BOOKER BOY.

Some tributes and their tokens

   maysilee never would have thought someone from 12 could be meaner than her,   but haymitch was certainly giving her a run for her money. it was expected from her, really, and she was an equal opportunist mean girl. everyone received the same treatment from her, save for the girl who shared her face, and she definitely didn't comment on things people had no control over. haymitch, on the other hand, was supposed to be somewhat likable. commenting on the odds wyatt's father would put on him winning - that was too far, even for her.

   if she was anyone else, maybe she'd give him a break given the night's events,   but louella was dead & that sobering reality did not affect only him. & while devastating, they would be doing themselves a disservice to take even a second to fall apart. wyatt had been smart to continue to factor in their odds. whether they liked it or not, in a few days time they'd be fighting for their lives. being prepared was the best they could do.

   she'd been silent in the van, even as the two of them waited for haymitch to join them,   but seated next to him at the tribute apartment while the latter was in the bath, maysilee finally spoke up. ❛ don't let him get to you. he's just angry he got himself reaped when he would have been in the clear and he's upset about louella. considering where we stand isn't a bad thing. being an oddsmaker will help you make the best decisions to increase your chances in the games. ❜ brows furrowed when a ' our chances ' followed, but he elaborated before she could form a question.

   we're a team, aren't we ?

he'd been quiet ever since the comment had been made, striking him deep, to his core, causing reality to seep into every crack that flourished from haymitch's painful blow. he knew his odds weren't good, anyone could see that just by looking around the room. knowing numbers wouldn't help anyone in the arena, and his only other favorable skills rested in mining and, well, everyone knew how miners turned up in the arena — dead.

he'd chosen to come out of his room when he saw haymitch slip down the hallway, making his way to the bathroom to take a bath. and only then did he reappear, making his way past to the dinner table, being offered a sandwich since he'd missed the bulk of what was to be dinner. and he's quiet next to maysilee, not saying much as he takes a bite. nor as he chews, swallows, or goes in for another bite. even when she speaks, he doesn't look at her at first, body only going a little tense, still on edge from the realization that to his father, right now, he was nothing more than a bad bet.

that is, unless he could change it.

she would recognize his voice anywhere, the voice that so often got her red-hot with anger due to the way he spouted out numbers, odds for tributes chosen in the games. what was he doing in HER MEADOW ? it wasn't her meadow, but she felt a possessiveness over it, the way her geese grazed there. that was where THE COVEY spent countless hours playing music for their own enjoyment. it was where her and haymitch had shared their FIRST KISS. it was special to lenore dove, something that wyatt needed to steer clear from if he knew what was good for him.

❛ i'd turn back 'round if i were you. ❜ lenore dove warned, watching him from up on the tree branch. ❛ meadow's been infested with these geese from the capitol. set to attack people they think pose a threat to their way of life. saw one running around here earlier, so i climbed THIS TREE to get away. been too scared to leave. ❜ it was a dirty trick, but this meadow was pretty sacred to the curly haired girl, and she wasn't going to let him ruin it. she knew his type : ROWDY AND DISRESPECTFUL. the less people that wandered into the meadow the better, anyway. her geese deserved peace, and she needed to provide that for them.

another day in the mines. it had only been a few weeks since he'd aged out of school and found himself readied up for his next endeavor, little time wasted on making another district citizen useful in their own way. while he'd stay neutral if you asked him, in truth, he hated it with every ounce of his being. which is why he needed to escape, to find a place that was the complete opposite than the stuffy tunnels that were pitch black and ashy, where breathing was harder the deeper you went. but no, out here there was sunshine, he could take in a deep breath without worry, there was room. and he could, if only for an hour or so, free himself from the chains that were to be his future until the day he died.

what he didn't expect to see was someone else out here, and when he spots lenore dove, he can't help but say something to her. it's not like they were cordial by any sense of the word, nor had they spent any time together besides the chance encounter where she'd spit her distaste towards him for what his family did. she wasn't alone in her sentiment, but that didn't mean he couldn't have a little fun with it anyway. that is, until she describes what seems to be territorial geese. and he looks around for any of those rogue birds almost instantly, knowing his odds against one wouldn't be so bad, but if there was a flock of them, he knew he didn't stand a chance.

@oddsmade  𝐰𝐲𝐚𝐭𝐭  𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰  said:  ❛  you  look  like  you've  got  something  to  say.  ❜

Maysilee  raises  her  eyebrows  at  his  remark,  finger  pausing  mid-motion  where  it  had  been  idly  tracing  one  of  her  necklaces.   “   don’t  i  always?  there’s  nothing  in  this  messed up  world  i  don’t  have  something to say about.   ”   she  says  dryly.  but  the  thoughts  that  had been pressing in  like  thorns  into  her  mind don't ease, not  even  with  Wyatt’s  interruption.

she  stares  ahead,  eyes  unfocused,     “    you  talk  a  lot  about  odds  and  chances  .  .  .  but  what  would  you  actually  do?    ”    and  with  that,  the  girl  beneath  all  the  snark  and  quick  wit  slips through.    “   when  it  comes  down  to  killing  someone  —-  just  so  you  can  survive.  to  tip  the  odds  in  your  favour  .  .  .  would  you  do  it?   ”    

body goes rigid at the question, though it's not like he shouldn't have expected it. after all, the idea of the arena, the games, it's all he could think about since getting reaped, so in reality, the chances of him being the only one pondering the situation at this point had to be slim to none. but he pauses despite, rolling a scrip coin between his fingers, watching as the metal slides over his own calloused fingers from working in the mines. such contrast, like how he felt sitting in the middle of this room, a boy from district twelve, never meant to see such finery, at least not if he wasn't days away from his own death.

❛❛ ─ don't think i have any choice. ❜❜ he says after a moment, words chosen carefully, tone distant as eyes shift up to meet hers. of all the time spent in twelve, he never thought he'd be sitting across from maysilee donner of all people, but here she was right in front of him. a townie, not like him. yet now, somehow, she had become his ally. which meant, at this point, she was the only person he could rely on to possibly up his chances of surviving in the arena. ❛❛ the odds of coming face to face with that decision is about ... ninety - five percent. ❜❜