HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 4

Mr. Dolittle checked himself momentarily on the threshold, visibly taken aback by the flawless attendance, but his surprise was quickly—and praiseworthily—rearranged into an expression of pride. Looking well pleased, as if this had all been his doing, he ushered his guest into the aisle seat of the first row, which was empty, putting Coriolanus Snow within ten feet of Athena.

If she had been thirteen, she might have hyperventilated. If she had been eighteen, she would be eyeing him like a lion would a chunk of meat. But twenty-one-year-old Athena sat almost calmly in her seat—almost.

"Breathe," whispered Lilith in her ear.

Athena looked over rather blankly, then she released the air that had been trapped in her lungs in a shaky half-chuckle-half-exhalation. Her whole body was trembling, and Lilith could tell at once: this was no excitement—it was nerves. She slipped her hand into Athena's palm and, ignoring the clamminess, squeezed it.

"You've got this," reassured Lilith. Athena smiled gratefully.

"Thanks, Lil."

"Good morning," called Mr. Dolittle ceremoniously from his lectern. "As I'm sure you are all aware, we are joined by a very special someone today. My guest..." He began to enumerate Snow's accolades, all of which Lilith was already acquainted with, thanks to Athena. After the substantial tally, he declared, "It is my great honor to present to you: Head Gamemaker, Lieutenant General Coriolanus Snow!"

Promptly rising, Snow strode onto the dais and gave a good-natured bow in response to the rapturous applause he was receiving. Really, the volume was quite a feat even for the acoustics and twenty-four pairs of hands. As it went on—and on, and on—he stood, excellently-postured, and Lilith had the opportunity to admire his outfit in full for the first time: not the conventional white but an elegant cream undershirt, upon which she seemed to discern a faint graph check pattern, and a rich burgundy tie that complemented the rose pinned to his lapel.

Grandma'am Snow, undoubtedly. What had Lilith wondering, however, was if his cousin, Tigris, with whom Lilith had scored an internship in the summer, had any say in this ensemble, because the subtle touch of prints in light of its resurgence simply screamed her genius.

Smiling graciously, Snow scanned the room. He didn't offer Lilith any recognition when his eyes swept over their trio, and she hadn't been expecting him to. At their last (the first and only) encounter, she'd been disheveled: darting around in her sweats, fighting against time to get Tigris's couture out the door. Today she'd had a shower and brushed her hair. Besides, it had been an incredibly brief meeting. Athena had wheedled every last piece of information from her and it hadn't even taken five minutes. If the unremarkable physiognomy Lilith had been born with had made any impression, it could only have been due to its weariness, and there was a certain relief in having that possibility dispelled.

Finally, after several attempts and increasingly frantic gesturing, Mr. Dolittle managed to quieten them.

"Thank you, Remus, and all of you, for the exceedingly generous welcome," said Snow modestly, now addressing the class at large. "But we're not in the military here, so Mr. Snow is just fine."

"All right, then, Mr. Snow," replied Mr. Dolittle. "Take it away!"

Instead of heading behind Mr. Dolittle's lectern, which was offset to the right, Snow positioned himself in front of it, as if to be closer to them—the students—and launched right into the history of the Hunger Games. He paced up and down the length of the raised platform as he spoke, focusing on the dramatic transformation the annual sporting event had undergone over the past decade, from being just another depressing reminder of the war to the ultimate entertainment outlet it was becoming. Occasionally, he clicked on the remote controller he'd produced from his pocket, cueing side-by-side image comparisons or trend charts and figures onto the screen to illustrate his point.