Katniss and Peeta sat patiently at the table in their penthouse apartment of the Training Centre, waiting for Haymitch to give them instructions on how to handle the Quarter Quell. She was mindlessly pushing her food back and forth across the expensive plate, lost in thought while he was glancing between her and their mentor with his chin in his hands.
The two of them had, less than a year earlier, been crowned Victors of the 74th annual Hunger Games, but the Quarter Quell was unlike anything that had ever happened before.
The tributes were to be chosen from the existing pool of victors, and while she was sure it was because President Snow wanted to eliminate the threat she'd become, it didn't make her any less nervous to face an entire arena of seasoned killers.
"I want you guys to forget everything you think you know about the games, alright?" Haymitch announced bluntly as he poured himself a large glass of wine. "Last year? Childs play. This year, you're dealing with all experienced killers."
"Alright," Peeta breathed out while allowing his hands to fall down into his lap. "So, what does that mean for us?"
He took a long swig from his cup, and set it down. The red liquid now barely half filled the glass, but he'd just top it off in a few minutes anyway. "It means you're going to have to have some allies." He sauntered around the table so he was standing in front of them.
Katniss could feel him watching her but she refused to look at him, because that would mean admitting he was right. She didn't like the idea of Haymitch being right.
Peeta nodded slowly, doing the mental math for the situation at hand. "Okay, well I think that if we—"
"—Whoop, you're not the problem," Haymitch interrupted him easily, eyes focused solely on her. He raised his hand above her head and pointed down at her so Peeta could see.
She immediately rolled her eyes. "No."
"Look," Haymitch sighed, sitting at an angle in the seat next to her. "You're both at a disadvantage. Most of these people have been friends for years."
Katniss raised her brows at him. "That just puts us higher on their kill list."
Haymitch raised one hand, took a small sip, then sighed. "Do it your own way, but I know these people." His glanced between them both. "You go it alone? Their first move is to hunt you down. Both of you."
"Katniss, come on," Peeta murmured, trying to change her mind.
She thought about it for a moment, then with pursed lips finally turned to Haymitch. "How could any of us even trust each other?" She asked carefully, not wanting to sound flat out disagreeable.
"It's not about trust, it's about staying alive," was his answer.
Then he downed the rest of his drink and stood up. While rubbing his hands together, he sauntered over to the doorway of the sitting room. "If you'd both follow me," he hummed somewhat dramatically.
They made themselves comfortable on a grey sofa pushed up against the wall opposite to a sparkly-rimmed TV. "Because I'm such a great mentor, here's the Reaping's from the other districts; this is who you're up against."
The screen opened to District 1, where they were greeted by a dark haired man dressed in a beige tunic with his hand clasped to that of a woman with blonde hair in a leather jacket. Both were beaming at the camera. "Cashmere and Gloss, brother and sister, District 1. Won back to back games, capitol favourites, lots of sponsors; they will be lethal."
He clicked a button on the remote, and a tan woman with a golden band around her head and pointed teeth was yelling something back to the crowd, lightly bumping into the bald muscular man next to her. "And the other half of the Career pack, Brutus and Enobaria."
"What's with her teeth?" Katniss cringed away from the screen slightly.
Haymitch pulled a face, as if he'd been waiting for the question. "She had them filed into fangs so she could rip peoples throats out," he answered, blinking twice.
"Committed, I'll give her that," Peeta mumbled under his breath, blue eyes focused on the screen.
It change again, to an older man with a goatee standing next to a thin mousy haired woman of equal age. "Wiress and Beetee, not fighters but brilliant...also weird...tech-savvy. He won his games by electrocuting six tributes at once."
Then came a pair of gaunt, malnourished tributes from District 6 that Haymitch had oh-so-affectionately nicknamed The Morphlings. He made a comment about them self-medicating, which he approved of, then promised they weren't a threat.
An attractive young man who couldn't have been that much older than herself took over the screen next, the bottom right corner saying he was from District 4. "Finnick Odair, right?" Katniss clarified, her brows furrowed.
"Yes, he won his games at 14, youngest ever," Haymitch introduced. "Extremely humble."
She scoffed. "You're kidding."
"Yes, I'm kidding, obviously," Haymitch rolled his eyes dramatically. "He's a peacock—" he tossed his own hair for dramatic emphasis, and tilted his head "—total preener. But he's the Capitol darling, they love him here. Charming, smart, very skilled at combat; especially in water."
Peeta leaned forward so his elbows rested on his knees. "What about weaknesses?"
"One." But he looked like he wasn't sharing everything, like the number should be higher, and that bothered her. But Katniss knew she'd figure it out anyway. The screen showed an old woman, probably in her late sixties or early seventies, standing next to a crying red haired girl. "Mags, she volunteered for Annie, who's been a real good friend to him since he won. But Mags was his mentor and basically raised him. Trying to protect her in any way exposes him."
"A guy like that has to know she's not going to make it," Katniss frowned calculatingly. "When it comes down to it, he probably won't protect her."
"Well Katniss, I just hope when she goes, she goes quickly." Finnick was hugging Mags on the screen now, and kissed her forehead as she settled her head on his chest and her around his middle. "She's actually a very sweet woman."
She averted her eyes as the screen changed again, now showing the District 10 tributes; a tall pale boy with flaming red hair and hauntingly empty green eyes. He was standing stoically as his name was called, and merely spared his district partner a glance when her name was called. "Gloria Rain," Haymitch introduced, a slight twitch pulling at the corner of his eye that didn't go unnoticed. "And—"
"—Wait that's Eden Koyle, isn't it?" Peeta almost gaped, lurching back in his seat so quickly it startled her.
"What?" Katniss frowned.
"You don't remember him?" Haymitch seemed almost surprised, too.
"No, should I?"
"He won the games four years ago, the 70th by ripping his final competitor to pieces with his bare hands," Peeta breathed, tossing a hand through his hair. "He literally did the impossible, and I'm not even exaggerating...not talking about the gut-ripping either."
"Not entirely sound in the head, definitely lethal," Haymitch agreed. "But he's a good kid...he'd be better as an ally than an enemy, that's for sure."
"Weaknesses?" Katniss asked, calculating eyes not once straying from the screen.
She received a sigh in response. "Physically? None that I know of. After going what he went through in his games, he crossed a line within himself that I don't think anyone could come back from. There's nothing he wouldn't do to be the last one alive."
Katniss watched as Eden Koyle's hand was raised in the air by the dark skinned woman standing next to him, and as the camera closed in on her unbelievably perfected fake smile before switching to his, she could see two things. He seemed to exhale a breath of...relief? He looked at peace for a split second. But any sign of that was immediately gone, and his expression went back to impassive.
The camera panned out again, showing him holding a young strawberry blonde girl on his hip. She was clinging to his neck and had her face buried into his shoulder, but she had a yellow flower clutched in her right chubby hand. A daffodil.
And a wide smile showcasing his straight white teeth masked a bubbling, seething rage that seemed to have him metaphorically foaming at the mouth. It was an emotion that was unnoticeable to anyone who hadn't been staring it in the mirror for weeks.
But Katniss could feel it through the screen as he let go of Gloria's hand and cling to the girl for another moment, a hand on the back of her head while he closed his eyes before eventually handing her off to a pretty young woman maybe two years older than him with brown hair and tan skin, standing beside an older black man with short greying hair and a walking stick in hand.
The girl clung to her as his body visibly deflated, and then he pulled himself together. His chin rose with a clenched jaw, his shoulders rolling back, back straightening, arms falling plainly at his sides. But his haunting eyes were simmering with a cold rage that she recognized would be explosive the minute an opportunity presented itself.
But that was something she could understand.