The Desert's Edge ➣ Gloss/OC

You are a bolt of lightning in a snare,

Chapter Five | You are a bolt of lightning in a snare,

"It is too rash, too unadvised, too sudden;

Too like the lightning, which doth cease to be."

2.2, 118-119 Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare

A month after their initial night together, Elara finds herself in Gloss's bed again. She honestly doesn't know if it had been an accident or not. When he had heard that she was in the Capitol at the same time as him, Gloss had invited her to grab a few drinks with him. They were both a little tipsy. She can't remember exactly how this happened, but...she likes it. Being with him. She almost feels like she shouldn't, but she does.

Upon her very reluctant agreement with President Snow a month or so ago, Elara's been with far more men than she ever thought possible in only one month's time. It's strange and horrifying how much she's changed since her first night in a client's bed. She's not the same innocent youth that she'd been before. She hasn't been since she had stepped out of the arena.

When Gloss wakes up and realizes that she's in his bed, he doesn't comment on it. He probably doesn't even remember much of last night. Or so she thinks.

"Morning," he grumbles with a wide yawn, throwing his arms up over his head and stretching. The sheet that's covering them shudders down a bit, revealing the toned and very muscular chest that she's getting more and more familiar with.

He's so blasé about the matter that Elara sarcastically drawls, "Why yes, I'm in your bed and we're both naked. I don't remember how that happened, do you?"

He chuckles as if this happens all the time for him (she really hopes it doesn't) and responds with a sleepy shrug. "Dunno. My memories are always fuzzy when I drink vodka. Why – is that a touch of shame I hear in your voice, Winston?"

She sends him an unimpressed glower. "Shame isn't quite the right word for it," she quips, sitting up and searching for her clothes. Gloss smirks.

She tries not to look at him. Yes, she's seen more naked men than she cares to admit this past month, but she still feels uncomfortable at the thought of nudity. And Gloss – well, he's a very fine specimen. She doesn't want him to think that she's a complete prude, but she also doesn't want to come across as the total opposite either.

Elara isn't sure whether she wants to impress him, or just ensure that he doesn't make fun of her for her lack of experience in these matters. As she wiggles to the edge of the bed and grapples with her shirt, he makes a noise that sounds suspiciously like a laugh. Annoyed at him, she glares over her shoulder, opening her mouth to tell him to shut up, but the moment she gets a good eyeful of him, her words die on her tongue.

In the light of morning, Gloss Augustine is incredibly gorgeous. It occurs to her that she hasn't actually looked at him properly yet. The first morning, he had to leave very early to catch his train back to District 1, and she was far too sleepy to take notice of him after muttering out a brief goodbye. But now...well.

As he sits up in bed with the sheets slung low to his hips, Gloss's tanned skin is on full display. Perhaps it's just his muscular physique, but he makes the room seem small. His broad shoulders boast at the fitness training he's undergone in his home district, and with his mussed up hair and hazel eyes, he creates an image that any woman would drool over. And – he's smirking widely at her, as if he knows exactly what she's thinking. She really hopes not.

"Cat got your tongue, Winston?" he drawls, and purposefully raises his arms over his head in a seemingly casual position. He blinks at her with very amused eyes. She's not positive, but she suspects that he's deliberately flexing his biceps.