When Luck Runs Out

More Makeup Than a Department Store

"They're horrible people John, they're just jealous, it's okay." Mrs. Hudson assured, patting his shoulder awkwardly, obviously not knowing what to do.
"Why don't you go back to the train with Sherlock, we'll handle this." Molly suggested.
"Oh so I get to baby sit?" I groaned.
"No, you get to take care of your traumatized boyfriend, now go." Molly insisted, practically pushing me out the door with John in my wake. I could hear shouts from the people below; obviously the peacekeepers were doing anything but keeping the peace.
"Don't listen to them." I insisted, letting him take my hand and lean into my shoulder.
"It's true though, I murdered him." John muttered, still sniffling but obviously getting over the worst of it.
"If you hadn't, he'd had killed you. It wasn't murder it was self-defense." I assured.
"The entire District hates me; I didn't even know that was possible." He muttered.
"I don't think the entire district hates you, they were probably influenced by the other families and rose up together." I assured.
"Do you think this would count as a rebellion, is Snow going to get involved?" he asked fearfully.
"I don't know, but for now, we're not going to worry about Snow. We're going to go to the train and we'll watch crappy TV and drink hot chocolate." I insisted.
"That sounds okay." John decided.
"Cheer up John, you've only got the Capital banquet tonight, and then you're free!" I pointed out.
"That's tonight! I thought it was tomorrow." John groaned.
"Hey, you get to get it over with sooner. It'll be fine John, you don't even have to talk to people." I assured.
"Snow won't be there will he?" John asked nervously.
"He will, but you don't have to talk to him either." I assured.
"I had to talk to him when I got crowned, he sounds so evil, and he looks so evil up close..." John muttered.
"That's because he is evil John, and someone needs to stop him one day. But that's not today, today we can relax and recover and not worry about whatever the future holds." I decided, leading him onto the deserted train.
"Was my speech that bad?" John asked with a small little laugh, as if trying to make this whole thing a joke. I thought it was anything but a joke, to see John get pelted by an entire District; it probably hurt me more than it hurt him.
"I thought it was great, really moving actually." I admitted.
"Oh ya, very moving." John muttered.
"It's over now John, and you never have to go back there again." I pointed out.
"Wonder if they come after the train?" he asked, his face white as he peered out the window.
"They won't, the peacekeepers sorted it all out, and both of us are able to defend ourselves just fine." I assured, patting his head and going over to the kitchen to make hot chocolate.
"Now you're like Mrs. Hudson." John laughed as I came over to the couch with two chunky glasses of hot chocolate.
"I hope it's okay, I've never really made hot chocolate before." I admitted, wrapping us both up in a blanket and letting his snuggle into my chest. I turned on the TV, and we just watched some horrible day time television soap opera, where all the people cried every episode and the family tree is so elaborate and the relationships are just the worst, most forced things in the world. If only the writers could make love real, not kissing every couple of minutes and fighting every episode and breaking up and then proposing and leaving the aisle and then finding out that your spouse was your long lost cousin because your mother's sister actually wasn't dead...it was all just trash. Love was emotional, not physical, it wasn't getting married or kissing or any of that, it was times like this, with your significant other curled up on the couch with you, the feeling of peace, of acceptance, that was love. And that's how I know that I love John, and that John loves me.
"This hot chocolate is terrible." John decided. Or not.
"I'm no master chief." I insisted.
"I didn't even know it was possible to make chunky hot chocolate either, and the rest seems to just be water." John pointed out. "Did you stir it?" he asked, as if in an interrogation.
"You're supposed to stir it?" I asked guiltily.
"Oh my god, Sherlock, you're so hopeless." John laughed, setting his hot chocolate down on the coffee table with a laugh. For just being publicly humiliated, he seemed pretty calm about it. Much less calm then I'd be, I think I'd just jump into the crowd and fight back, knocking them out and throwing their stones right back. It's a wonder I'm not in prison by now.
"So do I have to get dressed up?" John asked.
"You have to look runway ready unfortunately." I sighed.
"That means you do too." John pointed out.
"We all do, we're all representing District Twelve, not just our little Victor here." I insisted.
"It'll be all formal won't it?" John scowled.
"Yep, but the food is really good." I shrugged.
"I thought you didn't eat food." John pointed out.
"Not usually, but I made a special exception because that food was just so good." I insisted.
"You didn't take that puking potion did you?" John asked.
"No, of course not. I'm not going to betray my district that much." I assured.
"Good. I'm not planning on doing that tonight." John decided.
"What a good little soldier." I laughed.
"You're a little rebel." John pointed out.
"Opposites attract I suppose." I shrugged.
"I suppose they do." John agreed, snuggling even closer. I kissed the top of his head, something I enjoy doing for some reason. Not even on the lips, like on his forehead or on his nose or the top of his head, I thought it was just the sweetest way to show affection, and occasionally it's socially acceptable to do in public places.
"When do you think the others are going to get back?" John asked.
"I don't really care." I insisted.
"I just hope they're all right, I really don't want a riot or anything." John sighed.
"There won't be a riot; the peacekeepers will sort it out. There's nothing to worry about." I assured.
"If there was, would Snow punish me?" he asked.
"I don't think so. You didn't say anything out of line, and you didn't really do anything bad." I shrugged.
"I didn't talk bad of the games though, I let them see behind the veil, how emotionally tolling the whole thing is." He pointed out.
"But everyone has to already know that." I pointed out.
"I didn't. Before I got into this whole thing I thought what everyone else thinks, once you get out of that arena you're set for life. All you have to deal with is finding a place to put all your money. And then I met you." He shrugged.
"Wow, thanks." I snapped.
"That's not what I mean, just the first night I was on the train you hacked your bedpost off with a knife." He pointed out.
"Oh ya, I forgot about that." I laughed. I had a terrible dream that night, and instead of being normal and simply waking up, I had, in my sleep, attacked my bed and almost attacked everyone on the train, who had attempted to wake me up. Ah, good times...
"I'm lucky I never had anything like that." John decided.
"You are extremely lucky." I agreed.
"People just assume that taking a life is as easy as it looks in the movies, just cut their throat and move on. They never understand what it does to you." John sighed.
"Well, you told them during your speech." I pointed out.
"And that's why I think Snow is going to hunt me down." he agreed.
"He has nothing against you John, I assure you." I insisted. John just smiled, unconvinced. At that moment the stylists and the moms returned to the train, all looking very stressed out.
"Is everything okay?" John asked at once, detangling himself from our shared blanket and going right up to the returning party.
"Everything is fine, the peacekeepers handled it." Mrs. Hudson assured.
"Are you sure?" John asked.
"We're sure." Molly assured.
"Because if Snow sees this as some sort of rebellion, then my life would end." He decided. "Literally."
"You'll be perfectly fine John; I'm sure no harm will come to you." Mrs. Hudson assured.
"That's what I've been trying to tell him, but of course he won't listen." I sighed.
"You should listen to Sherlock, even though most of the time he's just hot air..."
"Hey!" I protested.
"...He sometimes knows what he's talking about." Mrs. Hudson finished.
"There's no need to worry John, the only thing we have to do is get you two dressed up." Sara decided, leading the three of us away to get changed out of our formal suits and into some normal clothes for a little while. The train was already off, and looking back on the District, which now looked so small, you'd never have guessed it housed the most horrible, most violent rich spoiled people in all of Panem.          

               The train ride over was almost unbearable, the Stylists fussed so much about what we were to wear that we had to try on a thousand different suits until they were satisfied. In the end the color pattern was gold, just like the golden suits John had to wear during his games. There had definitely been worse outfit choices (like the light pink ones they made us try on, I felt like Miss. Piggy), and I guess the gold looked okay on me. Molly was wearing some long, flowing, silky golden ball gown that looked so uncomfortable, so score one for men's fashion. Mrs. Hudson was also dressed for the occasion, in a golden dress that was more her age. The squad all looked golden (literally).
"How do I look?" John asked, coming out of his little changing room and twirling for me, as if there were some sort of fabric that would spin. Nothing did of course, but it was kind of entertaining just to watch him make a big fool of himself.
"You look beautiful darling." I insisted, waving my hand like some valley girl or something.
"Wow, you really are gay." John laughed.
"You say it as if you weren't my boyfriend." I pointed out.
"Can't argue there." John sighed.
"Makeup time, get in the chairs!" Anthea announced, pushing us over to the four large makeup chairs, and doing all of this makeup until I simply couldn't feel my face. When we were done I inspected myself in the mirror, they had put flame looking eye shadow up to my eyebrows, faint golden lipstick, and even put golden specks in my beautiful hair. I felt extremely pathetic, but it made me happy to see that John was subjected to the same torture I was.
"Oh don't you just look golden." John joked.
"Shut it." I snapped.
"I think I'm getting relatively used to this makeup thing." John decided, puckering his lips to mash the lipstick together.
"You're a psycho." I decided. The train was approaching the hell hole of our society, I could see the tops of the skyscrapers in the horizon, and the river that flowed near was up ahead.
"Almost there." Mrs. Hudson pointed out. "It's so nice to come in Victory, and not just handing another poor soul to their games."
"It's almost like it's a vacation." I pointed out, and Mrs. Hudson just smiled. She had her makeup done a little bit more conservatively, which was totally no fair because John and I were men, and we still had more makeup on than she did. And she was even from the Capital, and I'm convinced some of them bathe in concealer.
"It's not a vacation Sherlock, it's only a tad bit less stressful then the regular games." She pointed out.
"Well, I'd totally rather be home right now." I decided.
"We'll be there soon, just hold in there." She assured. "You look very nice by the way."
"The makeup itches my face." I pointed out.
"Fashion really does kill Sherlock, you just have to get used to it." Mrs. Hudson shrugged.
"Women have to get used to it, us strong manly men shouldn't have to." I pointed out sarcastically.
"You are the least manly man I know." Mrs. Hudson defended.
"It was a joke." I pointed out.
"Well I think it makes you look nice, it really emphasizes your cheekbones."Mrs. Hudson pointed out.
"Oh thank the lord, you can see my cheekbones." I muttered.
"They are a nice feature of yours Sherlock, don't be so modest. I'm sure John finds it very attractive." She pointed out.
"Oh my god, leave it to you to make a perfectly normal conversation turn weird." I groaned, looking around to make sure John hadn't heard that. Thankful he was busy talking with the stylists, who were fussing over his hair part.
"It's not weird, it's young love." She pointed out with a smile.
"That's weird." I insisted, crossing my arms and trying to look as uncomfortable as I could, but of course she just went on.
"Well, you're at the age when you just can't deny it, and I think it's great that you found yourself someone you really click with. See when I was eighteen I had this boyfriend, he was the most attractive..." Mrs. Hudson started.
"Okay, stop there, thank you." I interrupted. Mrs. Hudson just sighed, as if she were just bursting to tell me of her love life, which would probably make me want to gorge out my eardrums.
"When is your birthday?" she asked.
"Soon, I think." I groaned, not even bothering to think.
"You don't know your own birthday?" she asked.
"I never needed to know my own birthday, and there are a lot of better things on my mind than my birthday." I groaned.
"So you could be nineteen, and you wouldn't even know it?" she asked.
"I suppose my parents would make me a cake or something, so I'm sure I'm still eighteen." I decided.
"You really need to sort out your priorities." Mrs. Hudson decided.
"I have, and I think this Capital banquet, where Snow could either subject us to more royal life or send us into a spiraling pit of bad propaganda is a little bit more important than how many years I've been on this retched planet." I decided.
"Always positive." Mrs. Hudson sighed. Thankfully, before she could criticize my life choices anymore, she was swept away by Molly, who was very keen on knowing the schedule for that night.