24 // Being a Mentor Really Sucks

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"Oh dear. Looks like I have to go. I just got a text message saying my friend's sister's mother's grandpa's brother's grandson's uncle's goldfish just died. It's tragic" - My 6 Crazy Brothers (elinched12)

***

The train ride went by a lot smoother than the youngest mentor thought it would. Probably due to the nervous nature of both tributes. The girl, Marissa had immediately peaked the mentor's interest and she had taken it to herself to observe and access the tribute until they got to training.

The ride was mostly dedicated to eating and resting, the first piece of advice that was given to the tributes by the two young mentors. They had told them to rest it out while they could, for the Capitol would be harsh and unforgiving, besides expectant of them. Gladly, both tributes had taken the advice to heart and retreated early on to their own quarters.

"I want to train the girl." Was the first thing Aria said when she was alone with Josh, chilling on the couch as the TV played some random Capitol romance movie.

"Okay. Then I get the boy. Know what you're gonna do yet?" Came his response, trying to make the whole process as easy as possible for the younger girl, knowing the female tribute would probably last longer in the Arena, just from the impressions they had gotten that far.

"Not really. I, for one, didn't get much training from Villòn back in my tribute days. But I'll probably study her strengths and we'll work from there, focusing a lot on survival skills, which was what got me through most of my Games. But I do think that we can do some of their training together, like you and Pietro did last year. It seemed to work well enough." She suggested, saying her whole thought process aloud, trying to figure out how to train someone for the death Games.

Josh simply nodded, muttering out a quiet 'Yeah.', thinking about what the girl had said, starting to plan out his own approach for the training. He knew that some of the mentors, like Brutus, Enobaria, Cashmere and Gloss had a pattern that they stuck to, and it did work well for them, but that was mostly due to the Academies that they had in their districts, where the young people were trained from a young age in the same fighting style and way that every Victor from One and Two had won by. That method however, didn't work for most of the other Districts, including Five, where the mentors had to go by a different approach, based on the tribute they had to work with. Villòn didn't, but he only went in as a mentor because he was forced to do so, never actually trying to get close to, or help his tributes, so he didn't count.

"Okay then. Let's do it. We'll do survival together, since you seem to know a lot more about that than me, and if your tribute's specialty weapon isn't one that you're familiar with, you can send her to me for weapon training." The young man laid out the plan, getting an approving nod from the girl.

"Now that that's settled, let's go and take a nap before arriving. I'm way too tired to deal with the Capitol's bullshit for now. See you in two hours or so." The youngest Victor told her friend, walking down the corridor towards her quarters, eager to put on some more comfortable clothes and take a nice and refreshing nap before they reached their destination.

***

Fae was probably watching some nonsense Capitol-approved TV show, as she did during the other train rides the two females had together. She would invite the young girl to watch it with her, but the latter didn't really see the point in any of those shows, opting to sleep through the journey instead. She really was fond of her 'beauty sleep', as the girl would call it.

Just like the previous year, the youngest Victor was escorted by Peacekeepers to the fifth floor apartment, together with her fellow mentor and the always smiling escort. And, as she did the year before, the girl only stayed on the apartment for a short period of time, quickly leaving to the mentors lounge to see her other friends and hang out until the parade started and they had to watch it.

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