#c:pluto

@plutodosimetre​

@plutodosimetre​

Chip hated this. He felt awkward and even more out of place than usual. This was the largest crowd he’d been around in three months. Despite his wish to just hide in a corner with Olive until they could leave, he couldn’t help his appetite. “Uh...” Chip looked up an down a table he’d come up to, where there were rows and rows of punch bowls and poured out wine glasses and more. “I-Is th-there anything... not liquid?”

Allard’s mother liked to think she was a gardener. She wasn’t, and all the hot lamps and fertilizer in District Thirteen couldn’t make it so. Still, with the recent fire in a food storage location, more District Thirteen residents were called on to try to “grow at home.” So when Allard’s mother sent him to get seeds, he only grumbled a response and then obeyed. Standing in the domed store, he’d forgotten how routine these exchanges were, of no one asking for more than they knew they could get. He saw surprised, and immediately elated, to see a face he recognized from recent balls. “Nothing like the Capitol, is it?”