Living Lies ✜ Hunger Games x Reader

The Games Again

"So how does it work?"

Haymitch turns his head and flickers his gaze briefly over your worried face. "What, you mean meeting the President of District 13?"

"I mean how she and Plutarch work together," you correct quietly, eyes trailing after one of the many workers of the District, who didn't seem to take any notice of your presence. "Plutarch agreed to call off the doctors hovering over me all day and night so he could convince the President to meet me, but it's been weeks since that happened."

"Not too fond of waiting?"

You offer your former mentor a wry smile. "I get that she has an undercover top secret district to run, but she can't hide me forever. Sooner or later, people are going to find out, and I can't imagine they'll be happy when they do."

"That what—their leader is hiding a supposed to be dead fugitive from the totalitarian government that holds the key to their possible demise?"

"I can't tell if you're being a sarcastic asshole or agreeing with me, but yes, exactly."

"(Y/n), the president is a, particular woman," Haymitch begins hesitantly, laying a hand on your shoulder lightly as the two of you approach a door at the end of the hallway. "I'm sure she has a good reason for delaying your meeting."

"What if she doesn't?"

"That won't be a problem, because you're not going to ask her why."

Your eyes widen in surprise, but you make a feeble attempt to hide your shock as Haymitch turns to look at you from his stationary position. Recovered, you nod slowly, as if to affirm his command, when really that's not what you plan to do at all. If the President of District 13 has a good reason for ignoring you, you feel that you deserve to hear what it is.

Haymitch takes note of your lack of verbal response and enthusiasm and sighs in exasperation, frowning.

"You're going to ask her, aren't you?"

"Yeah, that's the plan."

Haymitch shakes his head, muttering something about you never listening to him anyways as he pushes the door in front of him open.

The same thought that occurred to you when you first exited the train into the Capitol crosses your mind once again. Act confident, determined, friendly. Like an ally. Like someone they would want on their side.

You decide you have to play this familiar game if you want to be taken seriously with the District 13 higher up, pushing back your shoulders and setting your jaw. Smiling, somehow, just doesn't seem appropriate at the moment.

"Ah, there they are. See, President Coin, I told you they'd be right on time."

Eyes briefly traveling across the room, you offer Plutarch Heavensbee a small wave with the flick of your fingers, which he acknowledges. You snap your head around to face Haymitch when you hear him clear his throat loudly, possibly trying to gain your attention. He nods his head, gesturing slightly towards a 50 or so old woman with dead eyes and slate grey monotone hair.

"Hi, Miss (Y/l/n), it's nice to finally meet you," she begins, offering you a hand to shake. "President Coin. I hope you're finding District 13 to your liking so far."

You bite your lip before shaking her hand firmly. "I actually haven't got to see much of it, regretfully. I've mainly tried to stick to the halls I know of close by in case somebody were to see me that shouldn't."

"Oh there's no worry for that," Coin dismisses. "Anybody and everybody that do not know of your presence yet are not going to be walking these restricted hallways."