#vb117

“I’m afraid I can’t dance,” Satine said tiredly, sensing someone coming up beside her and guessing at their intention. “I didn’t bring my dancing shoes.” It was an awful excuse, but something in her expression and tone dared them to call her out on it.

Another Games. Another Victor’s Ball. Trixie no longer seemed to care, or at least that was how she would put it. In reality she was letting the guilt seep in again. She had gone from partying constantly to being pregnant and stopping drinking for the betterment of her daughter. But now that notion went out the door. She was on drink three and had only been here nearly an hour. She looked around the room sullenly, trying to keep her own mentor’s words in her mind about not punishing herself. It wasn’t her fault if her tributes were too high on their horse to seek advice, but maybe it was? She shoved the thoughts aside and took a sip from the whiskey in her hand. “Go away.” She muttered, feeling someone approach behind her.

Satin was sipping away at his cranberry juice leaning against the bar, watching as Sponsors and Mentors and people in general mingled. After his incident he’d been keeping a low profile not sure who knew about it and who didn’t. Scanning his eyes over faces, he saw Fiorella, the Stylist from Four that he had gone to grab a drink with that one time. Smiling, he gave her a wave before making his way over to where she was.  “Funny seeing you here huh? Love the dress, you design this yourself?”