𝙄𝙛 𝙏𝙤𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙧𝙤𝙬 𝙉𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝘾𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 | 𝗖𝗮𝘁𝗼 𝗛𝗮𝗱𝗹𝗲𝘆

𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚙𝚝𝚎𝚛 𝚝𝚠𝚘

2; Arrival

"She means smile, not curl your lips and hope you don't look in pain, sweetheart."
- Haymitch Abernathy

———————————————
I TRACE THE cracks in the leather seat I sit in, already feeling homesick. The scent of sweet pastries and warm delicacies linger in the air, causing me to somewhat gag once in a while.

I stare out the window, trees and districts passing by in a blur because of how fast the train is moving, yet it feels like I'm still, on the ground. When we first boarded the train after the reaping, Peeta and I sat in silence, Effie was overflowing with words, and Haymitch drank, a lot: like usual.

My stomach growls abruptly, signaling for me to eat something since I'm coincidentally surrounded by an array of food, but I brush away the thought, not having an appetite. I stand up, my face frozen in a blank expression as I stare at the door that, oddly enough, has no handle.

I struggle for a second on how to operate the unknown contraption but soon realized it would slide open with a wave of my hand in front of its sensor.

I wonder into the next car, voices becoming clearer as I pull back a privacy curtain to reveal a dinner table, stacked with even more sweets and a few bottles of liquor that Haymitch added in the process.

Peeta sits across from the long haired man who butters a piece of toast, Effie files her unnecessarily long pink nails with perfect posture, as always, on the couch.

"Well, that's a great way to get killed." Haymitch says, pouring another glass of whiskey.

"What's a good way to get killed?" I mutter, my eyes flickering to both of them as they look up at me.

"Oh, joy, why don't you join us. I was just giving some life saving advice."

"And that is?"

"I was just asking about how to find shelter." Peeta informs me, looking up at me somewhat shyly.

"Which would be helpful if you were, in fact, still alive."

"How do you find shelter?" I ask, genuine curiosity dripping from my tone.

"Pass the jam." Our mentor sighs, pointing to the jar of purple jelly with the end of his knife.

"How do you find shelter." I repeat with more demand.

"Give me a chance to wake up sweetheart. This mentoring is very taxing stuff." He grunts, taking a swig of the bronze liquid. "Can you pass the marmalade-" He begins, crushing my patience like a compress.

Without thinking, I take the knife from my placemat and stab the table, ending up in between his fingers.

"That is mahogany!" Effie snaps, my eyes still on the man.

"Look at you, just killed a place mat." He yanks the blade from the wood and places it back down on the surface. "You really want to know how to stay alive? You get people to like you." He notices the slight shock on my face.

"Oh? Not what you were expecting? When you're in the middle of the games, and your starving or freezing, some water, a knife, or even some matches could mean the difference between life and death. And those things only come from sponsors, and to get sponsors, you have to make people like you." He looks down at his toast and spreads a thick layer of jam over top it. "And right now sweetheart, your not off to a real good start." He takes a bite of it, the words seeping in.