HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 24

Only about a million, but when Lilith failed to articulate even one, Snow, with a mildly intrigued air, remarked, "Well, I suppose that's the difference giftedness makes." And without the slightest delay, without allowing her time to wonder if she'd been ridiculed, or, indeed, to react: "In that case, I'd like to move onto your homework. Do you remember what I said during the interview?"

Lilith remembered everything he had said during the interview. Perhaps more distinctly than was necessary. Definitely much too distinctly for her liking.

"Which part exactly, sir?" she enquired.

"The part about the victors being mentors," replied Snow.

Cruising through her memory, Lilith said, "You wanted to know what's in it for them. You said the job description's something to think about. Basically, how can we motivate them into becoming mentors?"

"How can you motivate them into becoming mentors," corrected Snow with a smile. "So that's what I want you to think about. It's clear you don't mean to force them, and that's fine—I'll respect it. Which is why I want you to tell me how you're planning to convince the victors to take up this mantle willingly, as you've envisioned. That will be your first assignment. For your second—"

To one side of the documents Snow had arranged on his desk sat a fat manila folder. He lifted it and handed Lilith the parcel, which was hefty but pliant. Curious, she raised the flap, and through the gaping mouth a thick stack of stapled papers greeted her. Glimpsing the text on the first page despite the gloom within the pocket, she deduced what they were instantly.

"These are your classmates' proposals," said Snow, as Lilith had guessed. "I want you to go them through and, bearing in mind that the goal is to engage audiences in the districts, tell me which ones you'd implement and why, which ones can be improved on before they're worthy of implementation and how. I don't need you to write a report or anything. Just come in tomorrow with your thoughts and we'll discuss. That goes for both of your assignments."

As Lilith stared at him, he seemed, again, to have read her mind.

"It's tight, yes," admitted Snow, "but know that you're not being pressed for the sake of it. I just want to get a feel your thought processes before they can be convoluted by Friday's round-up. It would have been less rushed if I could have given this to you yesterday, but as it is, you'll just have to deal with it. Treat it as a lesson: having to bear the consequences of your own actions."

His tone had been thoroughly businesslike, and the mockery so subtle Lilith could have imagined it. She only nodded.

"If you've nothing else for me, I'd like to show you where you'll be working before you leave."

Normally, Lilith would have wiped down any finger prints she might have left on the metallic surface, but as it was, she didn't have time—she didn't seem to have time for anything anymore. The grip was a polished pink that matched the leather binding of her diary, connected to a transparent barrel, which was filled with neon pink rhinestones and topped with a large, decorative faux gem—also pink—shaped like a diamond. Hastily twisting her pen around its halfway mark where the closing mechanism was situated, Lilith slotted it into its designated holder at the side of her notebook, snapped the magnetic flap into place, chucked it into her bag, which she slung over one shoulder, and, hugging the bulky envelope, hurried after Snow. 

But all her exertions felt stupid when Snow stopped not ten paces from his own door and gestured towards the vacant seat at the edge of the open area. Lilith couldn't say she'd noticed it before. Practically identical in terms of size and furnishings to its neighbors, the rectangular space hosted a lone mesh-back swivel chair tucked behind a white laminate-top table. Apart from the wireless charging pad it was equipped with (like those in the University's library), the latter was as bare as the drab, ash grey partitions surrounding it.