#leander 128

The launch always made Moxie sick to her stomach; the guilt she felt in nearly condoning the murder of people so young, people who didn’t have the opportunity to truly live their lives yet. Cut short, the string severed in the Bloodbath for some, and for one lucky soul – if Moxie could even call it lucky – they’d win. The concept of being a victor shook her to her core and she couldn’t even begin to reconcile with wanting one person to win more over another – would it be Honey? Could she deal with losing Honey if she didn’t win? What about Kit? Could she let him die just because he wasn’t almost family to her? No. No Moxie had made a promise to Slate that she’d do everything within her power to keep him alive. He was her tribute. 

“Tell me about your tribute,” Pluto commanded, it was significantly sharper than she had intended, but she was growing tired of mentors and escorts continually pleading their case. She just wanted to get it over with and Leander’s approaching was exhausting her. She shot a glance up and gestured toward the man again, waiting expectantly for him to plead his case.

Sucking down Shirley Temple after Shirley Temple didn’t decrease the discomfort Moxie felt growing in her gut. Envy flooded her veins – she would’ve killed for a drink and was sure her sour attitude was becoming more and more visible with each grenadine-soaked sip. She needed to get a grip. She could stay for another hour or maybe two, make sure her presence was acknowledged, noticed, but her nerves were beginning to fray at the edges – how the absolute hell did anyone attend any of these balls straight-sober? “Do you think they have something super dramatic planned? I always feel like they do,” Moxie said, a huff slipping by her lips, and she set down her third glass unto the bar and her eyes cast over to the man next to her – lying to Leander hadn’t been easy. Claiming stomach bugs and body aches meant the flu was easier than telling him the truth. The scowl that had been pressed across her face knit into a brief look of worry before she forced a smile on up her lips; she’d be happy. It was the right thing to do. She carried on, attempting to keep her voice light and easy, “Like a part two to that stupid Thirteen documentary or something.”

To leave behind the part of herself that had indulged in pretending the Games didn’t exist would’ve been impossible; it was the only way she found she could truly relax, to let loose. It didn’t help, that a new escort was someone she had known from her partying days – not that they were exactly over yet. Upon seeing Leander in line at Capitol Coffee she not so slyly jumped the line, excited to finally run into him again. “Leander!” Moxie greeted, voice bright, putting a hand on his arm, almost too excited to have him be a part of the barbaric process of the Games, maybe he’d make it more tolerable.

She couldn’t get comfortable – lounging across her couch was about as good as it was going to get; her back ached and she would’ve given anything to find a position that accommodated her now growing stomach. With a huff from her lips she sat up, moving to lean against Leander, nuzzling her face into his shoulder. “You know, I’m kind of mad at you,” Moxie joked, pressing a small kiss onto the skin of his neck. 

Moxie was never one for self-control, vices were handled with very little regard because, well, didn’t ever like thinking on one thing too hard. If she did she would’ve turned into a big blubbering mess on the floor of the ball. Not an ideal scenario, so maybe she had a drink or two more than was advisable. Catching Leander in the sea of partygoers was all the more exciting, she considered him to be another vice that she was going to pursue with very little regard for consequences. Moxie sidled up to him, an intensely crooked smile on her face as she slurred out, “I was looking for you, I didn’t think I was going to find you.”