𝐃𝐨𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞 ⌜𝘩𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘳 𝘨𝘢𝘮𝘦𝘴⌟

"Tell me, Caesar, does my hair look shinier? I think my hair has gotten softer since I've been here- what is in Capital hair masks?"

The crowd laughs. Some Capital girls touch their own hair at my comment. Caesar leans over his chair to twirl a streak of my hair around his finger, rubbing a few strands back and forth between his pointer finger and thumb,

"Why yes, yes I do think it's gotten a good bit healthier since your time here."

I smile.

Caesar is as diligent as ever, moving forwards with what's left of our allotted time. He takes a more serious approach.

"So, Jake." He turns to his audience, inviting them in on the conversation. "This must be quite the change." I don't get the time to process the implications, if any, of that assumption. "You've only just gotten here, and surely you haven't the time to take it all in."

The crowd laughs again, I laugh with them, nodding politely.

"What are you feeling? Excitement? Wonder? Perhaps some anxieties?" His tone gradually gets more sympathetic.

I pause.

"Y'all know those lions at the circus?" I don't bother coaching out my slang. Caesar looks at his crowd questionably and they laugh.

His smile is unnaturally stretched. He nods at me to continue.

"I sorta feel like them. Loads a' fun to watch, but you just 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 it wants to rip someone's head off."

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Jake Holst comes from a middle class slaughtering quarter of District 10, and for the better half of three years has backpacked across Panem against all common sense. Barely cultured, and questionably legal in District 2, Jake is reaped into the 66th annual Hunger Games when the selected volunteer gets cold feet. Dodging questions about her accent, the brand on her collarbone, and a series of unidentified sharp objects being thrown her way, it's a long way down for Ms. Holst.