Splintered

Chapter Twenty-Five: More than Most

 Hazel spun away from Snow, scouring for Mia and Aaron.

The sickening ruby glow of the slaughterhouse bled through the windows. All traces of her guests had vanished except for the kolaches, of course.

A part of her wished they were still there. Surely, the conversation with her hallucinations would be more comfortable than whatever discussion she and Snow were about to have.

"Oh, you know, just myself..." Hazel forced her tone to be lax, "And the ghosts, of course."

Snow hummed thoughtfully as he secured the door. The sound was benign, bordering on amused. "More hallucinations?"

Muscling her face into neutrality, she swiped crumb dust from the side of her mouth. "No more than normal."

He browsed the pastry in her hand and then her face again. "I thought this was anything but normal."

Hazel eased her chair back from the table, "Maybe I am just getting used to abnormality."

His head pitched to the side. "Are you?"

Scanning the chair Aaron had occupied, she realized all traces of seawater had dried.

She was doing just about anything but adjusting properly. "No."

Snow accepted her honesty without question. A pulse of curiosity radiated through his eyes as he contemplated the tinfoil and dessert closer. She swore a flare of famish crossed his features.

How bizarre? Did the Capitol really let senators go without?

"Would you like one?" She offered before she could think better of it.

Snow's frame stilled. His hunger-soaked observation dragged from the kolaches to her. His eyes grew detached yet somehow all too present at the same time.

Clearing her tense vocal cords, she fought for a casual tone. "Maybe it's the hunger or stress talking, but it might be the best thing I've ever eaten. Don't tell my mom." Hazel pushed the tin foil-wrapped second pastry in front of the open chair. "Besides, after what happened today..."

He popped out of his reverie, examining the vacant seat. "Breaking bread with the enemy?"

She shrugged, "It's practically a hobby now. Outside of that, today, it seems that we are on the same team."

Snow's shoulders eased as he approached, "You do know that dessert won't cover your little stunt."

"Even apricot?" She teased, pulling the kolaches to her nose, breathing in a deep whiff of the cooling tart.

A chuckle slid from him as he unfastened his coat, swiping it behind him and lowering himself into the chair across from her. "Peach would be more persuasive."

Plucking the aluminum closer, he scrutinized the dessert beckoning from its surface. Despite its inviting nature, he made no move to eat.

"Doubt it's poisoned," Hazel said, taking another bite.

Snow's eyes shot to hers, probing. "Maybe I'll wait and see what happens to you first."

"Suit yourself," Hazel nibbled on another sweet bite, "If I'm dead, does that mean I get out of the rest of the tour?"

"I prefer the breathing version of you. Besides, you're far more entertaining alive." He replied, gingerly removing his gloves, one finger at a time. Dropping them neatly on the table, he then set to work folding up his long sleeves. "There are certainly less peaceful ways to go," he acquiesced.

"Then what are you worried about?"

As he tucked under his pristine cuffs, Hazel caught an imperfection on one of his pale forearms. Along the soft underbelly were two circular discolorations. They were uniform ovals, almost the same peach tone as his skin but a few shades darker.