Caged Nightingale [Hunger Games Fanfic]

Interlude: Lost and Found Moments

Lost Shirt:

"Katniss, I'm going to be late for work. Have you seen my shirt?"

He searched the damn place and he still couldn't find any of his shirts. He owned like a million of them. How hard could it be to just find a damn one? It was apparently impossible, if one wasn't just popping up right then.

There was no answer and Seneca remembered that she'd gone to take a nap earlier. He sighed and continued looking, not really too bothered about being late anyways. Nowadays, he was never too hurried about going to work, especially when the choice involved Katniss or she was affected.

After another half an hour of nothing and late to work by a full hour, Seneca just sighed and decided he'd go to work with something else. He searched through his drawers and nabbed a casual gray shirt that reminded him of Katniss' eyes, and set off to work without further ado.

He ignored the stares at work, focusing on his paperwork and the orders he had to hand out.

"It is casual Friday or something?" Plutarch asked in amusement, appearing behind him.

"No, I'm out of shirts," Seneca rolled his eyes.

"...You're actually out of shirts?" the other Gamemaker asked him incredulously.

Seneca shrugged. "I guess so. I don't know how, but it seems so."

"Strange. Good looking shirt though. Reminds me of a certain victor's eyes, if you know what I mean," Plutarch winked at him.

Seneca just ignored him and went on with his work.

When he returned home, he blinked in surprise to see Katniss still asleep. He noted that one of his shirts was on her and decided he'd go find the others before waking her up and asking what she wanted for dinner.

She was always exhausted nowadays and needed her rest.

He looked around the house before going to the laundry room, not really thinking that all of his shirts could actually be there. He stopped at the door, staring in shock at the huge pile of red shirts stockpiled right in front of the washing machine and nearly gaped.

No way. Not all of his shirts could be in there. Could they?

Well, considering Katniss had also taken to wearing his shirts most of the time (especially considering she spent a lot of her time in the house and preferred to wear it to lounge around in the comfort in her home), maybe it shouldn't be that much of a surprise. Between the two of them, the large pile of red shirts that used to solely belong to him wasn't all that much of a shock. The two of them could certainly go through his wardrobe.

He sighed and began to pile shirts into the washer, beginning to do laundry.

And when Katniss woke a little sometime later, she quietly began to help him, trying to ignore the sheepish look on her face and the light blush on her cheeks. He smiled slightly to himself, at how adorable she was being.

Lost Key:

Seneca was like a whirlwind in his office, panicking as he searched all over it for one of his few precious possessions. He couldn't have lost it. He couldn't have.

He could not have lost the key to Katniss' home.

His home.

"Seneca, is everything alright?" Gloss leaned against his door, smirking at him.

"No! Everything is wrong!" Seneca surprisingly shouted, surprising the victor.

Gloss straightened up and stopped smirking, speaking gently.