𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖𝐒 | ᴄ. ʜᴀᴅʟᴇʏ

The Capital

Peeta has left the car to try and talk some sense into Haymitch, leaving me by myself-which I am perfectly fine with thank you very much. I need some space anyways. For a few minutes I look out the windows in silence, just thinking. Soon I will be in The Capitol. I will have to be in the tribute parade and I will have to get interviews done, which of course leaves the pressure of acquiring sponsors. I'm definitely not the best at getting people to like me. I mean, sure, I have some friends, but we're all a bunch of social outcasts who nobody else likes anyways. This is all fine by us, but I was never betting that being likeable and friendly was going to possibly save my life.

***

I wake groggily the next morning with the first rays of dawn creeping through the window. I swing my legs around and out of the bed and stand up, stretching my muscle and letting out a satisfied hum. I get dressed quickly into a simple pair on black pants and green shirt. I step out the door of the train bedroom and into the hallway. I decide I should probably eat breakfast and make my way to the dining room. As I draw nearer I hear wisps of conversation.

"Then I'd start a fire." I hear Peeta say.

"That's a good way to get killed." Haymitch retorts.

"What's a good way to get killed?" I ask, entering the room and sitting down beside Peeta. 

Haymitch looks up. 

"Morning sweetheart," Haymitch says. I frown at the nickname, it makes me feel lesser or weak. "I was just giving some lifesaving advice."

"Like what?"  I ask. 

"Oh," Peeta says. "I was just asking about how to find shelter."

Haymitch adds butter to his already over buttered toast. "Which would come in handy if you were in fact still alive."

Oh, joy! This again! I think sarcastically. 

"How do you find shelter?" I ask.

Haymitch ignores me. "Would you pass the jam?"

"How do you find shelter?" I repeat.

"Give me a second to wake up sweetheart. This mentoring is very. . .taxing stuff." Haymitch says, pouring liquor into his coffee. "Could you pass the marmalade?" I don't move so he aims to grab it himself. Before his fingers can touch it I pick up a knife and slam the point down in between his fingers, lodging it in the placemat below his hand. 

Effie lets out a shrill gasp.

"That. Is. Mahogany!" she trills in a high pitched and startled voice. I roll my eyes at Effie. Haymitch smirks drunkly. 

"Look at you, just killed at placemat." he mocks, pulling the knife out of the table. I huff frustratedly. "You really wanna know how to stay alive?" he asks.

I gesture for him to continue.

"You get people to like you." He says. I frown. "Oh, not what you were expecting?" 

It is in fact what I was expecting, I was simply hoping it wasn't the case.

"When you're in the games, and you're starving or freezing, some food or maybe some matches can mean the difference between life and death. Those things come from sponsors, and to get sponsors, you have to make people like you. And right now sweetheart," he bites into his toast. "You're not off to a real good start." he finishes with his mouth full. 

There is a beat of silence where I simply glare at Haymitch, and he glares right back. If looks could kill, the both of us would have dropped dead by now.