"Coriolanus! Get Everdeen into your room and lock the key for the night. Do not let anyone in or anyone out," Dean Highbottom informed them with a hurried air as they reached the academy. Coriolanus found Whiskey's hands, protecting her.
"Wait! Sir, what's going on?" Snow caught him before he ran off.
"Just do as I say. I'll tell all the mentors tomorrow," He sighed, waving his hand back. "I forgot to mention. Do not let anyone see Whiskey. She's in danger to being mistaken for the others."
"Are the tributes safe?!" Whiskey pleaded for an answer, trying to read his expression.
Highbottom turned and walked away, leaving Whiskey stranded. The panic was evident on her face. She just wanted to know what was going on.
"Coriolanus what-"
"Shh," He took her arm. "We need to get you to the room."
As they ran down the hallway, guards stomped along nearly catching sight of them Coriolanus grabbed Whiskey and pulled her aside, hiding her from their view. She froze, hands on his chest, his arms around her shoulders. Thankfully, his head was turned away, watching the guards stomp past, so he didn't notice her cheeks turn pink with surprise.
"Come on," he pulled her back into the hallway, running towards safety. However, just before they reached their room, out walked Clemensia Dovecote. Whiskey immediately stepped out of her view, hiding from her dangerous snarl.
"Corio, I was hoping to see you," Clemensia replied with a sweet tone. Her ponytail was so tight Whisky imagined her brain was being stretched constantly.
Coriolanus flattened down his coat sleeves, acting natural. "Dovecote," he greeted politely.
"You have heard of the drama that's happening down the street haven't you? With the tributes? Everyone's tremendously worried, as I'm sure you are too," She gossiped, touching his arm, flirtatiously. Whiskey wasn't sure why, but behind the doorframe, she felt a stab of jealously and immediately decided she didn't like the girl with the ponytail.
"Why? What's happened?" Coriolanus asked her, keeping her arm there. He lent towards her, making Whiskey feel sick.
"Oh silly snow!" She laughed. "Where have you been all evening?"
"I've been eating steak with my family, discussing finances," he lied so easily. Whiskey frowned, wondering why he had to lie. He could've explained he was walking home with his tribute, showing her the city. Was he ashamed of her? Embarrassed of being seen with his tribute?
Dovecote laughed, "Of course you were. Well in your absence, someone's blown up the zoo gate. Some silly complaints about the games, they're saying. But now all the tributes have escaped. Their roaming the streets like animals. All the guards have been sent out to find them before they attack random civilians."
Whiskeys heart clunked to the floor. No wonder she was being protected. If they found her, they would surely make her pay for leaving the zoo. And what was stopping the guards from shooting her too, thinking she was an escaped tribute?
"Oh," Snow acted calm. "Why would that affect me? I can pay to get my cousin and I into protective services where they cannot reach us." Whiskey felt confused, she thought he was poor. How would he be to pay for that? He was lying again, to impress this girl from his class.
"Aren't you in love with that tribute from district 12? I thought you'd care if the guards shot her before the hunger games tomorrow and you lost the Plinth Prize. And isn't the animal staying with you right now? I thought she'd be with you," Dovecote reminded him.
Whiskey's ears pricked up at this sentence. She tried her best to keep her breathing level to hear his answer. "In love?" He scoffed. "It's all strategy, Dovecote. You know how it is. And no, last I saw she was being taken somewhere by a guard."
"Consider yourself lucky. The animal would probably have pounced on you by now."
The little flame that had been lit for a few days now in Whiskey's heart that she was scared to admit existed was punched so hard it fell out of the back of her soul. She was just strategy. Every moment of friendship, every laugh, every small feeling of more, was all manipulation for his strategy. How far did his strategy go? Where was the line? Was it all strategy? Every interaction they'd ever had? Her cheeks went bright red with embarrassment, despite knowing nobody could see her. She was starting to think he was a nice guy. She was actually starting to believe that he thought so too about her. Yet somehow she'd forgotten that she was a tribute and he was a mentor. It was stupid to allow herself to think they were anything more than strategy.
Whiskey was too distracted to listen to the rest of the conversation. She spent a minute or two recovering and convincing herself it was fine. Suddenly, Snow appeared in front of her.
"Sorry about her," he rolled his eyes. "Nobody saw you did they?"
Whiskey frowned, unable to fight her disappointment and hurt. "Of course not I'm not an idiot," she hissed.
This surprised Snow and he stopped for a second, frowning. "I never said you were an idiot. You're quite the opposite," he acted confused.
"Whatever," She sighed, walking towards the door.
He let them into their room and closed the door behind them, Coriolanus locking it. Whiskey walked straight to the dark window, sulking, hoping she could see something. In the courtyard, Highbottom and scary woman in red clothes that she didn't recognised talked in a secretive manner. It peaked her interested but she refused to tell Coriolanus about it. She was in no mood to talk to him.
Coriolanus paused, his coat slung over his arm. "I need to make sure Tigris and Grandmam are okay," he thought out loud. "What if they're in danger?"
Whiskey ignored him. This made Coriolanus frown. Usually, she was a chirpy person, yet she was acting like a real bitch. Obviously something had happened on the way to their room because she was acting fine in the street.
"I'll check on them tomorrow because I'm not allowed to leave you unattended," he sighed, sitting on the edge of the bed. Whiskey stayed silent, looking out the window. Coriolanus rolled his eyes and made his way to the bathroom to wash himself off and go to bed.
In the mirror he could see the bags forming under his eyes. It was late at night now, later than he usually was awake, and he could feel his stomach growling. He would usually go down to find some food to steal for his cousin and grandma after dinner, but tonight he had been preoccupied by Everdeen.
He glanced at Everdeen through the reflection of the mirror and saw she still hadn't moved. He took a moment to watch her. He wasn't sure of his motivations except that he knew he wouldn't be able to look at her much longer. The Hunger Games were tomorrow evening and despite the tributes running loose, he knew the games maker would do everything in her power to continue them.
His eyes travelled over her shoulders and legs, noticing how slender and toned they were from climbing trees in district 12, something most woman in the capital didn't have. He liked how they looked on her, just like how he liked her hands. He noticed how the frown in her face created a small crease on her cheeks and how her nose looked perfect from the angle she was on. The more he stared, the more beauty he saw. This realisation made him drop his head, he needed to stop staring.
By the time he re-entered the room, Whiskey had resulted to sitting on the bed, being too tired to stand. He could see in her eyes that was thinking the same thing he realised when he agreed to have her stay. There was no couch or spare bed in this room. They were going to have to share different sides of the bed.
As Coriolanus climbed into his side of the mattress, he noticed Whiskey twisting her wrists in pain. A red mark was starting to form under her chain. Not only that, there was no way she could sleep in them comfortably.
Without a word, he moved and slowly sat next to her, taking her hands in his. She studied his face, trying to figure out what he was doing, but he kept his eyes down. He grabbed the key from his pocket and unlocked her chains, clicking them off. He could feel the relief the second they clinked to the floor. "Please don't choke me in me sleep."
"Why would you do that," Whiskey ignored his light joke. She was growing to understand Snow's personality, meaning she was growing to understanding he didn't do anything unless he had some personal gain from it. Taking off her chains had more risk than gain for him.
"I trust you," he whispered, holding her hands still. For a while, neither one of them moved. They stayed, holding each others hands, knowing one was a mentor and one was a tribute.
Finally, Whiskey was the one that moved. She stood up, looking down at her electric taser on her ankle, stopping her from running. Free but not quite. Without speaking, she climbed into the other side of the bed and turned away from him. In her pocket, she felt the sharp butter knife she'd stolen from the drawer when Coriolanus wasn't looking.
"Goodnight, Coriolanus," she whispered.
"Goodnight, Whiskey," he replied.