007 || Dear Brother

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CHAPTER SEVEN —    Dear Brother ..

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          Albert has always been a mindlessly avid user of the pine tree scented cologne, thus making it into his sister's least favorite perfume to ever exist without much of an effort. His excessive wear of it left behind a nauseating trail, but the true challenge for Daphne laid not in walking behind him, yet in actually standing next to her brother without turning pale or, Heaven's mercy, green.

"And who do you fancy in this year's games?" The interviewer excitedly moved on to the next question, and simply for the fact that politeness required it of him, Albert kept silent and allowed his sister to answer first while he kept his hands behind his back and smiled into the camera, rehearsing in his mind his own already prepared replies. Appearances had to always be kept in front of cameras.

Daphne inched forward to the microphone with a serenity that almost made it undeniable that she was by all means a fan of the televised Games, not one of its most resilient critics. "I'm rooting for District 2 this year, but I will be watching intently for 12's performance, for as long as it should last. It's not every day that we get to reminisce together the times when we gathered together for circus performances and marveled at jolly artists at work, maneuvering animals and they, themselves, looking the part of someone ripped from a children's fantasy book. Lucy Gray is a character that reminds me of those days. I can almost smell the popcorn just by looking at her and I bet I am not the only one in that situation. But what's true is true, I do firmly believe District 2 has the best odds to be the last one standing."

She leant back and gestured with a brief glance upwards that Albert could now take his turn. His reaction had been so immediate that it sure felt as if her eyes had pressed an invisible button, suddenly widening his smile and bringing motion into his limbs. Albert not only stepped closer to the microphone, but closer to his sister as well, dropping his heavy right arm around her shoulders to not allow her to refuse this invasion of personal space.

"That's my little sister for you, folks, a sentimental, gentle thing," he laughed it off, earning a couple of chuckles from the news broadcast workers behind the cameras. "I am, however, but a pragmatic bore when compared to her, as I happen to look towards the tributes from District 4 and District 11 this year. They may not be as colorful and lively as the 12 girl, but I assure you, colorful and lively don't last long into the Games. I doubt that soft songbird will be singing much once she finds herself fighting for her life."

Daphne brought her own hands behind her back too, only so she may tighten them into fists without worrying anyone will notice. It was not caprice, but a need — the anger Albert kept digging up in her had to go someplace else before it influenced her camera-fitted smile.

"Well, it's obvious why District 11," the interviewer noted. "But why 4? Any particular reason behind it?"

"I would argue it's not all that obvious. Allow me to explain," Albert spoke slowly, sliding his arm from around Daphne and thus moving to cover all access to the microphone, leaving her behind him. "This year I find myself caring about the Games and about guessing which tribute might have better chances at coming out alive on the other side only through the influence of a middling agent. Our infamously intelligent Game Creator, Casca Highbottom has initiated within his Academy a Mentoring porgram for his top twenty-four students to engage into. I only bring myself to make assumptions on the tributes based on the capabilities of our Capitol's brightest minds that will be representing them in our eyes, which is why I am so certain, had my sister been a Mentor, I would have bet a good fortune her tribute won."

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