HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 58

As Coriolanus steadied his apprentice, he was grateful for two things: that she was a lightweight human being, and that he'd elected not to fill his mug too fully. Despite an all-glass wall and the perfectly lit environment, Lilith had entered the pantry and walked straight into him. Like he was completely invisible. Non-existent.

He could have avoided her, of course, but he preferred to make a point.

With a tiny yelp, Lilith's head shot up, golden eyes wide and teeming with alarm. Coriolanus produced his most winning smile.

"I'm considering banning hot drinks from this office as a safety measure. What do you think?"

Glancing the steaming cup of coffee in his hand—his healed left hand—Lilith gulped and lost a more than a bit of colour.

"I'm sorry, sir. Won't happen again." Stumbling backward, she just stood there, averting his gaze. Coriolanus let the silence stretch on as he watched her squirm. Some things never changed. After a time, Lilith said, "Thank you for the rose."

Her voice quivered with nervousness, but it was a commendable attempt, and Coriolanus obliged to drop the subject. For now.

"Don't mention it," he replied. "I'll see you in my office?"

"Yes, sir. I'll be right there."

And she was. Along with their legal clerk. Between all the red tape and having to pick up the slack for their fallen comrade, the three of them made for a common sight these days. When Coriolanus was lucky not to be waist-high in forms soliciting restitution plans for any prospective damage to nature induced by the construction and employment of his arena, he made mental notes to his future self.

Furious as he was with Ulysses Monty, Coriolanus decided to leave his dismissal to someone else. After all, it was the War Department, from which the imbecile had been transferred to their division, that had somehow missed his unvaccinated status. They had to clean up their own mess. As the lawyer's direct supervisor, Coriolanus was only obligated to report any extended leaves of absences and the reasons leading up to their necessity. His writeup contained just enough specifics to incriminate Monty and ridicule the War Department while still carrying the tone of being fair and veracious.

As it had been filed, he had Gaia order a gift basket to the hospital, then appended countrywide mandatory immunization to the list of changes he would implement as president, behind streamline protocols and reevaluate environmental import. The waste of manhours was criminal.

Come seven o'clock and he was tempted to add outlaw Valentine's Day. Granted, their paralegal wasn't abandoning his post on such a lame pretext—not outwardly, anyway—but Coriolanus couldn't possibly outlaw having children. If anything, their birthrate had to be improved. There had to be people to govern, to protect, to control. People to watch the Hunger Games. People to participate in the Hunger Games. Pro-fertility policies joined the list.

Shuffling his work into a haphazard pile, Justus Finch muttered his apologies and bade them goodbye with a bow.

"I hope Atticus feels better soon," said Lilith.

The new father rushing off to a call from his wife about something amiss with their two-month-old son thanked her for her kind words. After he'd disappeared, Lilith turned to Coriolanus with a look that simultaneously cemented and swayed his resolve.

He wanted Valentine's Day forbidden, and he wanted it forbidden now. He wanted sentimentalism to not just die, but be punishable. Humans would be so much more efficient if they could just put their emotions aside. Then again, love was a formidable force. Only a fool would deny it. People did—would do—all sorts of things in the name of love. If that power could be harnessed, could channeled toward something useful...