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･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
"Smile," the woman to her left said as the doors opened. "Just keep walking, don't say a word." She saw the boy before her tense.
"Don't worry," Odette whispered, leaning forward while Neil began walking, leading the group through the mass of bright and loud bodies. "All you have to do it get inside."
The girl was already walking, Miles following quickly. Her eyes scanned the buildings and the people screaming her name while his eyes remained low. Odette didn't remember the first time she'd left the train anymore, every time blurring together. Even after the many years she'd arrived in the same way, it was still overwhelming, even for her.
Rory opened the glass doors, allowing them in the cool interior of the training center with a bright smile. When they fell closed behind them, Odette released a breath, allowing herself to notice the scented air and muffled shouts from outside, easy enough to ignore now. "Come on, we don't want to be late," Rory chirped. He was smaller than the fifteen-year-old boy, but somehow still took up the most room. He grabbed the tributes when they remained unmoving, Miles' eyes widening as he struggled in the hold, searching for Odette.
"It's alright," she said. They had gone over what would happen, but she knew that wasn't enough to truly prepare them. "They're going to wash you and make you ready for the stylist, remember?"
Rory tapped his feet impatiently, arms crossed. Miles took a deep breath, nodding slowly. Odette took a step closer, offering him a smile. "We'll be right there when you're ready."
"Okay," had she looked this terrified the first time she stepped in the building? Much time to ponder wasn't given, because he'd barely spoken the words when Rory ushered them in front of him.
"I need a drink," Neil mumbled when they were out of view. "Somehow, I always forget how exhausting this is."
He didn't need to tell Odette that. The train ride had taken a little over a day, and she'd spent each waking minute trying to console the tributes, answer any question they had. "We've got whiners this year," Cecelia laughed. Odette was the patient one, though she knew they didn't mean it in a harmful way. The two moved first, and Odette had to admit she'd been looking forward to the pink champagne for the majority of the day now. Even more so to take the hour to try and relax. At least to try and think about something else than the Hunger Games.
The hallway was white and bright, the fluorescent lights above them almost blinding. Cecelia halted her movemnets slightly, falling in step next to Odette and linking their arms. It was broad enough for the three of them to walk next to each other. "I hope they have those tiny tarts," she mused. "With pineapple and oranges. Last time I was here they didn't, you never find them like they do here."
