Gamble of Wits || Finnick Odair

Chapter 46: Power and Control

The air crackled with tension as Finnick and Scarus locked eyes, their expressions laced with a thinly veiled challenge.

"Almost as shameful as the countless lovers you have." Scarus hit back, his gaze unmoving from Sera. "Of course, it's not exactly shameful but it's something neither you nor I like to talk about at dinner with the President."

The smile on Finnick's face didn't fade. "Right, time and place." He said with a chuckle. "Forgive me, I'm not as high-born as you and Gamemaker Crane or Gamemaker Heavensbee."

Scarus smirked, his eyes narrowing with a touch of disdain. "You're forgiven."

"Oh I wasn't asking for forgiveness," Finnick retorted.

"It's a figure of expression." Plutarch chimed in, stabbing Scarus when he was down. "I understand it's a little difficult for you to understand given that you haven't been around enough peers your age—"

"What exactly are you insinuating Gamemaker?" Scarus growled.

"Congratulations on another year as Head Gamemaker, Seneca." Sera congratulated with a bright smile, ignoring the heated gazes of Finnick and Scarus.

Seneca's cheeks heated up as pink lightly painted his cheeks. "T-thank you Seraphine. It was hard work but once again I've been fortunate that the President chose me as Head Gamemaker." He said, leaning forward in his seat in an attempt to get close to her from across the small table.

"Three years as Head Gamemaker is no easy feat." Plutarch remarked. Seneca wouldn't last long, at least not with what Plutarch was planning.

"Plutarch made it look very easy." President Snow said, eying Seneca like he was some insect. "Of course, the ratings were high during your time. You had the chance to have some memorable victors for your games."

"Fortune smiled upon me." Plutarch glanced at Sera and Finnick. "I was quite lucky to get Cashmere, Gloss, Finnick, Seraphine, Augustus, and many other remarkable victors during my games."

The corners of Scarus' mouth went up while Seneca's face fell. His pride was gone as President Snow brought him back down from the pedestal Seneca put himself on.

Scarus knew Plutarch was bragging but there was a fondness as well in his smile that was foreign. He was lost in the memories of the past—probably thinking about his late godfather that Sera and Plutarch took care of.

"Fortune only doesn't favor the victors but also the Gamemakers and the mentors." President Snow commented. "It's quite the skill of luck that mentors are given good tributes and in turn, good mentors polish those tributes for the Gamemakers."

A fog of memories blinded him momentarily as he stared off into the distance for a second. He shut his eyes and opened them again, pulling himself back into the room.

"And the Gamemakers turn those tributes into the gems that are victors." Plutarch finished for President Snow.

"Indeed." President Snow agreed and turned to Seneca. "I do expect great things from you this year, Head Gamemaker Crane."

"I won't let you down." Seneca said, his voice oozing with false bravado.

"I certainly hope you don't."

A muffled chuckle escaped Scarus, his amusement barely contained. Seneca paused, his face darkening. "Is something amusing, Consul Redcliff?" Seneca asked.

Scarus leaned back in his chair, his voice dripping with sarcasm, he said. "Oh, nothing. Your optimism is refreshing."

"My optimism?"