The 49th Hunger Games

District 5 Train Journey: Blase and Kane

I sigh. I'm next to our mentor, Stitches, as he snores loudly, his feet on the shiny wooden coffee table, and I'm faintly amused at our Capitol escort Kandi's uncomfortable expression as she glares at his shoes with disgust. Blase sits on my other side, reading some Capitol magazine and eating an apple. 

"Any good?" I ask. 

Blase jumps with surprise as I speak, and turns to face me. She lays the magazine down on her lap. "It's very strange, all this Capitol fashion." she shows me a picture of a woman with gold heart-shaped lips and pink hair about 3ft high, like a massive candyfloss tower.

"Do you think I should suggest this look to our stylists?" I joke, pouting as if I'm trying to look girly and sexy. "Do you think pink and gold would suit my complexion?"

Blase laughs, "Kane!" 

I barely know the girl, but I think if we were in a different situation I'd want to be her friend. I see no problem in trying to pass the time with a bit of laughter rather than painfully awkward silence.

Kandi still looks on edge, so I poke Stitches in the stomach and he jerks awake, his feet shooting off the table. 

Blase stifles a laugh and bites her apple, turning her attention back to the magazine and Kandi makes a 'hmph' noise of satisfaction. 

"What was that for?!" exclaims Stitches. 

He's a man of about 30 years, with slight stubble and red hair. 

Kandi glares at him, and snaps before I can open my mouth, "You with your dirty feet on that table! It has been polished very recently, and I will not have a commoner from an outline District mucking it up!"

Stitches adopts a face like thunder, and I take the moment before he barks his stinging reply to grab Blase's hand and drag her away from the argument.

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 I knock quietly on Kane's door, careful not to wake Kandi or Stitches. 

"Hm? Errr...come in." I hear his muffled voice, as if I've just shaken him out of  a daydream. Maybe a nightmare. 

I ease open his door and tiptoe in. He's still wearing his clothes for the Reaping, a checkered shirt and cream trousers. It's clear he hasn't slept at all, for his light is on and he's sat cross-legged on the bed.

"I don't want to be alone tonight," I whisper. 

His blank gaze softens as he sighs and shifts a little to the side. "Just for tonight. Only tonight," he smiles suddenly, "I don't wanna get to like you if I'm going to have to kill you."

I laugh, "Alright, but there's nothing wrong with some comfort off a person in the same situation as you..."

Kane nods and I crawl onto the bed beside him. It's white, and it's huge. There's a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling and delicate lampshades sitting on mahogany nightstands.

 He lets me lean against his shoulder. "I'm gonna miss my sisters and mother..." I yawn.

"Hey," he soothes, "You might still get to see them again yet." I know the words are empty, and the chances either of us stand are very small.

I don't reply, and Kane hugs me tighter.

"I don't want to die either, Blase. I don't think any of us do." Kane whispers, "Maybe that determination is what makes everyone at least a somewhat worthy opponent."

I realise he's right, and that's true. We all have a chance, be it a tiny one. "You're right, Kane. Don't count anyone out. Because they just might surprise you." 

"That's the spirit!" he chuckles, rubbing my shoulder. "Just think, tomorrow night, we'll be dining in the Capitol. At least if it is our 'last supper', it'll be a good one."