FAILURE TO COMPLY ┃ f. odair

1.7 performers, not fighters

Calypso hadn't slept much that night. Things with Payton had turned sour quickly, and after he'd threatened her she'd simply stalked into her room, pushing a chair under the handle and watching the door as if he was going to kick it down any moment and attempt to kill her. But no, every glance he sent her way made sure that she knew he was saving it for the games.

Somehow, a three minute interview was made into a whole day event. Monica had awoken the young tributes before the sun had even risen, and before they'd finished breakfast Vega and Lorelei were already invading the apartment carrying incredible amounts of fabric and accessories.

That's where she was now, thankfully far away from the murderous Payton and her overprotective father and her emotionally distant mother. Instead, she was with both Vega and Porter, two people who should've clashed, but ended up being the exact people she needed after the past few days. One was giving her energy and excitement, while the other kept her equally grounded.

"Ugh! Wonderful!" Vega complimented himself again after adding another perfect stroke of pink lipstick Calypso's makeup. It was a muted look, yet he'd been utterly meticulous in making sure every blemish was covered, and that she had enough foundation and powder on to ensure her natural blush was invisible. She looked like a porcelain doll, but infinitely beautiful. "It's so nice to have a face I can finally work with. The tribute last year had such a big nose, and-"

"Her name was Kaya," Porter interjected, flipping through her notecards one more time as she paced back and forth.

"Right," Vega replied, pointing the makeup brush towards his counterpart. "A darling really, but she sounded so nasally. I could hardly watch her interview when she sniffled and cried. It was-"

Tragic? Haunting? He was probably going to say pathetic.

"I know," Calypso interrupted him. "I saw it."

Vega went to say something else, but Porter stepped in before he could. Sitting in the armchair placed next to the bed, she leaned forward and tilted Calypso's chin upwards in her direction. The older woman was already taller, but her completely straightened spine gave her even more height over her. The metal spine she'd gotten after her games made it so that she was forced to appear poised always.

"I need you focused now, lovely," she instructed, a small smile appearing on her face as she took in the appearance of the girl before her. Of course, she would always prefer her as she knew her in Five, but the Capitol was going to love her, and it only bolstered her chances of survival. "Vega can work around us. Tell me how you'll greet Caesar on stage."

"I'll let him greet me," Calypso replied, feeling a lot more confident after coaching from Porter. "My attention will be on the audience."

"Waving, smiling, blowing kisses," she reiterated. Vega straightened himself and gave his best posh wave. "Answer questions as honestly as possible without dipping into your... rebellious side."

"Rebellious?" she echoed with furrowed eyebrows. "I'm perfectly fine. I'm well behaved."

"You are, but-"

"Oh please," Vega scoffed lightheartedly, his fingers waving in the air dramatically. "You sigh and all I can hear is a thousand silent complaints. You can't help it, my sweet. You've got this resting bitch face you inherited from your father. But it's fine, because it suits you."

"I have been nothing but cooperative-" the girl refuted.

"Ah-buh-buh-buh," he droned. The man clasped Calypso's lips closed so that she couldn't say anything more. "I can't have you telling me I'm wrong, because I've never been wrong before. You'll ruin my day."

Well, they couldn't have that. For all his pomp, she actually really liked him. He was a blinding light in the darkness of the Capitol, even if he was bordering on the same insanity as the rest of them.