The Rebel Victor | I [THG]

Chapter Fifteen | the Fiesty Pearl

"Just remember, Finnick and I will be right out there. Pretend you're talking to us," Ciruss assured her as a peacekeeper stood a few feet away, waiting to bring Ciruss to his seat.

Quinn felt her hands tighten around each other. She already wasn't a Capitol favorite, how was she supposed to pretend that nobody knew about her private session? How was she supposed to make them like her after she through two spears at a target labeled with the name of their President.

Quinn sighed and warily looked at the peacekeeper as the familiar introduction music played as Caesar introduced Arkon for his interview. "I don't know if you want me to do that..." she said quietly, "How'd you get through this?"

"I played a part," he said equally as quiet as he placed a hand on each of her shoulders. "Just..." he paused, "Don't make promises, okay?"

Quinn nodded a bit, "And you will be with Finnick? Will I be able to see you?"

He nodded, "All the stylists and mentors are in the same area," he stated. "You'll be able to look right at us if you want."

"Mr. Hayeden," the peacekeeper said aloud, breaking their conversation.

Ciruss sighed and gave Quinn's shoulders a squeeze, "Remember, smile, wave, and smile some more." he reminded her as he softly brushed past her.

The peacekeeper left with Ciruss, leaving her on the side of the stage with nothing else but Arkons interview booming through the screen that she wasn't even looking at. With each word, her feet became heavier and heavier. What was she supposed to say to make her a favorite with her low ranking already?

"And now," Caesar said loudly after a dramatic laugh. "You know her, as the young lady from District Four, and you will know her as the fiesty pearl of District Four! Ladies and gentlemen,"

Quinn felt her stomach drop, as she took a few more steps towards the stage entrance.

"Quinn Maverick from District Four!"

That was your cue, she thought to herself.

Caesar held a hand dramatically towards the stage entrance as the crowd began to roar. She took in a deep breath and let it out through her gritted teeth as she smiled and waved towards the crowd as she stepped into the bright lights. The lights were so bright that they flushed out the crowd-- they flushed out Finnick and Ciruss.

Smile, wave, and smile some more, she had to remind herself of that as she made her way to Caesar and red leather chairs.

"Welcome, welcome! It's wonderful to finally meet you!" Caesar smiled as he took Quinn's hand in his own.

"Me? No, I should be the one who's happy to meet you, Caesar." she said, her lips formed the words but when the words came out, they were so fake that she was positive everyone could hear it. But Caesar laughed in reply, and as did the crowd as they took a seat.

"I think we should start with the obvious," he began once the crowds cheers fell quiet. Quinn looked at him for a moment.

This is it. You have to explain why you got a lousy five...

Quinn's eyes darted out, looking for Finnick, Ciruss, Remilda, Mags-- anyone she knew.

"You look absolutely stunning," Caesar said, "Doesn't she!?"

The crowd cheered and Quinn let out a breath that she had been holding and turned back to him.

"Thank you, Caesar. My stylist out did himself, don't you think?" she replied, reapplying her smile.

He nodded, "Indeed I did," he paused, "Is it true that you have been lucky enough to have the one and only Ciruss Hayeden as your stylist this year?"

At the sound of his name, the name of the First Quarter Quell Victor sent the crowd into a frenzy.

Quinn nodded, "Yeah, I don't think I could have been luckier-- I don't know who else would have been able to fix this." she said, laughing a bit as she dramatically motioned to her face.

Caesar threw his head back in laughter, and Quinn laughed too. But uncomfortably as she squinted to look out towards the crowd, and she caught sight of Finnick and Ciruss-- the two people she had been looking for. Finnick gave her a nod as if to give her approval for her performance. Ciruss did the same.

"Now, on a more serious note-- lets start at the beginning." Caesar said, "The Reaping, District Four...what's your life like back home."

The crowd was silent for a moment. Quinn watched Finnick for a moment as an old familiar sense of anger began to fill her again. What was life like? It was hell. She lived in a warehouse, had one lousy blanket because she gave the little ones her better ones-- even those ones were garbage. None of them could get a job without getting flogged or killed by the peacekeepers. The only time they were aloud to be out and about and really mingle with other people was the Reaping!

"Well, my family died during the Small Pox epidemic," she said, she caught a glimpse of Finnick and remembered his advice-- look for pity. "And my brother..." she took a deep breath as if she was on the verge of tears. "He...he died in the sixty-fourth Hunger Games..." she said quietly.

The crowed awed and so did Caesar.

"I'm so sorry my dear, that's horrible..."

"If it's horrible, why does everyone continue to support the games?" Quinn asked in reply.

Caesar looked taken aback by the question, "What on earth do you mean?"

Quinn couldn't stop the small scoff escaping her lips. "You think it's horrible that my brother does in the games. What about all the families that lose their loved ones every year?" she asked, "You think it's entertaining to watch kids kill kids. But then you feel bad for them at the same time...it's sick."

Caesar looked lost for words so he uncomfortably adjusted his legs, "Very interesting insight, Quinn. Now, what about your private session, a five?"

Quinn nodded, "If you must know, I threw two spears at a target I labeled President Snow." she stated, "It's his fault children in Panem are considered replaceable by you people--"

Suddenly Caesar brought his hand up to his neck to signal the cameras to be turned off.

Quinn had said far too much.