of glory."
"I'm personally leaning towards Twelve."
"Why is that?" She asked, tilting her head to the side.
For some reason, Plutarch always seemed to lean towards Twelve as if he knew some secret relating to the district. He wasn't the only one, she noted. Even the President seemed a little too focused on the poorest district in Panem. She never dug around enough to find out. Not that she had any time to.
Plutarch never answered her, swiftly changing the topic back to the previous topic. "At least, Cashmere and Finnick weren't on the list." He said, eying her reactions.
Sera's face paled but she quickly composed herself, digging her nails into her palms to keep her mask of indifference from slipping. She didn't care. She didn't care about him at all. "I'm sorry, did I miss a few things during my time off or…"
"Ah," Plutarch stopped tapping the table and shared a look with Fulvia.
"I need to…um…let our people know about the list." Fulvia stammered out and awkwardly shuffled out of the garden, leaving Sera and Plutarch alone.
Plutarch waited for a few seconds before he spoke. "I know you're angry."
"Furious actually. You know working with him comes with conditions."
"Oh, I hadn't realized. It's almost like I don't have any experiences with that at all." Plutarch drawled out giving her a pointed look. Sera turned away. She was a hypocrite, she had her own conditions and gave Plutarch a hard time but here she was complaining about Finnick. "At least his condition was more reasonable."
"Which was?" She pressed him, still not meeting his gaze as the tightness in her chest increased, almost suffocating her. "What were the conditions?"
Plutarch said nothing for a second before he barked out in laughter. There was a twinkle in his eyes and despite his previous anger towards her for killing a few victors, he didn't have any problem laughing with her. "Why should I tell you?" He drawled out.
"Because…" Sera breathed out. "Because…" She repeated, trying to come up with an excuse. She had nothing. She didn't really need to know. "Because I…need to know if he's going to get in my way." She lied.
"In what way?" Plutarch countered and Sera almost wished she let him die of poison the first time they met. As if he sensed her thoughts, he grinned and shook his head. "Relax. You don't need to answer me. It's just a little…amusing to see the tranquil 'Flower of Panem' lose her cool over someone."
Sera scoffed. "I-I didn't lose my cool. I just wanted to know if I would be having any issues. Johanna already gave me plenty of issues with her little stunt at last year's charity winter gala."
"You know I think Johanna and you would make good friends."
"I don't know her."
He sighed and shook his head. "Not everyone around you is your enemy."
"Not everyone is my friend."
"Sometimes, I even wonder if we're on the same side."
Sera only smiled in response and Plutarch exhaled loudly. Somehow, she wondered if he ever regretted making her his partner-in-crime. She knew if she was Plutarch, she would regret trusting her.
Unfolding her fists, she lightly rubbed her thumb over the indentations she had made on her fists and looked up. "What were his conditions?" She asked again even though the rational part of her told her not to. Her heart won and locked her brain in a temporary cage.
There was a small pause before Plutarch gathered his thoughts to speak. He was being careful and she didn't feel so good about his next words. "He wanted to know about what happened at the 70th Victory Dinner." He said slowly.
The blood in Sera's veins went cold as the rushing sound of the fountain water was all she could hear for a moment. "And?" She breathed out. "Did you tell him?"
'No.' She'd hoped he'd say and tell her that he lied to him.
But unfortunately, the odds were never in her favor.
"I did." Plutarch said instead. "He traded a big secret for it. I had no choice."
Sera bobbed her head while her eyes were unfocused. Of course, Plutarch would tell him. He was a fair man who knew that everything had its own price and he was a man of his word. "I trust you omitted my part in it." She all but whispered out.
"Ah." That was all she needed to know as she stood up. "...He wanted to know about your involvement."
"And…you told him?"
"The price for his secrets was expensive." Plutarch answered in response.
She rolled her eyes and freed her hair from its braid, combing her hands through the thick black threads. "As long as it helps us in the long run." She said with a painted smile as Plutarch frowned. "Besides, it's not like I was the one who poisoned them."
"No but you did come with the plan—it was one of your best plots, if I should say."
"You flatter me and we'll end the night here." She turned away and grabbed her coat. "I expect you'll be at the charity gala I'm hosting this weekend."
"I'll make time and Sera…" She paused and turned her head towards him. "I hope you reconsider your choice regarding the surgery."
Sera laughed bitterly. "It's almost like you care."
"Perhaps." Plutarch said quietly.
Sera stared at him before leaving him there in the garden. Nurse Cardea met her at the entrance of an elevator and escorted her in without a single word.
The quiet nurse seemed tired as heavy dark circles marred her mostly flawless lilac colored skin. Sera smiled and bid her a good night as she got into the elevator that would take her straight back up to the entrance.
Tightness in her chest was gone but the scars on her fists remained. She studied the marks, tracing them alone in the elevator when the elevator stopped. Her breath caught in her throat as she stared at the doors in silent anticipation.
But to her disappointment, it wasn't the person she wanted to see.
"Oh." The calm face of Head Gamemaker Seneca Crane greeted her as the doors opened. "Seraphine, lovely to see you here." She nodded stiffly and shifted to a corner of the elevator, putting as much space between them as she could.
"Head Gamemaker, come for a treatment?" Sera asked politely.
"Something like that and I suppose you're here for the same reason." She nodded and pressed a button to go to the first floor. "Do you–do you have plans for this evening?" He tentatively asked, hoping she'd say 'no' just so he could take some of her time.
With a silly smile and feigned daze look on her face, she turned to the Head Gamemaker. "Oh yes of course. I plan to go back to the Training Center and organize a game plan for my tribute and then I have to plan the Little Suns Orphanage's charity gala for the weekend."
"Sounds like you've got your hands full and you're a mentor this year." He clicked his fingers, remembering her position in the games and nodded to himself. He was an awkward man who thought too highly of himself. "Tell me, what do you think of the games this year?"
"Well, they haven't really started but I hope you make it an…explosive one."
The corners of Seneca's lips lifted as his mouth stretched into a gleeful grin. "Thank you. I promise to not let you—Panem down."
Sera nodded, bored out of her mind. The elevator seemed to slow down before the door opened. "Well I'll see you at the gala till then…" She bowed and stepped out, ready to hurry to the car but Seneca had more to say.
"Any predictions for this year's game?"
Breathing in softly, she shrugged. She needed to give him an answer or he'd keep pestering her for one and the last thing she needed was for him to follow her back to the training center.
One? Would be too obvious so would Two or Four. Saying Five would make her sound biased and a little full of herself.
Without really thinking, she blurted out. "Twelve." She wanted to bite her tongue for choice but it was already said and she couldn't take it back. "...I think Twelve has…a real chance this year."
Seneca's eyes lit up in interest as he nodded. "Really?" He laughed. "I guess you and I are more common than I'd thought."
"Who would've guessed?" She airily commented. "Well, I have to run. I've already left the driver waiting for a long, I'll see you." She waved at him before turning her back to him and hurrying down the steps without even looking back.
Seneca Crane was a menace and she absolutely loathed that privileged man. At least, he was better than Scarus. Seneca knew where her boundaries were, Scarus didn't. Neither were as good as—
Sharply Sera breathed out and shut her eyes.
She needed to stop thinking about such useless things. She had so much to do and she shouldn't waste it on useless regrets. What was done was done and she had to live with her choices.