THE HUNGER GAMES: the taste of Whiskey and Snow // CORIOLANUS SNOW

Fourteen

After the sun had set, Whiskey sat on the floor so close to the window her breath was fogging up the glass. She stared out towards the courtyard and capital city. In the darkness, the street lights danced across the grass casting massive shadows that climbed up the sides of each building. Without the sunshine, each building turned into a silhouetted creature.

"So, Everdeen," Coriolanus called from the bathroom, doing up his tie. "What is it you like to do for fun?"

Whiskey pulled the ends of her hair, listening to the clink of the chains against each other. "I love to dance," she smiled, thinking back to district 12. "When I was a little girl, we'd play the jig and dance around the tables."

Coriolanus glanced at her from the gap in the bathroom door. Her upbringing was strange  and unnatural to him. Despite living in the same world, they had managed to live completely opposite lives. Feeling his gaze, she glanced up at him. He saw her memories dancing in her eyes, living out in her smile. He shook his head, focusing back on his tie. The girl from district 12 was bizarre to him.

"Good reply. Now, remember if Flickerman asks about us," he continued back on topic, "What are you going to say?"

The light flickered out in her eyes, "I'm not really sure. What's he going to ask me?"

"Okay," Snow placed his hands on the bathroom counter, looking at his reflection. "How do you feel about your mentor?"

Silence followed for a long time. Snow curiously stepped out of the bathroom, checking what happened to Whiskey. "Everdeen? You okay?"

She was on her feet, pointing at someone through the glass. "Who is that?" She asked so quietly she barely made a sound.

"What?" Coriolanus exclaimed, moving to try and see who it was. As he looked through the glass, he couldn't make out anyone in the darkness. "Where? What are you talking about."

"Don't worry," Whiskey whispered, putting down her hand. Her mind was miles away. "I... must've... yeah," she lamely explained, anxiously wrapping her arms around her waist and turning away from the window. "What were we talking about?"

Snow frowned and studied her behaviour with his sharp eyes. "Okay..." he suspiciously accepted, checking his watch. "Well, we need to go for the interview now."

They left the room and, like usual, two guards walked in step either side of Whiskey like she was a prisoner. She looked at the ground, getting ready for the stares. When suddenly, she felt an arm slip into hers. Whiskey's confusion looked up to see Snow looking straight forward, striding confidently along the hallway with her arm at side.

"Why-" She began, but was interrupted.

Snow smirked, still not looking at her face. "You're my tribute, I will not have you walked onstage by guards like there is something wrong with you. I shall accompany you."

This made Whiskey smile. "If you insist." She turned around to see the guards retiring to elsewhere, now they were not needed to assist her. She exhaled a breath of relief. It was humiliating being chauffeured around by peacekeepers with guns.

In their close proximity Whiskey could smell the freshness of the soap on his skin and the minty smell of toothpaste he tried to hide with his bottled spray of crushed wild roses. It was a strange yet complimentary scent, and she liked that, using the same free bottles provided by the academy, she knew she at least smelt similar. By smelling like him, it made her feel like she fit it a little more with the capital citizens, instead of being such an outcast.

Tonight, on Lucky Flickerman's show, that was her goal. Make the people like her. If she acted in a way they approved, people would want her to win and would give her donations. If they liked her, she may survive - or at least that's what Coriolanus had told her.

As they entered backstage, silence echoed around the room. Each tribute and Mentor judged both Snow and Whiskey for each small thing they'd done. It made her confidence slip from intimidation, until she felt a hand squeeze her own.

"We got this," Coriolanus whispered, reassuring her. They'd been practicing all evening to get this right and he trusted she'd do perfectly. She was the type of person to always know what to do.

In the very spaced out room watched over by hands with guns, each tribute left and came back a few minutes later, weighing up their successes with their mentor. Whiskey was too busy with her own nerves to have the courage to eavesdrop, though she could tell Coriolanus was. Her stomach filled with anxious jitters and her leg bounced from her boiled up energy. By the time their was three tributes to to, her palms were sweating. She wiped them on her black dress.

"You'll be fine," Snow leant over and whispered to her, noticing her nervousness. "Trust me."

"How can I trust you when I dont trust myself?" Whiskey asked, looking at him with despair. "Because to me, this does not look like a good idea. I've never been good with crowds."

"The people already love you," Snow pointed out. "And besides, I'm going to be right here listening."

"Easy for you to say, you're not the one in front of the camera," Whiskey sighed. "What happens when Flickerman goes off script and says something we didn't practice? What am I supposed to do?"

"Don't worry. Just make it up. You'll be fine, Everdeen. You always know what to say," Coriolanus replied.

"But what-"

Snow grabbed her trembling hands and held them still. "Everdeen," he stopped her mid sentence. "I believe in you."

Whiskey glanced up at him gratefully. "Thank you," she whispered.