The Scent of Roses || Coriolanus Snow

Chapter XX

You felt incredibly nauseous as you walked to Doctor Gauls' office for yet another meeting to discuss changes to the Hunger Games. You had spent the last three days preparing a detailed report of your ideas, or lack thereof.

Coriolanus had told you to use the games to protect and ensure Garnett's safety, and those words resonated with you. The second your pen met the paper, all you could muster were benefits to the tributes and victors. Even during regular classes, you were slaving away on paper, writing down every idea that could benefit Garnett and those like him. You prayed that Doctor Gaul would implement these changes as fast as she did your previous ones, or you would never be able to seek Garnett's forgiveness.

The person working at the front desk of Gaul's office looked puzzled at your arrival. She was around your age, maybe a year or so older, and you could sense she was incredibly privileged. She looked like someone who would use paper currency as a tissue.

You tried to ignore her glares as you handed her the manila envelope encasing your hefty proposal. "For Doctor Gaul," you specified, clearing your throat as you waited to answer any questions she might ask you. Instead, she nodded sarcastically and took the folder from your hands, placing it on top of another folder with a mass amount of paper inside, just like yours. You paused before asking any questions, worried she would resent you more than she already did.

However, whatever was in that folder had to be related to what was in yours. There was no way both items would be placed together by chance. "Excuse me," you cleared your throat again, trying to assert yourself. "That folder you placed mine on top of, what is it for?"

The girl grunted, annoyed with how you were still in her presence and that you were talking. "It's confidential," she lied, trying to get you to leave.

You rolled your eyes, clicking your tongue as you tried to think of a way for her to answer your question. "I work under Doctor Gaul and could very well be her successor," you stated, trying not to gag over your fake confidence. "Tell me what is in that folder."

After a minute-long glare, the girl grabbed the folder from underneath yours and opened it, scanning across the pages with a look of concern. "It's also a proposal for Doctor Gaul," she said, reading the words encased in the file.

You wanted to reach out and grab it from her hands, but that would be far too unprofessional. "What does it say?" you pestered, hoping her guard had been lowered enough and she would be more susceptible to your interrogation tactics.

"It says a lot," she gulped, unsure how to describe it. "Though, it's all about the Hunger Games. The 25th Annual Hunger Games."

What? You held your arm tight against your side to not risk the immediate instinct to rip the folder from her hands and see its contents for yourself. The 25th games were ten years away. Why would anyone in their right mind plot for something far away? Ten games would happen between now and then; didn't they take precedence?

"Who wrote it?" you demanded, the urgency in your voice becoming more prominent as information was given.

The girl finally looked up from the pages, staring at you with concern. She looked back down before answering; her eyes stuck on the words like they had a hypnotic power. "Coriolanus Snow."

Your eyes widened at the sound of his name. Why the hell would Coriolanus be planning for games that would not occur for another decade? Had he gone insane? Was he planning to go away for an extended time and wanted to catch up before he left? You were riddled with questions and confusion when the doors to Doctor Gauls' office opened, the blinding white light stinging your eyes.

"So good to see you again," she jeered, a strangely grotesque yet wicked smile spreading across your face. She walked over to the girl and took the folders from her hands, seeing both you and Coriolanus had submitted one. A croaking laugh left her throat as she pried one open, and you guessed she was reading his suggestions and not yours. You tried not to look unimpressed, but your expression caught her eye.