HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 50

There was a first time for everything.

The first time she wore a bikini in public. The first time she tried champagne. The first time she suspected someone had died on her account. The first time she found out someone had died on her account. The first time she inflicted, even if inadvertently, physical harm.

The first time tea had hurt someone.

Lilith overheard the doctor's claims that it was only superficial, that as long as the wound was kept clean, the burn would heal without a trace. Snow was discharged with less fuss than the one kicked up by her own physician, but when he rounded the curtain and materialized in her bay, all she could see was the glaring white of the bandages that bundled the suspended hand.

Dr. Bartholomeus Hawthorne had ordered Lilith multiple tests and scans, refusing to sign her papers until she was cleared on every last one. She recognized the rationale for her regular neurologist's caution and would have gladly endured it on any other day. So long as Snow wasn't there. But the reality, as they awaited the results, was that the Head Gamemaker sat in a chair by her bed. It was like the fateful day she had broken her arm. Only ten times more terrifying—and with both of them sporting slings.

When a nurse bearing a tray of the hospital's signature pick-me-up came through the privacy drapes, she glanced from one to the other with a funny expression. Snow responded with a lopsided smile.

"Yes, we're quite the pair, aren't we?"

Laughing appreciatively, she handed him a glass. Lilith was proffered another, which she accepted gratefully. It was nice to have something to do other than sitting in awkward silence, even if it was just drinking in awkward silence. The nurse, batting her eyelashes at Snow and telling him to call her if he needed anything (anything at all!), left them to it.

While Lilith only allowed herself small sips of soda, Snow indulged in a healthy swig. He smacked his lips afterward, evidently approving.

"I've always been rather fond of these," he remarked, idly surveying the bubbly, translucent liquid. "I take it you're not a—What exactly is this? Lemonade?—person?"

Actually, she was. One of the highlights of her recent stay was this very citrusy beverage. But how did you explain to your boss that you were making it last so as to have a distraction from his injury? His injury, which you were responsible for causing?

Well, you did not.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Lilith.

"For not being a lemonade person?"

"For your hand."

Snow leaned back, rested the cup on his knee, and spoke solemnly.

"You've already apologized for that." She had. On the ride here. "And I've told you it's alright." He had. "The doctor said I'll be fine in no time."

"He also said you should rest."

Perhaps it was the scald. Perhaps it was whatever plagued him before. Perhaps it was just the questionable quality of the plastic seat upon which he perched. Although not seeming as unwell as back in the office, Snow did not radiate comfort. Lilith looked over earnestly.

"Please, sir, you don't have to stay. The staff here will take care of me."

"One would think the safest place for someone of my circumstance to rest would be where they would be surrounded by medical personnel. So, if it's my welfare you're concerned about—Unless..." Snow paused, studying her with characteristic ambiguity. "Are you not enjoying my company? Because there are people out there who would kill for it."