Snow's perceptiveness had stunned Lilith, but only because it had been an accurate interpretation of her rationale.
"Exactly, sir," she said, feeling a small smile of delight forming, and watched Snow watch her.
His expression was inscrutable. The only thing she could definitively say he was was intense. The way his eyes bored into hers; the way his irises were blue, like the water in the lake on an extremely good day. So intensely blue...
"Thank you, Miss Gold," said Snow, rather abruptly, and Lilith hoped her start hadn't been too conspicuous. He had straightened up, his folded hands propped up on elbows rested upon the table top. "It's an idealistic plan you've got there. I'd like to know what inspired you. Surely there's a plethora of methodologies for promoting fairness. Why stylists and mentors in particular?"
"I got the idea from my little brother, actually," admitted Lilith. "He has a pet named Lady—she's a cocker spaniel. The first time he entered her into a dog show, he didn't do his research. He didn't know there were specific tasks to accomplish and hadn't trained her for it. But due to her exceptional grooming and the fancy costume he'd put her in, she earned such a high score in the pageant segment she placed fifth overall. This year, after a professional was engaged to coach her, Lady improved markedly in the agility and obedience events, which, combined with her gold medal in the beauty contest, won her the competition.
"To be sure, my brother had the privilege of learning by trial and error. The tributes, unfortunately, don't share his luxury. They only get one chance in the arena, and they have to make it count. Nobody can be expected to do on their own, though. Everyone needs a little help. Dogs have coaches; students have teachers; even the president has his advisors. Why shouldn't the tributes have mentors?"
"Why shouldn't they, indeed?" Snow's voice, like his face, betrayed no emotion. Lilith couldn't begin to fathom what he was thinking, but she couldn't dismiss the strange inkling of being mocked either. "What's in it for them?"
"I beg your pardon, sir?"
"The victors," said Snow. "Why should they do it? Are you going make them?"
Lilith blinked, appalled by the notion.
"I didn't think so. What's in it for them, then?" he asked again. "What do they get out of being a mentor?"
"They...they get honour," stammered Lilith, "and to see their tribute live."
After a moment Snow flipped over her paper, revealing an equally defaced second page, and began to read:
" 'To avoid potential conflict of interests, victors may only serve as mentors to their own district's tributes. Mentor-tribute pairings will be further governed by gender, with male victors charged with male tributes and so forth. For districts with more than one eligible mentor, the most recent victor will be honoured with the task. For districts with only one existing victor, or with victors of only a single gender, he or she will act as mentor for both male and female tributes for their district, until such time as the district gains a victor of the opposite gender. For districts without existing victors, tributes will nominate a parent or guardian to act as mentor, until such time as the district gains a victor.' "
Looking up from her essay, Snow continued, "You are recommending that some—most victors, really, be mentors to two tributes. And your reward for them is so that they may, and that is a big may in itself, see one of them survive?"
"I—" But the defense Lilith had hoped for never arrived.
In truth, she hadn't considered it from this aspect. To her, being a mentor was indeed a privilege. It would be an enviable role, a prime position from which people could help their fellow district citizens. In a theoretical world that had adopted her proposal, victors would be excited to join, thrilled by the prospect of being able to actually do something, rather than sitting idly in front of a television screen. Granted, only one wouldn't be disappointed with the results, but the point was that they'd at least tried, was it not?
"That job description, it's something to think about." Snow opened the flap of his document holder and slid her assignment out of sight. Then he relaxed back into his previous posture. "Tell me, Miss Gold, what do you think is the purpose of the Hunger Games?"
Her initial response—to punish the districts for the rebellion—had been on the tip of her tongue. In fact, her lips had already parted, but something stopped her. The slightest inflection she'd detected on "you," and his steady, seemingly expectant, gaze were unmerited if it were simply the stock answer he desired.
"It's a demonstration of the Capitol's power," said Lilith slowly. Her analysis was proven accurate when Snow nodded appreciatively and encouraged her to go on. "It's a reminder to the districts of who's in-charge. It's a reminder not to step out of line, or suffer our wrath."
"And do you agree with that?"
Swallowing, Lilith regarded the Head Gamemaker as she deliberated her reply. This wasn't a topic she fancied discussing in public; there was only one politically acceptable opinion, and she would have to lie to furnish it. Dishonesty went against everything she stood for, and normally, she could avoid it by refraining from comment. That, however, wasn't an option at the moment.
"I'm afraid I neither agree nor disagree, sir," she confessed.
Snow cocked his head just a tad. "Would you care to elaborate?"
"I hadn't been born during the Dark Days, sir," explained Lilith. "I haven't lost anyone to the war. I don't have any personal grievances with any of the districts, not least anyone from the districts.
"Of course, that is not to say that I do not view the rebellion as reprehensible. Severe damage had been inflicted, and plenty of unnecessary lives lost. The people who initiated it should be made an example of, and they have been."
She was referring to District 13, which had been completely flattened during the Dark Days, but she didn't have to spell it out. The Snows used to control their nuclear development plants before the entire area had been reduced to ash. He would know this better than her. She skipped ahead.
"There are others, of course, who are equally complicit and have to be held accountable. Anyone who has staged uprisings and coordinated supply cuts; anyone who has dropped bombs on our city and sent bullets through our soldiers... They should be tried and prosecuted in accordance to the law. They should be the ones to pay for all the destruction and bloodshed.
"Their children are innocent. Children, in general, are—they have to be. No eighteen-year-old could have been involved in a conflict that ceased twenty years ago."
Finally, there was something on Snow's face Lilith understood: his brows were furrowed, as if he was puzzling something out. She could guess what mystified him before he spoke.
"Aren't you a senior?" asked Snow. "Shouldn't that make you...?"
"I'm nineteen, sir," fielded Lilith, "twenty in December." Then she apprised him of the circumstances giving rise to her academic acceleration.
"Gifted, eh?" he repeated mildly, and she flashed a small, embarrassed smile while her cheeks flamed. It wasn't that she didn't embrace her brilliance, or was ashamed of it. Having to tell the story, even after all this time, just didn't sit well with her—it still felt like she was blowing her own trumpet. "So you're part of the Golden Generation?"
"Yes, sir."
"I see." Snow paused, and the manner in which he surveyed her made Lilith feel like glass—transparent, fragile. "Am I right to infer that you neither approve nor disapprove of the Games?"
"That would be correct, sir," she affirmed.
"What, then, may I ask, are you doing in this course, Miss Gold?"
It struck her only then that she had, startlingly, never given the question any proper thought, and again, she was brought up short.
"It's an intriguing subject," said Lilith, upon reflection. "There is nothing quite like the Hunger Games in the history of humanity as we know it. Gamemaking, both as an art and a science, is unprecedented besides. Examining the various facets of the Games—its genesis, its reception, its evolution and perpetuation—offers insights into strategy, psychology, sociology, and even philosophy, that may have beneficial applications elsewhere."
"Is that all?" he prodded, as if positive that was not all.
Was she really made of glass?
"Well, I'm also here because of my friends," conceded Lilith, somewhat sheepishly, but Snow raised his brows, demanding more. "We always take classes together, sir."
In seeming satisfaction, Snow lifted his head just several degrees.
"So you've essentially deprived someone of this fine opportunity, someone who might be more passionate, feel more strongly towards the Games, all because you want to be with your friends?"
His calm, even delivery only emphasized that he was being patronizing, and Lilith drew back, aghast. No—affronted. Perhaps her motivation had been trivial, but her actions certainly weren't as deplorable as what he was insinuating: that she had essentially robbed someone of their right; that essentially someone else deserved to be here more than her.
Words did not fail her this time.
"I'm not against the Games, sir," asserted Lilith. She was glass all right—a shard, cutting and sharp. "I'm willing to contribute to them should the opportunity present itself, and I can do it as well as the next person, if not better. If you could spare the time to check my credentials, you'll realize that I've earned my spot fair and square. If this hypothetical someone was so passionate, felt so strongly towards the Games indeed, then they should have fought harder to get here. It's not on me they didn't make the cut."
But even as she said it, Lilith began to challenge the statement's validity. There was a finite number of spaces in this class—or any class, for that matter. If it had been oversubscribed, someone had to lose for someone else to gain. This was a zero-sum game.
"No, it isn't," Snow agreed. He glanced at the Aeon on his wrist. Lilith wouldn't declare herself any sort of watch expert, but she reckoned the vintage Eternal probably predated her, for an identical piece existed in her grandfather's collection. "I believe that's all the time we have for today. Once again, thank you, Miss Gold."
Getting to his feet, Snow smiled serenely and extended his hand. Lilith obliged to shake it. The warmth, immediate and comforting, could only mean one thing: she was freezing. Snow, however, did not display the tiniest hint that he'd been jolted by her icy skin, and she amused herself with the thought: Why would he? He's a Snow. He's made of ice.
"Thank you, sir," said Lilith courteously. She retrieved her belongings and headed for the door.
It came out of nowhere.
"Why did you wear that dress?" Snow called after her.
About three-quarters towards the exit, Lilith pivoted around and stared at him, perplexed. He wasn't blind, and he wasn't a fool. Judging by his serious mien, he wasn't pulling her leg either. As always, she decided against pointing out the painfully obvious—that she wasn't wearing one.
"What dress, sir?" inquired Lilith.
"The rainbow dress," he said, looking fixedly at her. "At the party. Why did you wear it?"
The first instance he had alluded to their interaction on Saturday, and he wanted to know why she wore a dress? It floored her.
"I...I suppose I liked it." Lilith felt utterly ridiculous. Why else?
"You suppose you liked it?"
His tone was perhaps the most emotional she'd ever heard: skeptical, a little irritated, but most of all—accusatory.
"Was it a problem, sir?" she asked, disconcerted. Not that she could imagine how it could have been. And even if this near impossibility transpired to be a possibility indeed, why was he broaching it only now?
"Not a problem, per se," said Snow, but for all the good that did, he might as well have ignored her. His measured demeanor had been recovered, though, she noted. "Forget I asked. Have a good evening, Miss Gold."
As Lilith wandered down the hall towards the library, the last thing she could do was forget he asked. In fact, it was all she could think about.
Why did she wear that dress?
There was no doubt: She loved it.
AN: We did not nearly hit my desired stats but I'm in a terribly good mood recently so here's a new chapter for your enjoyment. Happy holidays! Also, since we're finally allowed to speak of TBOSAS, I'm interested to know if anyone has any unpopular opinions (since I've a few myself). Comment yours below! Don't forget to vote and share and keep the rankings up. It keeps my mood up, and you know what I do when I'm in a good mood...