All of the tributes sat in the waiting room. Grace watched Finnick and Mags talking, just like it would be a normal situation, a normal day, a normal life.
"District 4. Finnick Odair. Report for individual assessment." He started smiling and sat up, glancing at her for a monument of a second before walking inside.
"District 5. Grace Lee."
She stepped into the room and looked at the game master, Plutarch.
"Miss Lee. You have ten minutes to present your chosen skill."
Her eyes wandered around the room. She could do anything, but it wouldn't impress them.
"Miss Lee, don't you want to start?"
She locked eyes with Plutarch. An idea popped into her mind. Grace picked up the white rose and threw red paint on it, holding it up for the judges to see.
"White is meant to get red."
A message for snow, showing he was a killer and the blood was on his hands.
Grace bowed and walked out.
In the elevator she met Finnick once again, who clearly waited for her.
"What did you perform?", he asked, looking her up and down. She held the red rose up, red paint on her hand. He nodded, his lips forming into a slight smile.
~~~
"Thank you! Thank you for being here tonight. On the eve of the 75th Hunger Games! We have never seen anything like this. And we will never see anything like it again. Because tonight, on this day, 24 of Panem's greatest stars, will vie for the ultimate crown. Tonight will be their final opportunity to express their thoughts. Our final opportunity to express our love. And heartbreakingly to say goodbye to all, but one. What a night. Let's hear it! That's so exciting!"
Grace walked with her stylist, Sora, into the room and looked at the outfit. A simple dark blue suit with golden jewelry. It fit her blond hair well.
"You said you like it more when it's plain."
"It's awesome." After she put it on, Grace looked at herself in the mirror.
"You look wonderful, sweetheart."
She turned around to Sora, giving her a quick, yet deep and soft smile.
The rest of the time she watched everyone's interview, thinking of what she could say.
Grace walked on stage and sat down on the chair, placing her hands into her lap.
"Grace, it's been a long time since we last saw you. How have you been?"
She looked around the crowd. There were so, so many people here. For all of them this all was just a show while others died inside the arena. This was.. war.
"What do you think? Just because I won the games once it means I'm living a happy live now? Nobody ever wins the games. There are survivors, but there are no winners."
He laughed, trying to lift the mood up, but she had turned it down with her speech, just like she wanted. The crowd had gone silent.
"Well, I mean, the games aren't easily won, you know."
"Have you ever been in one?"
His jaw dropped.
Grace stood up and headed back behind the stage, turning to the screens to watch the next interviews. Someone came up behind her.
"Nice speech."
She didn't turn around to face the blond man.
"I repeated it over hundred times in my head last night."
"Really?"
He now stopped next to her, his gaze fixated on the many screen sin front of them. The woman turned her head to him, letting her eyes wander over his facial features for a short second. "No."
Finnick turned to her too, smiling.
"We have seen a lot of tears tonight. But I see no tears in in Johanna's eyes. Johanna, you are angry. Tell me why."
"Yeah, I'm angry. You know, I'm totally getting screwed over here. The deal was, if I win the Hunger Games, I get to life the rest of my live in peace. But now, you want to kill me again. But you know what, f*ck that! I f*ck everybody that had anything to do with it!"
"All right then. Who's next?"
A small smile formed on Grace' face. She liked Johanna, she was strong, honest and though. That's why she wanted to be her ally.
"One of your allies?" Finnick asked. "Mhm."