The Press Conference

Opinions

i.

When it was time to watch the conference, Thorne made popcorn.

Scarlet scolded him for being insensitive, even as she ushered them all into the Lunar Queen's office. Even as she, along with Cress and Wolf, piled onto the office couch and bored their eyes into the netscreen like socialites about to pounce on a juicy bit of gossip.

"You're one to talk," Thorne drawled, lazily flicking a popcorn kernel into Scarlet's curls. "Who declared that she'd be the first to shoot our illustrious queen if she showed the slightest sign of Levana-likeness?"

Scarlet huffed. "Well, someone  would have to -"

"And who told Winter she'd need to toughen up if she wanted to help rule a country?" Cress blurted. Thorne gave her an approving look.

When Scarlet rolled her eyes, not bothering with a response, Wolf nudged her. "You're in a good mood today. When Jacin snapped at you for saying that to Winter, you just about bit his head off."

"Don't even talk to me about him. Le connard! He had the nerve to tell Cress that she should learn to speak up for herself." She wrapped an arm around Cress, who looked half pleased and half terrified of the fiery Frenchwoman who held her like a sister, especially when said Frenchwoman growled, "One of these days I'm going to wring his neck."

Wolf, almost timidly, plucked the popcorn kernel from Scarlet's hair, wisely not commenting.

Cress cleared her throat. "He's not ... he's not that bad."

Scarlet pulled back just enough to give her a shocked look. "'Not bad'?"

Thorne barked a laugh and dropped onto the couch on Cress's other side. He, too, sat much closer to her than friends might have, but the motion was so breezy that it could have been a casual mistake. (Though all four of them knew it wasn't.)

"Screen, on," he commanded, and the netscreen lit up to a blue home screen with the Lunar insignia. "Channel zero-six-nine." Then, turning to Cress, he grinned. "I wouldn't have pegged you for a defender of dearest Sir Clay. What gives?"

Cress sat up a little straighter. "Winter believes in him, so I do too. She says that, yeah, he might act like a scheming, untrustworthy sod sometimes, but he's actually the kindest, most loyal person you could ever meet."

"He's a good shot," Wolf offered.

Scarlet scoffed. "I'm a good shot, and I've yet to see what he's made of. Besides, he was Sybil Mira's guard - and I ask you, does that say more about his skill with firearms or about his own character? What kind of person is he, if he was assigned to that heartless, sadistic little -"

"All right!" Wolf held up his hands, palms-out, in surrender, clearly regretting ever having said anything. "We get it. You hate him."

"Damn right I do," she muttered.

Cress leaned forward suddenly, shushing them, and the other three turned to the netscreen.

The small conference room was teeming with Lunar media, bustling and chatting while they waited for the queen to arrive. The camera must have been embedded into the back wall, just over the door, because there was a good view of the small stage at the front of the room. That empty space compelled attention with an almost tangible magnetism - broken only when a figure in a slim black dress walked onto it, and the whole room fell silent.

"That's her!" Cress whispered excitedly.

A slow grin spread over Thorne's face as he, too, leaned forward in anticipation. "Come on, Cinder," he said. "Let's see what you've got."