Chapter Text
Liv woke up thinking of Cashmere. Strange, considering that she was in bed with her beautiful, perfect, loving girlfriend, but something had been gnawing at her since their talk on the first day of training. Of course, not much time had passed since, but with all the drama with Lucretia and the resistance meeting, it had just slipped through the cracks. When a new morning dawned, and she had mostly managed to work through every other thing on her Must Deal With Immediately list… then came the subconscious reminder. Cashmere had said something weird- something that stuck in Liv’s mind. It wasn’t inappropriate or crazy or anything like that. It was just… odd.
We’d do anything for our children , Cash had said.
That stuck out to her at the time, but she hadn’t really given it much thought. Now, though, Liv considered it. Cash didn’t have children, as far as Liv knew, but that didn’t necessarily have to mean anything. Liv was technically doing this for Cece’s children, yet in this context, they also counted as hers . Communal children, so to speak. They were a community. Our children weren’t just Cece’s kids, though- at least not to Liv. Our children also included every single kid in every district- the children who could be reaped and sent to die, the children who stayed home and watched their friends or family be slaughtered, the children left behind who suffered the cruelty of the world around them… the children every single one of the victors had once been and the children they’d had to kill to keep living.
We’d do anything for our children , indeed.
Yet, Liv hadn’t received a single word of rebels in One. Thirteen hadn’t mentioned being in contact with them, nor had Heavensbee. That didn’t necessarily mean there weren’t rebels there- she was sure there were rebels in Two, but they hadn’t heard from them either. Two was far more heavily guarded than One, though, because, despite other districts not knowing it, they were the peacekeepers. Going against their own community had to be difficult, personally and logistically. She wasn’t surprised that they’d heard so little and that there hadn’t been any direct action yet.
One wasn’t like that, though. If rebels in One wanted to do something, they would probably have far more liberty to act. Four did, after all. Four used their privilege with the Capitol and stretched it to a breaking point, using it to cover themselves while protesting, rioting, and striking. Sooner or later, their leeway would run out, and they’d be beaten down just like the rest of them, but for now, the rebels in Four did what they could.
One hadn’t.
Liv trusted that it didn’t mean they weren’t there. Dazzle was proof of that, and Liv knew Cash, Gloss, and even Augustus well enough to know that they didn’t like what the Capitol did. Despite the three of them probably not wanting conflict and the fact that Liv doubted any of them would be on the front lines fighting peacekeepers, she knew that there had to be something there. Something had to be going on, and if there wasn’t, it was essential to find out why.
That was the role she’d been filling last year, no? Finding out what victors were open to rebellion and which districts they could ally with?
So, time to investigate. What better time for that than their final morning training? After lunch, they’d have their evaluation, and the next day, they would all be in their rooms preparing for their interviews. Ironically, they were under less surveillance during training because as long as they spoke softly and looked busy, nobody would look too closely. Asking Heavensbee to mess with surveillance again would probably not be the wisest choice. Liv also didn’t want to draw attention to Cash and Gloss in case… anything happened. In case they didn’t want to get involved with anything for some reason. They were Liv’s friends. She didn’t want to get her friends hurt unnecessarily. No matter what happened in the arena or what they’d be forced to do to each other if things continued as they were, right now, they weren’t in the arena, and she had the choice not to get them hurt.
And if there was a chance to get them to join, if there was any way to avoid fighting them, she wanted to grab it with both hands.
Finnick and Jo had written them off, not because they didn’t care or didn’t want them, but because they assumed that if the siblings hadn’t approached them, then that was that. They didn’t want to tear open any wounds by asking and being rebuffed, and they didn’t want to hear their friends say that they’d be fighting against them. Knowing was one thing; hearing it was another.
Liv understood; she just disagreed . That meant she’d be talking to Cash and Gloss that morning.
So, when they entered the gym, Liv asked Jo to stay with Woof for a while so she could talk to One. Despite how she pursed her lips, Jo agreed and guided Woof towards the knot-making station. That was good. Liv really wasn’t looking forward to having to explain herself right now. She’d do it tonight and report whatever she found out about what was happening. There were no secrets between her and Jo. Disagreements sometimes, sure, but no secrets.
“Hey,” Liv greeted, joining Cash and Gloss in their stretching exercises. “Got room for one more?”
They were on the mats with the weight meagre weight equipment. Liv was glad to see she wasn’t the only one missing their workout gear.
“Sure.” Cash smiled at her and then moved to touch her toes. “I see your treadmill lobby didn’t work out. That’s too bad; I would’ve loved one right now.”
Gloss hummed. “We were thinking of doing suicide drills now that the gym is still mostly empty.”
“From one end to the other?” Liv straightened, twisting her arm a little to stretch the muscle, and looked around the gym. It was a bit too long for that from the back to the Gamemaker balcony, but the other side… “Or are we picking two points?”
“I’m thinking from the climbing ropes-” Gloss pointed towards one of the stations. “To the archery station. That’s a good length. Enough to strain, but not so long that it’ll exhaust us too early.”
“Sounds great.” Liv grinned and sank to the ground, working on her inner thighs. “Warm up run?”
“Oh, absolutely. I’m not planning on tearing something,” Cash huffed, amused, and continued with her routine.
Liv allowed them to sink into companionable silence for a while. It was nice to spend time together before everything blew up. She was trying to avoid things blowing up between them, but she wasn’t optimistic. Liv wanted to try, but she didn’t expect a good outcome.
It wasn’t until they started their slow, warm-up jog around the gym that Liv broke the silence.
“So, I know we haven’t broached the topic,” she said, keeping her voice low so they wouldn’t be overheard but not so low that they’d arouse suspicion. “But how are you guys feeling about alliances?”
The silence that followed her question felt unreasonably tense—more than the situation called for, which was already a lot of tension. That meant something was probably going on.
Usually, Cash handled situations like these. She was a bit of a social butterfly by nature and trade, and of the two of them, she took the lead when it came to interacting with others. Gloss was usually a man of few words, yet this time, Cash felt silent, and Gloss stepped up. Something absolutely had to be going on.
“We can’t, Liv.” Can’t. “We’re in a bit of a tough spot with Brutus here…”
“I heard One and Two made alliance offers to Twelve,” she answered. So, it wasn’t as if they weren’t accepting people from outside the Career districts. Besides, she hadn’t been speaking of joining them. She’d meant- “And you don’t have to stick with Brutus, you know. You’re welcome with us.”
They were .
Was Brutus an allegory for something here? Was Brutus, the legendary Career that helped shape young teens into the threats they were in the arena each year, representative of something? Was Brutus, who volunteered for a second go at the Hunger Games without any apparent reasons, a placeholder for something else?
Liv thought so.
Liv also felt a little guilty about it. She didn’t know Brutus; she’d never met him before- she still hadn’t actually met him. She didn’t know what compelled him to volunteer, whether he had family back home or… anything at all, really. Using his name as an allegory for the Capitol just felt a little gross. Whatever his thoughts or motivations might be, he was a man who’d been put in an arena as a child and was going into this next arena like the rest of them. Whatever he might think or do, he wasn’t the enemy here.
When the silence stretched on, she amended, “With him. You don’t have to stick with him . None of you do.”
Because wasn’t that the crux of the matter? Wasn’t that what they could all see clear as day? The Careers, because of the loyalty of their districts -or of the majority of their districts- were going to participate in these Hunger Games like they were any other, and if they didn’t get invited to join them, they’d never even know something else was possible. Right? Didn’t they want a unified Panem?
“Listen, Liv-” Gloss struggled with his words for a second. “You’re our friend. It sucks that you’re here- that you had to come here, and we regret everything that’s going to happen… but some things can’t be helped.”
Liv looked from Gloss, who was on her right side, to Cash, who was on her left side. While Gloss looked like he’d swallowed a lemon as he tried to get through the conversation, Cash looked about as penetrable as a brick wall. She didn’t look angry, or frightened, or in any way distressed. She just looked blank. She looked like she needed the conversation to be over.
Why?
“Don’t tell us anything, Liv. Don’t invite us to anything.” Gloss reached out and squeezed her elbow. “It means a lot that you’d want to include us in… whatever you’re doing but don’t. We’re not- we can’t. We really can’t .”
Don’t tell them anything. Don’t trust them with any information. That wasn’t Liv’s prejudices against a privileged district or against Careers speaking. That was them warning her off. She knew better than to think they would ever willingly do their friends harm. She knew better than to think they wanted any of this to happen. Even if they didn’t want war, they would never side with the people who sold them. At most, they’d stay silent and out of the way.
So- so why ? Why refuse outright? Why refuse when they would probably be dead soon?
“Are they doing-” Liv cut herself off. “Is something going on?”
“ Stop it , Liv.” Cash intervened, shaking her head. “We can’t, alright? There’s something- maybe you’ll find out on your own eventually. But- we’ve made promises we can’t go back on. Even if we wanted to… So, leave it alone, yeah? Don’t- Just let us be friends for a little while longer.”
They’d made promises they couldn’t go back on. Promises for what? To do what? Or to not do what?
Something clenched in Liv’s chest. She was missing something here. Something was going on.
Whatever it was, though, she knew better than to think they’d tell her. If she kept pushing, it’d only chase them away. As Cash said, they just had a little while longer to be friends.
Why ruin that by looking for answers they wouldn’t give her anyway?
So, Liv nodded.
“Alright, then. Nevermind.” She smiled easily at them both. “How about those drills?”
“Have you considered,” Johanna was saying on the other side of the table, “that running suicide drills until you almost puked because you wanted to compete with Gloss might not have been the wisest choice? Especially since we have our evaluations in like… thirty minutes?”
Beside her, Liv was groaning, rubbing over her legs with her forehead on the tabletop. At least she wasn’t all sweaty and red anymore. It had been very impressive, Peeta thought. He hadn’t imagined they would have stamina quite like that . That just went to show that it would be best not to be hunted down by the career pack or whatever alliance Harding ended up being a part of. He didn’t exactly want to be chased by either of them; it wouldn’t end well.
“You’re not being a supportive girlfriend,” Harding complained, not looking up.
“Correct. That’s because I’m not.” Johanna balanced a few tangerines on Harding’s head, attempting to build a tower. “You’re both idiots.”
In Harding’s defence, she had given Gloss a run for his money. Literally. They’d bet on it and promised to pay each other back after the Games. It’d almost been funny. Harding had lost, of course, because Gloss was taller, had longer legs, was older, and had been at the top of his game for far longer than her. She’d still been impressively close to matching him. Gloss had looked very winded by the end of it.
Cashmere had bowed out halfway and was still her usual impeccable self.
“It’s not like any of us were going to take the evaluations seriously anyway.” Liv scoffed and looked up, not batting an eye as the tangerines spilt all over the floor.
Johanna let out a dismayed sound but then refocused on the conversation. “Fucking right. I’m gonna be telling dirty jokes until they kick me out. I’ve been working on my material for months.”
On Jo’s other side, Finnick snorted. “Oh, that’s a great idea. I was gonna do a few cartwheels and call it a day.”
“I was going to tap-dance,” Cashmere piped up, happily eating her yoghurt. “I haven’t done it since I was six, but I managed to get some shoes delivered.”
The table suddenly broke out in exclamations about what everyone else was going to do. Chaff would perform a striptease. Gloss was going to perform a complicated skip-rope routine. Wiress would be attempting to juggle with a few of the paint jars. Harding would be explaining how to make Braiden’s blueberry pie. Beetee had decided to explain several scientific principles to them. Mags was going to take a nap.
Everyone seemed to have ideas on what they could do during their evaluations to show that they weren’t happy about the situation and refused to take it seriously. They were all victors, weren’t they? They were all being put in a killer arena for the second time in their lives. Beyond the fact that none of them wanted to be doing this in the first place, it was disrespectful to treat them like the inexperienced children they mentored every year.
Apparently, the only people taking the evaluations seriously were the victors from Two, as well as Peeta and Katniss. Then again, Peeta wasn’t sure how seriously he wanted to take it either, to be quite honest. He just didn’t think there was a point to an evaluation. The Gamemakers had just seen them last year; they knew what he could and couldn’t do, and just buckling under and trying to impress them… felt too much like subjugation to his tastes. Even more than it had last year. This year, it felt purposeful and personal, not the regular, general violence of having the Hunger Games. So, no, he didn’t quite want to dignify this situation by taking it seriously.
He just hadn’t decided what he wanted to do instead.
Haymitch had told him to surprise the Gamemakers if possible. Peeta wanted to do that, but he wanted to… do something that expressed just how little he thought of them. He wanted to show the Gamemakers exactly how inhumane he found them.
“District One, Gloss Albrecht, report for individual evaluation.”
The announcement sounded clearly over the din of conversation, and the gym door opened again.
Finnick drummed his hands on the table, causing many other victors to join him. “Go on, Gloss!”
“You can do it, Gloss!”
“Jump their asses off!”
“What the fuck does that even mean-” Gloss snorted, getting to his feet, and waved them all off. They did not fall silent. “See you all on the other side, I guess.”
Then, with a small wave, he headed inside. They cheered him on until the door shut behind him, and then they returned to their conversations. There were more jokes. There were impressions of the Gamemakers with whom it seemed they were all familiar. There was laughter and more catching up between everyone. To Peeta, they looked like they were desperately clinging to normalcy. They were all trying to pretend they were back downstairs, wherever that might be, being mentors and spending time together as acquaintances or even friends.
It was awful to think that in just a few days, some or maybe most of them would be dead. Several would be dead at each other’s hands, even. How would that feel? Peeta didn’t want to kill any of them because he didn’t want to kill anyone. He had killed when there was no choice, and he would do it again, but it was still bad. These were people who had known each other for years. Wasn’t it eating at them? Were they just stubbornly clinging to the pretence that nothing was going on? That they wouldn’t kill each other?
How could they live like that? How could they not regard each other with suspicion?
Maybe it was because this wasn’t personal. They knew better than anyone how the Games were played. Peeta and Katniss thought they knew a lot because they’d won one already, but these people had been mentors. They’d lived and breathed the Hunger Games for years; they hadn’t just survived their own, they’d also studied and analysed the Games to get their tributes through them. If anyone didn’t take it personally, it would be the people who could be friends with the mentors of children who killed their tributes.
So maybe it made sense that they weren’t suspicious of each other. Maybe it made sense that they were pretending that everything was fine. It wasn’t just denial. It wasn't just a protest against the people trying to pit them against each other. It was a sincere enjoyment of having each other’s company and friendship for the little time they had left. They were making the most of this before everything fell apart.
All of them were. Even Brutus and Enobaria had joined the conversation, unsure but willing to interact.
It was just him and Katniss who were still on the outside looking in. It was just them who were fascinated, watching these people and finding out that there was a whole world, a whole community, that they knew nothing about, and if this hadn’t happened, of which they would’ve become a part. There was no chance now, though. There was no time.
Every single one of these people had to die for Katniss to go home.
Peeta felt a little sick thinking about it. Grief had always struck him in the stomach. He mourned them already, but he’d accepted the necessity since the Quarter Quell was announced. It was just different now that they’d met them.
Last year, he’d met the other tributes and hadn’t felt any burgeoning fondness towards them. He hadn’t thought he would’ve wanted to be friends with any of them. This year, it was different because the tributes were different. Unlike the frightened, hostile children willing to do anything to claw their way to a victory, these victors were confident, open and unsuspicious. That meant that he and Katniss had been welcomed. That difference in approach from them meant that before he knew it, Peeta had wanted to talk to them. He’d wanted to get to know them.
It meant that, now, he mourned them already.
Augustus had been very surprised when Harmonia took him out to dinner the evening before. He was even more surprised when she called on him this afternoon. It wasn’t necessarily rare for Capitol patrons to rent out their chosen victors while the tributes were still training, but it wasn’t completely standard practice either. Only those patrons with the most pull got to do it, and Augustus very much doubted that Harmonia still had a lot of pull at all. He was actually surprised that she hadn’t been executed right along Seneca after last year’s fiasco. She’d survived, but her social and financial capital were in no way untouched.
So, how could she still rent him out not once but twice in this complicated period?
He hadn’t asked. Augustus knew what kind of digging he could get away with, and this was not it. Bought victors just didn’t ask about the mechanisms behind them being sold. They just made educated guesses and combined intelligence with the other victors. He didn’t want to put his foot into anything, especially with the charged air that practically suffocated them daily. It felt like any wrong move would bring everything crashing down, and he didn’t even know what was going on. He just knew that whatever it was, he wasn’t convinced he wanted to work against it.
Of course, he hadn’t told Cash or Gloss about any of it. They didn’t want to know, so he wouldn’t tell them. Leaving things unsaid was for the best despite it leaving a pit in his stomach. There were just things he couldn’t share with them anymore, and that was best for everyone.
Anyway. Harmonia.
Harmonia was alive against all odds and had already taken it upon herself to rent him out twice. Augustus had known her as a vapid, loud, enthusiastic sort of woman. She was possessive, loved drawing attention to herself, and adored any kind of social event. That was who he had expected to find when her usual valet came to fetch him in District One’s rooms the evening before. The woman he’d found… had not been like that.
Sure, he could still see traces of her, but she was different. It was apparent to him that she’d borne some level of social ridicule. While she still looked the part of a Capitol socialite, she’d taken him to a restaurant with secluded dining areas and had her driver drop them off around the back. Today, she hadn’t taken him to a luncheon or event but brought him to her apartment to spend some private time together. While she still expected certain… physical services from him, she wasn’t as rabidly hungry as she had been in previous years. She was quieter now, and she observed him closely at all times. She was nervous and jittery. She kept looking out the windows and talking to herself.
Often, she looked at him and opened her mouth, only to close it again without speaking and look away again.
There were only so many hours of this he could take before the tension became unbearable. Augustus wasn’t as good an actor as Finnick, and while he could pretend he was deaf, dumb, and blind for a while, he couldn’t do it indefinitely. He was also very adept at managing Harmonia Crane specifically; he had a lot of experience with it… but that Harmonia Crane had been different. He didn’t quite know what to do with this one, especially when she made him so much more uneasy than usual.
While it was tempting to snap at her to just speak up already, he had a feeling that he didn’t want to know what she wanted to tell him. Harmonia Crane had been quite beneficial as a patron for several years. The hints she dropped about her brother’s work, the gifts and the money she gave him, and the way she always sponsored District One’s tributes… had all made her continuous attention somewhat bearable. Of all his clients over the years, he’d been with her the longest, and he’d managed to turn their… acquaintanceship into a net profit. Yet, spending so much time with her meant he knew her now. He understood her. He knew she was impulsive, rash, petty, jealous, and loose-tongued. Whatever she wanted to tell him would only get him in trouble. He wanted nothing to do with it.
Thankfully, she had not yet said anything. He doubted he’d manage to evade it forever but for now…
“Oh, Augustus, it’s such a relief to have you back,” Harmonia was saying. “And as a mentor! It’s so very comforting to know I won’t be losing you.”
Augustus smiled easily at her, curling an arm behind his head, allowing his biceps to bulge attractively. Two years ago, that would’ve gotten her to stop talking and start pawing at him. This year, she only kept stroking over his chest, looking to the side as she spoke. Her gaze was far away, and she didn’t look sated or relaxed despite all his hard work. It was both insulting and worrying.
“Yeah, I guess I got lucky,” he answered.
Lucky was a way to call it. He wasn’t convinced it was luck. Both Charmere and Gloss? They’d been acting strangely since they arrived at the Capitol, too. Because of One’s proximity to the Capitol, they arrived in the evening on the night of the reaping, while most others arrived the following morning. When they’d gone to sleep, Cash and Gloss had been heartbroken, comforting each other, restless- but the following day, they’d been awake and gone to their stylists before he’d even woken up. They’d left far earlier than was reasonable. He hadn’t even known their stylists were there that early.
When he next saw them, they’d been calm and determined. Dejected, sure, and sad, but… determined.
Augustus had a million questions he’d never ask.
Again, Harmonia looked at him with that absent look in her eyes. When her gaze focused, she stared at him for a few seconds and opened her mouth. Once more, she hesitated, closed her mouth, and looked away again.
“Are you thirsty, darling? I can order some more champagne-” She turned towards the small screen by her bedside table. “I am parched . Can’t keep up with the youth anymore, oh my!”
It was true that there were probably about… fifteen or twenty years between them. She’d never had difficulty before, though. Augustus did most of the work anyway.
“Sure, Monie.” He made sure to keep his tone casual and careless. “Can’t stay long, though. Cash and Gloss will be done with their evaluations soon. I should be there.”
In previous years, Harmonia would have protested, saying Cash and Gloss were already victors and did not need him to mentor them.
Now, Lucretia just said, “Of course, of course.”
It was all very alarming, but at least he’d be out of her grasp soon. There weren’t all that many preparations left to do, of course. Still, it would probably be good to meet up with Opal, Leander, and Augustus to estimate how much sponsor money they’d have coming in. Having a plan of expenses and potential purchases was always good, even before seeing the arena.
Hermonia’s behaviour actually reminded him of Demetrius, in a way.
Not that he despised Demetrius like he despised Harmonia. The comparison was insulting, actually, because Demetrius was a perfectly pleasant person. It was just… the suspicious behaviour that he recognised. He was nowhere near as obvious, of course, or as alarming, but there was definitely something there. However, instead of clearly wanting to tell Augustus something, Demetrius very clearly wanted to ask something. There was just a slight difference in energy and hesitation, which made Augustus think that. He didn’t know for sure; he just… felt it.
So, as usual, he assumed he was right.
The champagne arrived, which provided a slight distraction. He sipped his drink, even as Harmonia started talking grandly about her preparations for a Games viewing party she always attended. Making a splash was always important, of course, and she wanted to make sure that everyone remembered exactly how impressive she could be. Then, she mentioned she hadn’t yet received her usual invitation, but she was certain that Ephigenea Price just had a lot on her plate and would get around to sending them soon.
It was a bit… pathetic.
Augustus tuned her out again and allowed his thoughts to return to his little District Two conundrum.
Demetrius seemed a little out of his depth and not with the mentoring gig. Maybe Augustus was a bit primed to see him as a little lost because of the difference in age and experience. Demetrius was twenty and new to all of this, while Augustus was twenty-six and very much a veteran. He wouldn’t go as far as to call Demetrius a kid, and Augustus acknowledged that he was a victor and worthy of respect. Even so, while Everdeen and Mellark were the newest victors, Demetrius was the second newest. That left an impression.
So, Demetrius might be out of his depth, or it might just be Augustus’ impression of him.
Either way, Augustus was sure he wasn’t imagining the aborted attempts at enquiry. Demetrius was wary by nature, it seemed- cautious, reserved . Yet when they spent time together, he could feel that hesitation and curiosity hanging in the air. It gave him away despite his silence and his stoic expression. Call it Augustus’ sixth sense. Instincts. Whatever. He could practically smell that Demetrius wanted to know something, was curious about something, and wasn’t asking about it. If he wasn’t asking, there had to be a reason for that, right? Because there was an explanation for Demetrius to seek guidance from him: they were coordinating the logistical part of the career alliance. If there was anything Demetrius wanted to know, he could ask. The worst Augustus could do was refuse to answer. Demetrius didn’t ask, though; he just observed . That had to mean something about what he wanted to ask. That had to mean that what he wanted to ask had nothing to do with their mentoring tasks.
Now, Augustus was far from shy, but he was getting rather tired of being watched without anything coming of it. He was getting tired of knowing there was something people wanted to say to him or ask him but never doing it. With Harmonia, he wanted to get away from it. With Demetrius, he wanted to get it over with.
Maybe Augustus should worry about it being something incriminating. He did worry about it being something incriminating, actually.
He was also just more curious than worried.
More tired and annoyed than worried.
More eager for something to happen than worried.
More frustrated and tired and heartsick than worried.
“Monie, will you call the automobile? I really have to go now.”
When Liv got back from her evaluation, she found District Eight’s apartments as crowded as ever. She didn’t quite know when they decided that Seven would be there constantly during their downtime, but she liked the development. It wasn’t just Johanna- Blight and their two mentors tended to show up as well. Jo liked to pretend they weren’t there because if anyone in the world could carry a grudge, it was her. At least she hadn’t kicked them out. That was probably because she knew it was best to have them close for coordination and planning than because of any affection on her part, but that would have to do.
“How did your evaluation go?” Liv asked her, heading first towards Woof to check up on him.
“Terrible. The Gamemakers have no sense of humour.” Jo looked positively gleeful. “Blight decided to go the gross way and showed off his bondage skills on a dummy.”
“I should’ve asked for a volunteer,” he lamented.
Liv snorted, stroking a hand over her grandfather’s back. “How about you, old timer? How did your evaluation go?”
Woof blinked up at her, seemingly only half present. He seemed a bit distressed at her question. “Was that what that was?”
“Yeah.” She nodded easily. “Nobody took it seriously, though, so no need to worry.”
“Oh,” Woof mumbled. “The room was messy. I tidied up.”
Liv’s heart clenched. “I’m sure they appreciated the gesture.”
The mood in the room dropped a little, but Liv refused to let that dictate the rest of the afternoon. The evaluations were moronic and pointless, and none of the victors gave a shit about their scores. She refused to let Woof feel bad about it. They all knew he’d get a bad score; that was just how things were, but it still had an emotional impact. They were still being judged with the intention to affect how the audience perceived them. It was still meant to have an effect.
Liv refused to let anyone think less of Woof just because he was old now. Age came with changes and limitations- but in the world they lived, age was something to be celebrated. They dared to judge him when they were the ones killing him? She felt angrier about that than about almost anything else that was going on. Woof was one of the best people she’d ever met, and he was special and important to her, and they just thought to… coo at his confusion and watch him die? An old man helpless and lost in a killer arena was entertaining to them?
No, she’d decided what she wanted to talk to Caesar about. It’d need some polishing and planning, but if they thought she was going in there without saying her piece about this, they had another thing coming.
“Speaking of gestures,” Jax changed the subject. “Two came by.”
He came to stand beside her, leaning back against the table. His hand brushed hers- there was something between his fingers.
“I think it was just symbolic, but he made an offer of alliance.”
“Leander?” Liv asked, feigning ignorance as Jax slipped a small piece of paper into her hand.
“No, the new one. Demetrius.”
“And he wants us?” That was a big lie. What was he doing?
“No, just you.”
Liv’s stomach soured a little, even though she knew it was probably all a ruse.
She used Woof’s sitting form as a shield to unfold the paper. A quick glance revealed that it wasn’t in Jax’s handwriting, which meant that the note probably came directly from Demetrius.
It said roof .
She and Demetrius had had conversations alone on the roof in the past.
That was easier said than done now, though. She wasn’t a mentor any more; her movements were far more limited than they used to be. Crossing paths with another district’s mentor would get them in a lot of trouble- she could only be around them if their tributes were also present, under the guise of coordinating alliances. Even if the roof was less surveilled than other areas, it was still not foolproof. There was no way he didn’t know that. If he still wanted to meet and talk, then there had to be a good reason for it, right? Was she being too trusting? Or was there something serious he wanted to discuss? What if she didn’t show up and she missed out on something important?
Was she willing to run this risk?
A very particular moment came to mind, though. Last year. Liv had almost forgotten, but now it felt clear as day. She and Jo had been on the roof, enjoying themselves and enjoying each other. Then, suddenly, alarmingly, Everdeen and Mellark had shown up to argue. None of them had gotten in trouble. Sure, they hadn’t revealed themselves, but they’d been at the same place at the same time. Liv and Jo had overheard them. If people just… accidentally crossed paths and overheard each other…
Hm.
That could be something. As long as they weren’t recorded… Maybe?
Liv licked over her teeth, a nervous tick that Johanna always recognised. She could feel Jo’s eyes laser in on her immediately.
“Hey,” Liv said. “How about we go to the roof a bit, babe? Just- enjoy the sun for a bit before dinner? For old times’ sake.”
Johanna stared at her for a second before nodding. “Yeah, sure. Sounds good.”
Liv leaned down and kissed the top of Woof’s head. “We’ll be back in a bit, okay? You relax for now.”
“Go do what you need to do, Livvie.” Woof patted her hand lightly. “I think I’ll have a cup of tea…”
Right.
Liv nodded to herself. It wouldn’t do to linger. There was no mention in the note of when Demetrius would meet her on the roof, so she assumed it was a general as soon as possible . They all had places to be, and the other Careers would notice if he were missing during dinner. So, best not to take too long.
In the elevator, Liv turned to Jo and wrapped around her. Jo, always enthusiastic to make out and perceptive to Liv’s moods, responded by pressing in close and nuzzling into her neck. While Liv would’ve liked nothing more than to indeed be going up to the roof to make out for a while, she figured Jo deserved an explanation for this whole ordeal. That she did while pressing kisses into Jo’s skin, whispering lowly so no camera could catch a single syllable.
“Demetrius wants to meet,” she told Jo. “Sounded urgent.”
Jo grunted, slipping her hands under Liv’s shirt. “Like that night with Twelve?”
Clearly, great minds tended to think alike.
Liv hummed in agreement- just as the elevator doors opened.
The roof layout was familiar. The elevator exit faced one edge of the building, with flower beds surrounding its structure. Benches lined the roof's edges, and one particularly large empty area was designated as a landing spot for the jet that took tributes to the arena.
Johanna dragged her towards the flowerbeds, where they could lay out of sight between the tall grass and other plants as they had been doing for years. Liv didn’t know how long they would have to wait- but as soon as they’d settled, Liv heard heavy footsteps and loud breathing coming their way. She ducked down, holding up a hand to alert Jo of what she heard, only for Demetrius to pass them by seconds later.
He was running laps along the edge of the roof.
Well, that was one way to seem inconspicuous. Nothing to see here; he’d just decided to work out outside instead of down in the windowless gymnasium. That could be a plausible explanation.
How long had he been running, though?
Now, all that was left to figure out was how to get his attention.
Jo held up a finger in Olivia’s face and reached out to one of the nearby plants. It was a bush of some sort or a small tree. Either way, it was low enough to provide them some cover amongst the raised planterboxes. The plant was currently not in bloom, with dark purple leaves… maybe a sand cherry? Jo held on to one of the branches until she spotted Demetrius approaching again. Then, with impeccable timing, she snapped it, creating a sound loud enough to hear but low enough to appear accidental.
Demetrius came to a halt, eyes snapping over to them, and then made a show of settling down to do cooling-down exercises just a few feet away from them.
They couldn’t take too long.
“What?” She hissed.
Demetrius grunted as he stretched and then spoke under his breath. “I’m with Lyme.”
Johanna’s eyebrows pulled together- probably not because she didn’t understand, but because they didn’t have any confirmation of Lyme being part of the rebellion. They just had Liv’s impression of her and hoped there would be some sort of organisation there. Whatever was going on in two was far more subtle than anyone had expected; Heavensbee hadn’t found anyone to connect with just yet.
“So?” Jo countered.
“So, we know there’s stuff going on. There must be.” Demetrius threw a few punches between sit-ups. “We just have no intel. No way to reach out.”
They could have someone reach out to Demetrius and Lyme once they were gone to the arena. They could loop them in that way. It was just risky. There was no guarantee that Demetrius was telling the truth. If they had someone reach out to him or Lyme, and this turned out to be false, then the entire network would be at risk. However, if they didn’t reach out, they ran the risk of leaving Two out of the alliance altogether, which would be unacceptable. Two was important because they produced weapons and peacekeepers: helping the resistance in Two would destabilise all of that for the Capitol and give them an advantage. Two was also a district like the rest of them; they deserved freedom just like everyone else.
Would they have to take a leap of faith?
Had Demetrius not taken a leap of faith by asking her about this? He had probably just guessed that she'd be involved if something were going on. It was a good guess and also a point in his favour. She wouldn't be alive today if the Capitol had shared that guess. One more educated guess would connect her presumed insurgent tendencies to all her friends and family; they would all have been arrested ages ago.
“What’s been going on in Two?” Liv asked, trying to buy some time.
“A lot of death,” he answered. “Something happened somewhere. There was- we just heard that hundreds had died, even more reservists were called up and sent off in a hurry, and we never got any explanation about it. Lyme had me trying to get intel from my dad and other peacekeeper officers, but… I couldn’t get anything.”
Unfortunately, Liv knew exactly what had happened there.
She could feel Jo’s eyes stabbing into the side of her face. Liv had told her very little about what had happened, and they hadn’t had much time to discuss anything in the few days since their reunion. Jo did know, however, that something big had happened in Eight, and she could put two and two together.
“What’s Lyme been doing?” Liv pressed further. “How organised are you guys? What’s the mood in Two?”
Never mind that by entertaining this conversation, she was practically confirming her involvement in the rebellion.
“Everyone’s angry; they just don’t exactly know at whom. There’s… a general feeling of having been attacked, of having lost a lot of people, without having gotten any retribution for it. Or a resolution.” Demetrius leaned back on his hands, still looking away from them. “The’s one side of the district that’s been looking to rebel for years. There’s a lot of loyalists in the factories, though, and in the peacekeeper training facil-”
He cut himself off. Liv could see the tension in his back as he struggled not to turn around.
“Do you know we train peacekeepers?”
Of course, they did. Liv had figured it out when Clayton’s friend slipped, sure. She’d connected it to the fact that Two’s industry seemed oddly detached from masonry during her Victory Tour and passed on that information to Paylor, who had passed it on to Thirteen and Heavensbee, who had passed it on to the other allied districts. It was common knowledge amongst the rebellion now… but that was bound to be unexpected.
“Yeah,” she answered. “And I know what happened. You’re not gonna like it.”
Demetrius was silent for a few seconds before waving a hand. “I’m not liking anything I hear lately anyway.”
Right.
But this was bad, actually. How would he reconcile that these were people from his home that Eight had fought against? That peacekeepers trained in Two were the main forces of oppression around all of Panem? Sure, they weren’t everyone. There were people from all districts desperate enough to become peacekeepers, though they were few. Still, they were the largest part. Would he be so angry that he would turn on them for what happened? Or would he understand that they tried to spare as many as they could?
Would he understand that the reason they all died was because the Capitol bombed them?
“There was an uprising in Eight,” she admitted. “We managed to take the Justice Building, the Garrison, the power plant, and so on. For a few days. Some peacekeepers were killed in the attack. We tried to avoid as many deaths as possible, but it was war.”
Johanna’s nails dug into her shoulders. Liv hadn’t told her she’d been in the front lines, but she would as soon as they were in private. As soon as Liv could whisper things into her skin and hide from the world for a few hours.
“You killed -” Demetrius made a choked sound. “ All -”
“ No, ” Liv hurried to correct him. “No, of course not. As few as we could. We already knew they were from Two, so we- you’re our brothers and sisters; we don’t want to fight you if we can avoid it-”
“Not a single one made it back, Olivia. Hundreds died. What do you mean as few as you could ?”
“Most were still alive when we took the garrison.” She half wanted Demetrius to turn around so she could look into his eyes to show she meant it, but he was refusing to do so. Whether that was to keep up a ruse or because he couldn’t look at her, she didn’t know. “I swear they were. There were less than fifty losses. I heard the report myself. But then- then the Capitol hit back.”
There was a tense silence for a handful of moments before Demetrius asked, “What did they do?”
How to word this in a way that would hurt in the right way, but without sounding callous? It had been horrible. She’d seen the fire and the smoke; she’d smelled the blood in the air and felt the heat on her skin despite the distance. For days, there’d been ash in the wind, and she hadn’t known if she was breathing in the remains of a building or a person.
She didn’t like to think about it. The horror was imprinted on her bones; she didn’t think it would ever go away.
“They bombed the garrison, thinking they would get all of us. We’d mostly evacuated already, but we kept the captured peacekeepers there. We thought-” Liv’s throat closed, and she had to take a breath. “We thought they’d come from the walls or over land some other way. Maybe they’d drop attack squads. We didn’t think they’d just… carpet-bomb the entire complex. We thought they’d care that they still had people in there or wouldn’t want to run the risk of killing their own, but they just-”
Liv’s eyes burned as she watched a spasm run through Demetrius. Slowly, he brought his hands up to hold his head, hunched in on himself. She was suddenly glad she couldn’t see his face. The pain he must be experiencing, knowing those were his district’s people who perished, was not something she wanted to witness. Had he known any of them? Had he had friends amongst them? Did he know the families?
They hadn’t been given any explanation for their dead children. None at all.
At least in the Hunger Games, they knew exactly what had happened.
“ I’m sorry, ” she said. “I really am. We didn’t- we think they either didn’t know whether there were survivors and didn’t care that there might be, or they guessed that there could be some and… and didn’t want witnesses. Didn’t want word of an uprising getting out.”
Demetrius still said nothing.
Had he understood that he and his were just expendable to the Capitol? Meat shields, all they were to the Capitol—consumable goods. Useful tools. Mass-produced to be loyal and deadly, but ultimately replaceable and disposable.
“We should go,” she said. He needed time to process all of this, and they couldn’t afford to spend too much time in the same place anyway. They didn’t want to draw attention to this possible rendezvous. “Is there anything else we should know? Anything about the Games, anything at all?”
Demetrius was breathing roughly, and his knuckles were white where he was gripping his head. This wasn’t the time to ask him to think straight, but there really was no other opportunity to get anything out of him. She knew they’d reach out to him and to Lyme, but if there was anything else…
Finally, he looked up. He didn’t look back; he just looked out into the sky, but it was enough change to draw her attention.
“They- they vanished for a while.”
“ What? Who?”
“After training yesterday… Brutus didn’t come back right away. Enobaria said he left before she did but didn’t return until later. Close to dinner. He didn’t volunteer anything about where he went, so we didn’t ask.” Demetrius clicked his tongue. He sounded numb. Absent. “Enobaria disappeared for a while today, too. She should’ve returned while I went up to talk to Jax, but she only got back about an hour after I did.”
Liv looked back at Johanna. Jo’s eyes were fixed on the back of Demetrius’ head as if she could force all the answers out of him that way. She didn’t offer an opinion, a guess, or even an expression to indicate she had thoughts on the matter. She just looked very alert. Alarmed, even.
It just- what could that be?
Clients?
Just for a few hours? Not even overnight?
As far as Liv knew, it’d been a while since either of them got sold. Brutus and Enobaria weren’t precisely prime choices anymore. It wasn’t impossible that an old flame had bought a short while with them, though. Now that they were going into the arena again, some people might be eager to get a last shot at them. However, Finnick hadn’t gotten sold, and he had the most admirers out of all of them. If he wasn’t on the menu, then there was no way any other tribute would be. Lu hadn’t even received permission to be here that one time; she snuck in.
So where had Brutus and Enobaria gone?
Or had they gone somewhere? Maybe they were just here on the roof? Why wouldn’t they say so if they had? Was it just a coincidence that they’d both vanished for a while?
What?
There weren’t many places Liv and Jo could have conversations where could be certain they wouldn’t be overheard. The roof was one of them if they were placed close together and talking lowly, but the roof had been occupied by Demetrius, who clearly needed the space to process. So, they had gone to one of the next best places- the shower. The bathrooms were rarely surveilled in other buildings, and even if they were surveilled in the Training Centre, it was unlikely that there would be anything in the showers. On top of that, the water tended to cover most sounds- sex, conversations, you name it.
Bathrooms were always the go-to location for private conversations.
The first thing they discussed was Brutus and Enobaria’s brief disappearances. They agreed, though, that they had very little to go off on. All they knew was that Demetrius had briefly lost track of them separately, and there had been no explanation. While it seemed suspicious, and both of their guts said it was important, there was really no way for them to draw any conclusions from the little they knew. There was also no way to find out more. Neither of them was close to Brutus or Enobaria, and approaching them would be suspicious.
After the morning’s conversation with Cashmere and Gloss, Liv doubted she could ask them either.
That… also felt off. Liv told Jo about it. They had been acting weird. They’d implied something was going on, but truly, they had told her nothing… and now this?
It was all just suspicious.
“Forget all that,” Jo cut her off after a while. “Tell me about that attack. In your note, you said- you were scared. You thought you might die. Were you in the thick of it?”
Liv bit the inside of her cheek, hesitating. “At the front.”
Above them, hot water fell heavily over them. The air was thick with humidity and steam; it’d fogged up the glass shower completely, and nobody outside would be able to see them if they entered the bathroom. That way, they could curl up together, naked at the bottom of the shower, without a single worry in the world.
Liv kind of liked it, being able to curl up together and be together, naked and wet, without it having to turn into anything. They could just be. Sex, as much as they enjoyed it, wasn’t everything.
“At the front -” Johanna’s eyes hardened, and she gripped Liv’s hands tighter. “What, exactly, does that mean?”
“The Commander’s probably still fuming about me volunteering. She was counting on me for… leadership. Squads, teams, all that.” Liv shrugged, letting Johanna hold on as tightly as she needed to. “I led a small team during our attack on the garrison. Well, I helped plan the whole thing, but my particular role when it happened was cutting off communications with the Capitol. Getting to the tower and stopping the broadcast. Then, I helped with logistics until I was ordered to evacuate.”
“And then they bombed it.”
Liv swallowed. “And then they bombed it. In the middle of the night, in the centre of the village. All of it turned to dust: the garrison, the Justice Building, and a handful of apartment buildings bordering them.”
“Fucking-” Johanna clenched her eyes shut, leaning her head down and onto Liv’s shoulder. “And they told you to evacuate?”
“The plan wasn’t to keep control of it for any long period. We just wanted to take weapons, destroy the cameras, all that. So, as soon as we could spare the manpower, we sent people home. Only a handful of us stayed behind to give the impression we were still fighting. We kept the peacekeepers there, hundreds of them , along with the Head Peacekeeper and the Mayor…”
That had been the plan, but the Capitol hadn’t even tried to take back the building. They could’ve evacuated everyone and saved all those lives, and the Capitol wouldn’t have known. If they had guessed that Snow would bomb them instead of fighting them… then, maybe, hundreds could have lived.
“And then-” Liv suddenly couldn’t stop talking. She needed Johanna to know- she needed to share some of the horror she’d seen. She wanted to draw the filth from the infected wound left behind. “And then, they moved in. They didn’t let anyone dig for survivors. They locked down the district; anyone out of their home would be shot on sight. It didn’t matter if they’d run out of food or if they needed medical aid- I had to be home. I couldn’t stay with Cece-”
That week had been one of the worst weeks of her life, and there had been many terrible weeks. Her Games had lasted a bit over two weeks, and she still couldn’t quite decide what had been worse.
“For a whole week, we only saw the daily executions. I was told people in the district talked to each other from the windows or down building hallways. They tossed each other cans of food or loaves of bread. They weren’t as isolated. The houses in the Victors’ Village, though…”
Liv swallowed, cutting herself off for a bit.
Johanna took that opportunity to ask, “The people they executed. Did you know any of them?”
Did she know any of them?
Olivia coughed out a small laugh, feeling her eyes suddenly overflow. It didn’t matter if she was crying; they were in the shower, it wasn’t visible… and even if it were, why would she be embarrassed about crying? There was nothing wrong with crying, especially for people she loved, and least of all in front of her girlfriend.
Crying always just felt so futile. Pointless tears that got nothing done.
“Yeah,” Liv whispered. One had been a kind stranger on a terrible night, a man who knew her father. Another had been a comrade, a woman Liv had fought with and trusted. Mrs. Wallis had been unlike both of them. Kind, brave, and always looking after every single child in her care. Compassionate and patient to a fault. She’d always given Liv an extra breakfast bun on reaping days. She had also been entirely innocent. Uninvolved and unaware of anything that had been going on. “Cott. Mauve. Mrs. Wallis. All the other attendants.”
“They executed the orphanage matron ?”
“They said… if we don’t value what they give us, they’ll take it away.”
Johanna slammed her hand onto the wet tiles, cursing loudly. “Pieces of shit .”
Liv nodded miserably, feeling her entire body slump, and wiped futilely at her face. The shower and the tears kept pouring; it didn’t make a single bit of difference.
She’d already mourned everyone they lost. She’d mourned with Cece. She’d mourned with her friends. She’d mourned with strangers on the streets. She’d mourned for months. Olivia was intimately familiar with grief; she knew how it worked by now. It was rarely a huge, overwhelming hole. In her case, it was a permanent bruise. It was there, it ached, and it hindered her movements, but ultimately, she lived with it just fine until she somehow bumped into it, and everything came crashing down. That was how it had been with Nigel, then her father, her mother, Ethan, and now everyone they lost during the attack and its aftermath. There was always so much going on that grief couldn’t be a hole; it could only be a bruise.
Unfortunately, she had just bumped the bruise. It would ache for days now until it settled down again into that… numb ache in the back of her mind. Or, it would ache until the countdown ended and the bloodbath started. It would ache until she had to focus. Then, it would fade into the background, ready to overwhelm her once more when she finally thought she could breathe.
“We’ll get them for it. I fucking swear we will-” Jo grabbed her face, making Liv look up at her. “You know that, right?”
“Either we will, or someone will do it for us.” Liv shrugged. They couldn’t forget that they were headed into the Quell- their survival to exact vengeance personally was not a very likely outcome. “I know. I- I am angry about it. Of course I am. I just-”
“You process things differently, I know.” Johanna sighed and kissed her forehead. “Can’t always have my way, I suppose. As much as I prefer seeing you angry to seeing you sad… I know you well enough to manage my expectations by now.”
Liv offered her a wry smile and squeezed one of Jo’s hands. “Thank you. I love you.”
Jo huffed. “Sap.” Then, she got to her feet, pulling Olivia along with her. “Come on, or they’ll start dinner without us. I do not want to hear any stamina jokes about this long-ass shower.”
As they left the shower, Liv evaluated her emotional state. Was she tired, or was she relieved? Maybe a little bit of both. At least it was out now, and she knew it was a burden Johanna would help her carry. At least, she didn't have to die with all of that still pressing down on her chest.
The evaluation scores were as predictable as they were annoying. It was a part of the Games they were all familiar with, but that didn’t make a single bit of difference. While their evaluations during their first Games had all been laced with tension and expectation, these just felt more than a little ridiculous. It’d been hard to take it seriously when they had to perform, and it was even harder now. Flickerman and Templesmith made a spectacle of it, of course, discussing each score in depth and even going so far as comparing their new scores with their first scores and showing bits of their original Games to support their arguments.
The casual dehumanisation of twenty-four people who were about to die was not surprising. They’d experienced it personally before, they’d witnessed it every year since, and they’d mentored children through it. They were all still dehumanised every year since winning, albeit in different ways.
None of that made Johanna feel any less disoriented. Looking around the full dining room, she could tell she wasn’t the only one struggling with it.
As always, the crowd consisted of the victors from Four, Seven, and Eight. Their Capitol Escorts, stylists, and stylist teams were not in attendance. They never were. They weren’t welcome, and they knew it.
Her score had been much higher than the first time around. She’d only gotten a five during her first Games, which she’d done on purpose. She’d sacrificed sponsors to be able to pass as weak and frightened. When she’d been freezing, she’d questioned how wise that choice had been. Of course, it’d paid off eventually, but it had been unpleasant .
Now, she’d gotten a nine. Considering all she’d done was make dirty jokes for fifteen minutes, she didn’t think she’d get a favourable score. Most of the Gamemakers had looked furious most of the time, though they’d settled in their seats and ignored her after a while. Heavensbee had just stood there in silence, watching her, and asked her to leave once her time ran out.
Undoubtedly, they’d based her score on whatever they’d seen during the previous training days.
Maybe it’d been the sparring yesterday that had done it.
“Well, not bad.” Jo shrugged, leaning back in her seat. She turned to look at Liv, who was eating a frankly stupid amount of chicken, and wagged her eyebrows. “You got the same score. Think they’re letting us match because they’re romantic?”
“Sure. The Gamemakers wanted to let us match,” Liv snorted. Thankfully, her mood had lifted since they’d left the bathroom. “Both of our scores went up. Who would’ve known?”
“I’m surprised you both didn’t get a bit higher, actually,” Finnick added. “You’re both older, stronger, more experienced, and you showed you got better with your chosen weapons.”
“I’m pretty sure they just couldn’t give you higher.” Tetra had been writing down the scores and underlined a few of them. “Finnick and Brutus got eleven. Those are very high scores- and higher than they both got the first time around. Cashmere, Gloss, and Enobaria got ten. High scores, but differentiating them from Finnick and Brutus. They’re all trained Careers; they couldn’t put either of you on the same level as them because you’re not on the same level as them.”
“Every one of you was evaluated against the other tributes in your Games. Tributes are always scored relative to each other. A nine in Liv’s Games wasn’t the same as a nine in Finnick’s Games because you didn’t have the same competition.” Jax peered over Tetra’s shoulder to look at the list she was making. “Now, you’re all scored against each other. They had to make a difference between skilled Victor, Career Victor, and skilled Career Victor. The scores make sense.”
Liv hummed, reaching out to pour Woof some more tea.
Woof had only gotten a four. It was only slightly higher than Mags’s three, which was probably because he was just stronger in body. Mags was sounder of mind. Neither had hoped for a high score, but it was still just… a bit mean.
It felt mean.
“Now, for the last Victors of the evening! Our dear star-crossed lovers! Katniss and Peeta- what will it be?” Caesar was practically vibrating in his seat as he waited for the scores to appear until their pictures. He drummed his hands on the table for a few seconds until-
“Fuck,” Finnick exclaimed.
The room broke out in chaos, with exclamations, questions, and complaints echoing loudly in the room.
Twelves. Two twelves, right there under the youngest victors’ faces.
“What was that about scores making sense?” Liv asked, rubbing her hands over her face. “This is insane. What the fuck? ”
“They must have done something,” Jo complained, getting to her feet to start pacing. “What did they do? ”
“Who knows?! Whatever they did, they pissed off the Gamemakers something fucking terrible.” Blithe threw back his drink, motioning with a hand. “But they just made our life so much harder. How the fuck are we supposed to-”
“Can we still talk to Haymitch? Can someone corner him in the morning?”
“For what? This is done- Brutus is gonna go after them like-” Finnick, of course, was the most stressed out of all of them. He had to keep them safe from the Career pack all by himself until Liv and Jo reunited with him. “How the fuck?!”
“When I get my hands on those fucking brats-” Johanna sat herself down on Olivia’s lap, throwing her hands up. “And here I was starting to like Mellark. I thought he had a brain! Motherfucking- ”
Behind her, Liv buried her face in Johanna’s neck and groaned.