Wild Card || Levi x Reader

two - when I've played out my hand

There's so many people reading this already... y'all I'm stressed out lmao this is a lot of pressure T^T

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Before you know it, you're whisked onto the train and plunked down in a seating area filled with so much luxury that you can scarcely believe it. If you spent all of your life hunting, you'd never make enough money to purchase even one of the chairs in this train car.

Sapphire Lady comes bustling in, cooing, "alright, you two, food's been served, let's go," and you're led through the train to yet another luxurious train car. There's more food on the table than you've eaten in the last year, and your mouth waters reflexively. You calm yourself; you're not eating anything the Capitol's set out for you just yet. You need a bit more restraint than that.

Neither you or the other guy from your district move. What's his name? You've forgotten already. 

He sits down before you do, helping himself to the food. You stare at it all for a second longer before you realize going on a hunger strike for the next week before the games isn't exactly the best idea, and you sit down in one of the empty seats.

You glare angrily at some little meat pastry things that look super delicious. Eventually, your district partner says, "you're allowed to eat."

"This looks too good to be true," you admit.

"It's really good," he tells you. His plate was full two minutes ago, and it's already almost all gone. 

Tentatively, you pull some of the more interesting-looking things onto your plate. You don't touch it yet, even when your stomach growls.

"Where do you think our mentor is?" the blond man asks, shoveling more food into his mouth. "Shouldn't he be here?"

"I don't care," you say, poking the food on your plate with a fork that looks like it's made of pure silver. 

He looks at you, confusion clear behind his glasses. "How can you not? He's our mentor."

"He's a drunk."

"He's won these games before."

"So?" You finally give in, tearing a piece of a pastry off. "Unless he's got something groundbreaking to tell me, then somehow," you say, pointing at your district partner- god, you don't even want to call him that- with your fork, "I'll survive."

He stares at you for another moment, stunned. You shove the pastry piece in your mouth and instantly melt in your seat: it's so good. 

You tear another piece off. The blond man mutters, "arrogant bitch."

"Cheers," you mutter in return, grabbing one of the glasses on the table in one hand and the water jug in the other. 

A minute of silence passes before the door slides open. You don't look up right away and instead listen to the footsteps: heavy set, staggered. That'll be your drunken mentor. 

You don't look up as Pixis collapses into one of the seats. You do, however, look up when the blond guy stands up, chair screeching backwards. "Zeke," he says, sticking out his hand. "It's good to meet you. I'm hoping you can teach us a lot." 

There's an awkward silence as Pixis stares at Zeke's hand. Then, he reaches across the table for one of the empty glasses. "Where's the liquor?" he asks.

Your nose wrinkles. His breath smells vile. Although you haven't had experience with alcohol- definitely not a necessity in District 12- you know what it smells like from the small kit that Petra's mother has, that rubbing alcohol that she's used to clean up your cuts and scrapes one too many times.