We can’t change what's done, we can only move on.

Lyric was walking into a viewing room, settling in to watch the final pre-game moments and watch the bloodbath. she had high hopes for her tributes, she always did. “good morning, Cad.” she said, amiably, as she sat beside him. flick jumped up, immediately putting her head on lyric’s lap and curling up well. lyric looked over at the crossword, trying to get a pulse on how far he was, when she caught sight of an already completed clue. “wait, I was an answer?” she asked, a grin catching on her face. weird. cool.

and then, a bomb went off onscreen, and she jumped.

flick was right there, jumping on her lap and demanding attention, to take it away from the screen. lyric buried her head in flick’s fur, simply trying her best to ignore whatever was happening. there was screaming.

Cad nodded,·“I was an answer for a clue a few days ago, thought they spelled my name wrong.”

The volume of the television was low, but despite that the sound of the explosion was clearly audible. He could feel his own heart start to race as he fumbled for the remote, muting it. Cad was familiar with explosions from his time in his arena and during the handful of failed rebellions that had occurred since his victory. Despite it being over twenty years since his games loud noises often brought him back to the sixteen year old kid running for his life with his ally.

He kept his eyes on the screen obscured by smoke and flame but he could tell there were multiple explosions in quick succession. To his right he noticed Lyric burying her face into Flick. The remote still in his hand, he turned the television off.·

“Lyric,” Cad said softly,·“the screen’s off. Are you okay?”

The day began before dawn for Cad, the city lights still illuminating the streets outside. Regardless of how many years had passed there had always been something about the visits to the Capitol that made it difficult for Cad to sleep in–or sleep much in general–whether as tribute, victor, or mentor. He fell into the routine he managed during the game once he got up from the bed: dressed himself in a nice suit, managed his hair and beard, grabbed a messenger bag with a computer for mentoring purposes, a few notebooks, and a collection of papers.

The two tributes were still in their beds though whether or not they were getting any sleep was unknown to him. Avoxes were posted around the floor, Cad gave them a nod as he passed by. Once in the elevator, he made his way down to the first few floors of the tower and into a viewing room. At this hour it was of course empty seeing as the games would not start until noon. His routine continued on, he made himself coffee at the small bar that was in the viewing room, turned on the television with the volume close to mute, set up his computer and pulled out a paper along with reading glasses from his bag. 

Across 1. Naturally occurring hallucinogen. 10 letters.

Hours passed, the pre-Games broadcast began at some point but Cad’s attention rarely went to the television, instead it shifted between the crossword puzzle, sudoku puzzles, and a notebook filled with chicken scratch handwriting of equations, measurements, and very rough sketches of what appear to be hands, arms, legs, and other limbs. Some individuals came into the viewing room and said hello to Cad but most left to be in a room more befitting to the celebration. 

Down 53. 23rd Head Gamemaker. 6 letters.

Cad was holding the paper out away from him at an angle, his eyes squinted to look through his glasses as he mouthed the clue out. The puzzle itself looked like a mess filled with his handwriting, guesses written alongside certain clues. In the corner of his eye he saw someone come beside him, a dog with them. He turned his gaze and gave a warm smile, “Good morning, Lyric, Flick.” He set his crossword back on the small table in front of him and fixed his glasses.