Twenty Four Shades of Blood [A Hunger Games Fanfic]

Interviews: Districts One-Six

 "Ladies and gentlemen of the Capitol!"

A few people pause to reflect on whether it would be possible for them to have found a cheesier voiceover. Most people hush, dropping instantly into a tense, excited silence. Or close to silence, anyway; the ruffle of heavy fabrics floats through the air. Coloured searchlights roam the skies. Stagelights flash in a rainbow explosion, and every single eye in Panem is, somehow, turned towards the stage.

"Introducing to you the new host of the Hunger Games...Lancelot Saturday!"

Lancelot bursts onto the stage with his arms flung wide, beaming. The lights are gloriously blinding through his glasses - his PA has urged him several times to wear contacts but the multi-coloured lenses are part of his look now - and even with the helpful earbuds, the screams are deafening. Everybody in Panem is looking at him. It's brilliant.

He bows a few times to the crowd, bouncing along the front of the stage and waving at random people. This is his moment, what he's been waiting for for years.

"Hello Capitol!" he shouts, the microphone stitched into his suit picking it up perfectly and beaming it out over the writing mass. The response is exactly as expected, but still overwhelming and he puts his hands over his ears, pulling a face to make people laugh.

"Hello Lance!" chirps a bright female voice from in the wings. Startled, he whirls around; Tile dances onto the stage, twirling and laughing. He can't help a burst of annoyance - this is his scene, after all - but it's impossible to be mad at Tile for long and he laughs with surprise as she pulls him into a vanilla-scented hug. "I came to wish you luck on your debut!" she exclaims happily, with a well placed wink into the cameras. The crowd love this, going crazier than before, somehow.

Ah, now he gets it. They've given him a partner, somebody to bounce off if he flounders. Nice of them, though he won't be needing it. Still, he's glad it's Tile.

 "Well, shall we get going then?" he asks. She nods enthusiastically; the crowd roar their approval. With a quick glance into the wings, he sees Austin bobbing up and down on the spot, ready to go. The spectrum of the crowd are ready. 

"Yes, I think we should!" Tile teases, flicking her hair expertly, linking her arm through his and bouncing on the balls of her feet. He grins. This is it, Lancelot. Everybody is looking at you now!

"Right then! Let's get this show on the road!"

The noise nearly blows his glasses off.

"So we'll start in District One with Austen Hughes and a training score of...10!"

 Austen grins and bounds out onto the stage, settling himself comfortably onto the chair provided. Tile jumps straight into another one - he really should have noticed that before - curling herself up in an energetic little ball, and leaving Lancelot to shake hands with Austen.

Austen grips as hard as he can, revelling in the wince that crosses the interviewer's face. Lancelot is being dramatic about it, he can tell, to make him seem stronger, but that's definitely a good thing. He can't believe the noise. All these people, cheering for him. It makes the training worth it just for that alone.

"So, Austen, that training score!" Lancelot begins, "Yay or nay?"

"Yay, definite yay!" Austen replies immediately. There are so many people! And now the buzz is starting to die down a bit, they're all waiting on him to deliver. To his own disgust, his palms are sweating and his hands are shaking slightly. He can't be nervous. They've been trained to not be nervous.

"I guess you can't tell us how you got it..."

"Even if I could, I won't!" he retorts. Lancelot glances to Tile; his mind has gone blank! What should he say now? She grins at him and throws herself into the brink, treating Austen to a bright, slightly flirty smile. "Oh, come on now!" she wheedles, "I'm sure a boy like you has enough talents that you can just tell us one...right?"