The Hunger Games One Shots

65th Hunger Games (pt4)

Capital

"Chaff," Haymitch breathed, his hand quickly tightening on the man's shoulder. Chaff turned around, a smile growing on his face at the sight of his friend.

"Haymitch!" Chaff cheered, standing up from the couch. "Congratulations on having both your tributes in the final eight! That's a first for you, right?" He teased, give small laugh as he punched Haymitch's shoulder.

"I need talk with you." Haymitch spoke under his breath as the eyes of the Capital people began to fall on the two friends. Chaff quickly took notice and nodded his head, a now softer smile on his face.

"Let's go find you a drink. We need to celebrate," He stated, wrapping his arm around Haymitch's shoulder, leading him towards the drink table. Most people began to trickle away, not wanting to be there at the same time as the known alcoholics. "What's the problem?" He whispered.

"My tributes. I can't get anyone to sponsor them." Haymitch answered. He grabbed a bottle, took a quick whiff, then deemed it appropriate for his beverage. He was trying to stay sober, but being around all of these blood thirsty monsters nearly drive him to the point of no return. Usually at this point in the Games, his tributes are dead so he allows him to be as drunk as a skunk. Not this year though.

"That's what happens to the outer districts, Haymitch. No one wants to waste their money on a tribute that's bound to die." Chaff replied, pouring himself a drink that was so strong that even a whiff would make most people pass out.

"But for once I have a chance to bring someone home. These kids are smart and are willing to do whatever it takes to win." He argued, shaking his curly locks. They were a little below his chin, longer than most men, but definitely not the longest ever seen.

"Then tell that to the sponsors. Show them that you know they're contenders in the Games." Chaff said, taking a big gulp of his drink.

"I've tried. No one will listen to me," Haymitch growled. He let out a long breath, brushing back his dark locks from his gray eyes. "Maybe if you help me. Ya know, tell everyone else how much you think they'll win. We could possibly get them something."

"Haymitch, you've been doing this for years. You know just as much as me that my opinion is worthless. If you want to really reel in some sponsors, you're going to have to get creative. Make up a plot. Anything." Chaff offered.

xxx

"We're in the final eight and it's only been five days. Someone out here is a killing machine." Jacob harshly spoke, helping Valerian into the tree. She had hurt her leg trying to retrieve some water from the stream and twisted it on a log in the water.

"Please, Jacob. I don't like thinking about that." She softly spoke as he helped her nestle in her nook in the tree. Jacob climbed around to the other side, resting his back against the trunk of the tree.

The sun was beginning to sink behind the horizon. Five days and nearly everyone was already dead. It had to be a record or something because in the Games Valerian and Jacob could remember, it took weeks for them to end.

"Jacob," Valerian said, earning a hum in reply. "What's it like at your house?" She asked.

What was it like at his house? At the moment, probably full of tears and sorrow. He was eighteen years old. He was supposed to be in the clear from being in the Hunger Games. But the odds were not in his favor. "It's alright if you don't want to talk about it. I just want to think of anything but these Games." Valerian explained.

Jacob let out a long sigh, softly vibrating his lips. "Well, I have five younger siblings," he began, starting with the basics. "I have three younger brothers, Marcus, Hank, and Thom. My two younger sisters are Sharah and Harmony."