thecapitol | (no subject)

Who| Mentors, stylist, escorts, and anyone else keeping up with tributes in an official aspect.
What| The green room
Where| The tribute training center
When| start of the arena
Warnings/Notes| none inherent, tags thread subjects as needed.

The green room this round has been decorated with the sensibility of what would be, in our era, a turn of the century sitting room. Dark wood paneling, thick rich red velvet furniture, and plush red curtains drawn back over various monitors with heavy gold cords. Although the room is quiet large to contain so many people, it gives the impression of being intimate. The Avoxes, decked out in vaguely militaristic attire, serve food and drink in silver and crystal dishes, gold alcohol catching the light of the stained glass lamps around the room.

In the center of the room is a holographic projection of the arena, highlighting in flickering lights where each tribute is. Panels hidden discretely in the wood paneling can change the view of any of the screens so a mentor or stylist can pull up their own tribute, or one whom they would like to observe.

The projection can easily be shifted, with the flick of a hand, on to the person's own tablet, or even to be projected on one of the sitting tables placed around the room. On their screens other various information can be easily accessed: current odds, gossip, and even communication from potential bidders.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

She looked over at him, appraising him slowly for a moment. She had had a few run ins with him, of course. With this set up, how could she not have rubbed elbows with the notorious Mr. O'dair.

But she still hadn't figured him out.

Looking back at the screen, she decided to play along, for now.

"I guess it's just a special talent." She meant it as a slightly back handed compliment, not realizing the way it doubled back on her. "But I don't envy them this arena. It's a nightmare."

"For most of them, it will be nightmares for years to come." He said with deadly seriousness. He was staring back toward the center again and at the dots that represented the tributes.

"But with Victors like you and Peeta to look up to, District 12 should be in good shape, right?"

Now he was just teasing, trying to get a reaction out of her, especially when he brought up Peeta.

Nightmares for years. That sounded familiar. And she only had two arenas to weigh on her mind.

She started, looking over at the comment about them as mentors, trying to gauge how sincere he was being. And coming back with nothing. So she proceeded with caution.

"I would like to think so." She said hesitantly, before adding, "4 is in good shape as well."

"Four will be just fine." He dismissed her comment easily.

"So tell me about your victor sweetheart. Is he pulling his weight here? I just hope he's not leaving it all on your shoulders, he's a mentor too now and he should be able to stand on his own two feet."

Finnick wanted to see just how far he could go before she would lash out at him. She seemed good enough in most of her public appearances, but that didn't mean she was as together one on one.

She started on a sincere answer, before it really sank in what he had said.

Did he really...did he really just make a joke about Peeta's leg? Her mouth dropped open for a moment, before she pressed it into a thin, white line, and he brain tried to scramble for something, anything, to sting him back.

She had nothing.

"He's doing just fine." She bit out. "Better than most I've seen."

And with that she gave him a pointed look.

Better than he expected. He didn't have anything else to test her with at the moment.

"You haven't seen me in action yet, but I don't think I could live up to Peeta, could I? That's what happens when you're totally in love, you can't see anything but the best in someone."

There wasn't much sting behind the statement. He couldn't blame Katniss for being blinded by her own feelings.

"Few people are."

It wasn't a lie, or tainted by her feelings. Of course Finnick couldn't know it was all an act. Although he might not be the best at some skills, Peeta was still one of the best people Katniss had ever meet.

Still, his second comments had soothed some of her ruffled feathers.

"You've been doing this awhile." She added. It was a bit of an obvious statement. Even though he was only a handful of years older than her, he's won this so young.

He was glad to see she wouldn't hold his words against him for too long, especially once he'd made something of a peace offering. He didn't want to be too cruel to Katniss, he felt sorry for her in a lot of ways.

"I've been doing this long enough to know you're never really prepared for it. You tell yourself you are, and that this time you're going to keep it all together, nice and neat. But then you get here and one of your tributes is just a kid who actually managed to come from worse circumstances than you did and against trained killers and people who actually enjoy the chase and capture what kind of chance do they stand? And you don't just let them sink away into your memories anymore, where they can be safe and quiet and fade away. You have to be there to pick them up when they get hauled back here. You'd better have a heart of stone under that frosty glare or you won't make it much longer."

As much as she wanted to claim she didn't, it was a lie. It wasn't even those innocent that haunted her mind. Rue caused her heart ache, of course, every time she thought about her. But so did Cato, so did Marvel.

Maybe they weren't innocent, but she didn't know. They killed...but so did she.

She swallowed, and felt again that gross relief that came from knowing, at least right now, that 'death' here meant you woke up the next day in the tribute tower.

"I'm sorry." She said, before she could even think about it. And then was kicking herself after. Sorry meant nothing here.

"Nothing to be sorry for, you're in the same boat I am now." He forced a smile, he really hadn't meant to upset her so much so quickly.

"I just hope you know how to swim, because it's rough waters to be sailing on and this boat is not as steady as it could be."

When in doubt, go back to your roots. Finnick had enough fishing metaphors to fill a book, they came in handy when he was being interviewed or cornered by Capitolites. They expected as much from him.

"I guess I'm luck then. I'm about the only person in 12 who does."

She gave a tight smile, one without much joy in it, but one that was, at least, sincere.

"I didn't expect any of this to be easy. But I can't say I expected it to be this."

Finnick decided to file that little tidbit away. It might come in handy later.

"What did you expect? I'm really curious, because I know that being a mentor wasn't exactly what I expected when I won either."

He was genuinely curious.

"Honestly? I just tried not to think of it."

She knew that had to be an unsatisfying answer, so she racked her brain for something, anything more to offer.

"Haymitch was the only mentor in 12. Before being reaped...it was rare to even see him. I had no concept of what mentoring even really was until being in the games, and everything moved too fast after...first the tours, then this." She waved her hands vaguely towards the hologram in the middle of the room. "I just knew it would be awful."