Court flounced to the front of the stage, her dress train bobbing behind her. Her stylist had obviously decided to play on her vaguely feral nature and she was wearing a tan coloured floor length dress, ripped and torn in strategic places, and her hair was artistically ruffled until it looked like she'd been caught outside in a tornado. She wasn't wearing any makeup and her eyes glinted dangerously.
"Hi," she snapped as she dropped into the chair.
"Hi!" chirped Martina in return. Court glared at her so viciously that she dropped the friendly tone. It looked like the girl had never been spoken to kindly in her life. She'd heard rumours, whispered on the wind, about the girl's life; apparently the Capitol district spies who went around snooping after tributes hadn't been able to find her place of residence. It appeared that she was homeless and fended for herself.
Martina knew that most of these rumours weren't to be believed. There were some uncomfortable whispers surrounding the twins and Megan was the subject of some vicious gossip which revolved around her torturing her father after he told her to put on a coat to go outside. But she was inclinced to believe the rumours about Court.
"So, Court, how does it feel to be here?" she asked.
"How do you think?" the girl snapped back. A few of the other tributes nodded, including Megan and Sebastian.
"Stupid question!" shouted Austin. Taylor hushed him quickly with an apologetic smile at the crowd.
"Fair enough..." began Martina, but Court cut over her.
"I've had a crap life," she snapped, "Unlike this bunch of saps, I've got nothing to win for. Okay, so I get a house, some money if I do. I've got no family to help out. All I've ever done is fend for myself. So that won't make a difference if I do it in a house or in a forest. So to be up here, well, at least I know that I'm doing some good for that poor girl who would have been here otherwise. That's all I can say about that."
Silence. Somebody at the back of the square sneezed and everyone in his area shuffled away, desperate not to come into contact with the germs.
"That's a very impassioned speech," said Martina carefully, stating the obvious. Court rolled her eyes.
"Isn't that the sort of thing you guys like? You like to see us come up here and pour out our hearts to you, tell you about family, friends, partners, just so you can see it all destroyed. You reward murderers, brutal killing machines, and laugh when people who have so far worked their arses off so that you can live as comfortably as you like are killed!"
Raylum was gawping at her. She knew exactly what he felt, almost word for word. And she was actually saying it, up on the stage with the whole of Panem staring at her. He wanted to cheer, or kiss her, or both.
"You work us to the death!" she carried on, "Then, when we're nearly down, you kick us in the shins by making us watch you killing our friends, our children! You're all sick, each and every one of you!"
Martina didn't know how to respond to this outburst. So she didn't. Court didn't need any more encouragement.
"The tesserae system. Either your kids will die of hunger, or they will be snatched from your hands, tortured, forced up to speak in front of their torturers and made to fight just so some stupid people with no sense of priority or hard work can have fun. Well, enjoy your fun, because one day someone will have the sense to stand up to you and you will be powerless to stop it, I can promise you that!"
And with that, she left the stage.
Now there were two empty tribute seats.
"Isn't she charming!" Martina exclaimed with irony, desperately trying to inject some humour into the situation. It didn't work. Everyone was suddenly glaring up at the stage, full of hate not just for Court but for the other tributes too, the whole pathetic lot of them. From behind the stage someone was shouting; it wasn't Court. It sounded like her mentor, a Capitol-provided woman. She was clearly not happy with Court's little speech.
"Stupid girl," Sebastian muttered to himself, "She'll never get any sponsors now." The twins, who had overheard, nodded. The Careers had identified someone else to target and grinned smugly to themselves. Raylum thought that she was amazingly brave. Daisuke was quivering in his seat, his red hair shaking around his ears.
"Move on!" someone hissed from the wings, loudly enough to be audible to the tributes. Martina shuffled, quickly adjusting her hair and assuming her best smile. It was obviously forced and the mood had turned sour. "Well, let's move on, shall we?" she suggested, so cheerily that it was obviously fake. Nobody even smiled. She faltered. "Who's next?" she asked. She'd totally forgotten, except that he had red hair, properly vivid red rather than just auburn, and slightly red eyes. And a funny name, which was why she was so surprised that she'd forgotten it.
"Daisuke Niwa!" the voice told her. It was so quiet that she could hear noises backstage, chaos and the word 'Peacekeepers' repeated over and over again. At the start of the interview she would have felt sorry for Court; now she just deserved whatever she got.
"And our final tribute of this...erm...eventful evening...ladies and gentlemen let's hear a huge round of applause for little Daisuke Niwa!" she announced. The response was stilted, but at least people clapped. Some saw Daisuke as a bit of a dark horse this year. The advertising campains that had been slathered everywhere these last few days - it was impossible to look anywhere without having a huge picture of one of the tributes looking down at you, with their sponsor number underneath - had all worked hard to portray Daisuke as cute-but-deadly, adding a few little flames to his eyes and emphasising the fire on his wristband.
The little kid who stumbled to the chair in jeans and a t-shirt looked scared and nervous and not deadly at all. His feet barely touched the floor when he sat down. Martina instinctively felt her heart go out to him. "Hey there, Daisuke. Am I pronouncing that right?"
She wasn't, but he nodded anyway, terrified of what might happen if he offended her. "Oh good! You know, every year we get such pretty names and this year is clearly no different!" she rambled. It had been different in other ways instead.
"Y-you have nice names here," he stuttered quietly.
The audience went 'awww'. "Thank you, honey!" Martina chirped, "This place must seem really big and scary to a cute little kid like you!"
He nodded. "It is a bit. But the food is nice. And there's such a lot of it."
"Well, I hope you've been enjoying it, because you lot get the best chefs in town! So tell me, Daisuke, what do you think your family are thinking right now?"
"I don't know," he mumbled, his thumb snaking towards his mouth. He let it drop self-consciously. "I hope they're proud of me for not crying."
"I'm sure they are! If you were my son, I would be very proud of you indeed! You don't even seem nervous!" This was an exaggeration. He looked horribly nervous, his eyes darting everywhere, his feet kicking sharply, but Martina wanted to give him a bit of confidence.
"I miss them very much," he muttered, without prompting, "I've never been away from them before and we've been through such a lot..." His voice started to wobble, his bottom lip quivering. The screens caught the emotion perfectly; torn between crying and not looking weak. Everyone instinctively sensed that there was more to him than there was to Fiona, but only an extreme optimist would have said he stood a chance against the sheer force of the Careers and the intelligence of the middle districts.
Luckily, there were a few extreme optimists in the audience. "Stay strong, kid!" a voice slurred from out to the right. Daisuke jumped; he'd totally forgotten the massive crowd. But the voice reminded him a little bit of his father after a bad day down the mines, and he remembered how he was supposed to stay strong for his mother, so he sat up straight and lifted up his chin like the others did, looking up proudly at Martina. She beamed down at him.
"Well, Daisuke, it seems you have your fans out there," she told him. He just smiled shyly. Martina was again struck by how small he was; from the posters he looked at least up to her shoulders. But he was absolutely tiny, though he looked up at her with all the strength of a boy much older. It was unnerving. Smaller tributes were almost always weak and usually didn't do much to hide it. Now he'd found some strength from somewhere, Daisuke actually looked like the boy they'd made him out to be on the posters.
"I'm going to be strong for my mother," he said, "She told me to stay strong and I will."
"That's so cute!" Martina cried, patting his hand in a motherly way, "What about your fellow tributes? Do you have any words for them?"
He turned to look at them and visibly shrivelled. The Careers were grinning at him, teeth glinting menacingly, though Klaus seemed distracted, several feet bigger than he was.
I am actually going to die.
"Uh, I guess so," he stammered, suddenly petrified again, "Catch me if you can!"
It had sounded good in his head and in training. Now it sounded like a challenge that the Careers would win, easily.
Martina giggled. "Well, there's some confidence! Daisuke, honey, you're one to watch out for!"
"I hope so," he muttered, kicking his feet and staring at the bright red canvas shoes they'd put him in. He wanted his shoes from home, nice tough little boots that meant you could stomp on things. These wouldn't even break a twig.
The buzzer went off. Martina hit it, trying not to look too grateful. On some cue off the stage, the tributes all stood up and filed off to thunderous applause, starting with Daisuke. Skyler was practically being propped up by Oak. Lizz flounced off without even a glance at the crowd, Raylum having to scuttle to keep up with her. Taylor and Austin laughed and blew kisses and bowed theatrically. Cherry was still struggling with her dress but Sebastian just swept on, face thoughtful. Clarence waved goodbye to people in the crowd, occasionally pointing at people and giving them a thumbs-up, Pataya following in his shadow. Rufus ambled with his head down, trying to pretend he wasn't there. Crete and Grace, talking quietly, followed him, with Crete winking at some of the women in the crowd, much to their delight. Misty was leading Meridan by the arm, whilst he had his 'I'm not incapable' face on. Megan tugged on her dress while Vedran muttered to her, trying to make her smile. Klaus stared into the audience passively, looking out for Rian again, while Tile bounced across the stage, swinging her hips. Dark held out his hand for Amber with an elegant bow. She looked him in the eyes, wrinkled her nose and swept past him regally, leaving him to trail after her.
"Well, ladies and gentlemen, this concludes this year's interviews! I hope you've enjoyed them as much as I have! Remember, there's still plenty of time to sponsor your favourite tributes, and the sponsor process with continue throughout the Games! May the odds be ever in your favour!"