HEART OF GOLD | CORIOLANUS SNOW

𝘾𝙃𝘼𝙋𝙏𝙀𝙍 65

As Snow pulled back the door to the Hunger Games division, allowing Lilith to step through first, she immediately sensed something different. Practically no one was at their desks, but this wasn't quite what was weird; a Gamemaker's job was accomplished more often than not away from one. It was the buzz emanating from deep inside the office, more feverish than any regular discussion. It was the congregation assembled around Gaia's seat, looking to consist virtually all of their forty-strong team.

Someone noticed their approach and heads began to swivel around, one by one. As a hush rippled over the crowd, their stares transported Lilith back to the hallway outside Mr. Dolittle's office, to the day of the apprenticeship award. She stopped dead, temporarily forgetting how to breathe. Although Snow cast back a very suspicious look as he passed by, he did not question her or break stride. Instead, he addressed the gathering.

"What's going on? Don't you all have work to do?" He sounded annoyed, which was uncommon in such a public setting. It always seemed to be saved for her and when they were alone.

Cora emerged importantly from the mob like the heroine of a picture, sleek black ponytail swishing, an envelope brandished in her hand.

"This came for you," she announced. "From the Environmental Department."

Snow glanced from her to the label to Gaia, who was already offering him a letter opener.

"When?" He slit the seal.

"Half an hour ago," answered his secretary.

As he returned the mother-of-pearl-handled knife and shook out the single folded sheet, Lilith found herself beside him. She was probably the only one other than Snow who could see the text, but she didn't even attempt to read it. Reading someone else's correspondence wasn't in her dictionary, even if its contents meant everything to her. To her best friend.

Instead, like everyone else, Lilith tried to read him, watching as his eyes darted from end to end, waiting for some form—any form—of indication. When Snow's eyes eventually rested on a point roughly two-thirds of the way down, his face remained smooth as a mask. Lilith's heart sank. Somehow, she just knew in her gut it wasn't good news.

"Well?" prodded Cora.

Unexpectedly, both the letter and the envelope were thrusted toward Lilith. Having been staring her boots, she fumbled with it and had scarcely glimpsed more than Dear Head Gamemaker Snow when the piece of paper was snatched out of her grasp. Cora recited the rest aloud.

" 'Your application has been well received. In light of the extraordinary circumstance surrounding your request, you are invited to formally present your case before a review board on Monday, the seventh of March—' "

"That's next week!"

Quirinus's interjection roused a spurt of discontented murmuring, though mostly from the back—people around Cora were busy peering over her shoulder. She handed the letter backward, not caring who won the fight for it, and looked pensively up at Snow.

"What does it mean?"

Hands in his pockets, Snow didn't meet her gaze. He just continued staring generically upward and ahead, his expression somber and thoughtful.

"It means they haven't rejected us," he said. "It means we still have hope."

"But a presentation before a board?" Atropos was bewildered, and quite outraged. "They've never gone through such lengths just for a permit. It's always an open-shut-case."

"Are they just stringing us along?" piped up Marcella. "I heard one of the higher-ups hates the Games."

"It'll hardly be the first time we're the first at doing something," stated Snow, finally looking at them, though it seemed more of a disapproving glare from where Lilith was standing. "Besides, you know what they say: The show's not over until the mockingjay sings."