A Game Called Revenge ✭ Cato Hadley

Twenty-Three - Arthropoda

"ʏᴇꜱ, ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴍᴀɴ ʜᴀᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴇʀꜱɪꜱᴛᴇɴᴄᴇ ᴏꜰ ᴀɴ ɪɴꜱᴇᴄᴛ."

"I'm not playing this ridiculous game."

"Oh come onnnn, Gloss." Cashmere pokes him. "It's tradition."

"Is it?" Heaving a sigh as he slumps himself against the bark of the tree trunk, Gloss glances over from where his gaze had been locked on the green underside of the canopy; his eyes drifting over to his sister beside him and his allies opposite. "I recall our traditions being more gruesome than a meaningless game."

"It's just a bit of fun." Cato answers briskly, expression somehow simultaneously bored and instigating. He leans back, propped up against another large tree, one arm supporting his head and the other threading his fingers through Clio's newly re-fastened loose ponytail which rests on his lap. "We've all played it."

"I doubt that fuck, marry, kill is an average arena pastime." Gloss says slowly, and Cashmere shakes her head.

"It's not like that it means anything Gloss," Cashmere shrugs, pointing at the couple from Two. "It can't if they're playing."

"Hey!" Clio sits bolt-upright, nearly knocking herself out against Cato's chin on the way up.

"I didn't mean it badly, Clio." Cashmere says with a shrug.

She turns her attention to the male half of the pair. "Whatever. Gloss? Are you playing?"

"I literally just answered that. No."

"You're playing, or else I'll tell the world about that thing." Cashmere taunts.

"What thing?" The three remaining careers perk up and ask in unison.

Cashmere ignores the intrigue of her allies and smirks over at her brother. "You know- that thing that happened in the viewing room of the seventy-second."

Realisation dawns on Gloss' face as it pales; whilst Clio and Cato both move their eyes rapidly back and forth, trying to piece together whatever was so embarrassing that he wouldn't let her share. "What was it?"

"That's my year! What happened?"

"You wouldn't dare." Gloss seethes, also ignoring the fascination of the others. Much to their disappointment. When his sister simply raises a challenging eyebrow, he relents and sighs. "Fine. I'll play."

"Perfect." She grins, cheering halfheartedly.

"No hang on. What was it?" Cato pesters him.

"Nothing you need to know."

"Definitely not." Cashmere snickers, laughter increasing when her brother flips her off without hesitation.

"Are we gonna start or what?" Clio asks.

Cashmere's hand shoots straight up - of course, she'd volunteer herself for a game like this. "Clio." She prompts, directing her attention to her friend. "Fuck, marry, kill: Brutus, Haymitch and Ven."

Clio gives her a deadpan stare as Cato and Gloss cackle. "Seriously? Bringing our mentor into this. Shame on you."

"I know," Cashmere replies smugly. "None of the options are really inviting. Unless you like older men- isn't that right Clio?"

"I regret ever speaking to you." Clio mutters darkly.

Cashmere's jaw drops open in mock offence as the two men laugh even harder. Gloss manages to splutter another question directed her way, "Older men? I can't be the only one thinking of Finnick."