( selfless sacrifice. )

         She’s not intentionally rude; she would like to trust this stranger, yet she can’t help but eye him warily. Part of her feels bad. She knows that this isn’t how she should behave, how they would want her to behave, but it seems like it’s impossible to behave normally all the time after the Games. She played one of their Games ALREADY and now plays another one every time she visits the Capitol. It should be expected that she can’t keep up the facade at all times.

          Despite her inner feelings, however, she fixes a smile onto her lips; an underlying apology hopefully visible to him. It’s not fair that he suffers just because she does.

           ❝ Haymitch------ ❞

           She starts, although she goes quiet immediately afterwards, contemplating her next words. They don’t think positively of any inter-district mingling, so she knows that her visit to District Twelve’s floor further seals her fate in the Arena. However, the old lady hardly cares about that. She won’t come out of there anyway, so her behavior before she enters the Arena hardly makes any difference. That’s one of the factors which encouraged her to come here and find the lone mentor of Twelve. Besides, even though she cares for all the mentors in the Game this year, Haymitch is the only one she trusts with what she’s about to ask.

           ❝ Could you do a little favor for me? ❞

          ❝ CORA. I--- I didn’t expect to see you here. ❞

        ❝ My dear, could you give me your opinion? Do you think I could ‘rock’, or whatever you kids say these days, these sunglasses? ❞

❝I’m totally calm, I’m totally cool. I promise.❞ Which is a lie, but not intended to fool Mags but himself. He takes a deep breath and sits down, his fingers idly playing with each other. ❝I am waiting— none months. It feels like a lifetime, I really just want to meet my baby… I must sound so sappy right now.❞

        She can’t help but smile widely; warmth radiating even though there are no tooth left anymore. She knows that his words are a lie, but it’s a harmless one, so she doesn’t bother it further. Besides, there are better things to do. For example, she can now admire the real, genuine smile on his face and revel in the fact that there’s not much need for any other smiles than this one.

          ❝ You sound like every new father does when they’re having their first child. It’s perfectly normal to be sappy, dear. ❞

        ❝ Johanna, dear, do you have a MOMENT ? It won’t take long, I promise. ❞

         Her mind is currently, like their entire country, a warzone. There are two forces, two STRONG desires, fighting against each other. One is her desire to be somewhere else; she doesn’t want to enter the room and reveal herself to the person who resides there. She doesn’t want to cause him any more shock; poor boy is already traumatized and she detests the idea of hurting him more. However, every time she looks at the door, she’s filled with a selfish desire to see him. She wants to tell him that she’s alright and, most of all, wants to APOLOGIZE for not sharing this important detail with him. It was necessary, but even now her heart aches at the memory which resurfaces: the look on his face after her ‘death’.

          She glances at Plutarch who’s standing a few feet away from her. After receiving an encouraging nod from him, she takes a deep breath ( although it does little to calm her ) and pushes the door open, stepping inside the room with slow and unsure steps. Immediately her gaze finds the familiar person and god, it’s like she’s never known pain before this moment. Her voice is quiet, due to both hesitation and genuine speech impairment, as she speaks.

          ❝ Finnick, dear ------------------- ❞

          ❝ I apologize sincerely if this is too forward of me. You don’t have to answer this, but I can’t help myself. --- You are NOT Katniss’ real cousin, are you? ❞