LABYRINTH [FINNICK ODAIR]

one

ONLY OUTSIDE THE HEAVILY PERFUMED HOTEL ROOM COULD DREA FINALLY BREATHE. She always tried not to leave too quickly, afraid of what might be said if she showed her eagerness to get out of these visits to the Capitol— afraid of what Snow might say if one of his esteemed customers complained about Drea ruining the illusion. 

That's all this was, wasn't it? An illusion? 

To Drea, yes. She didn't love any of these people, she didn't even like them, though she had once believed experiences such as these would be reserved only for someone she liked. The sex was nothing more than an exchange to her— but to the Capitol officials who desired to lie with the beautiful, twenty-three year old victor it wasn't an illusion. They paid her in shiny gems, money, beautiful clothes, but to them it was some delusional version of real. To them, Drea enjoyed these visits, enjoyed their time together, and they didn't want to see Drea's discomfort. She could scour her body of their touch later; for now, she had to act the part. 

I'm all right. That's good. Oh, no, I don't mind. 

She was very good at acting, now— much better than she had been when she first began this victor's journey over five years ago, when she was crowned the winner of the 69th Hunger Games. Five years of limelight and four of unwilling prostitution. Thank you, Mr. President. 

Swallowing with her mouth dry as bone, Drea fiddled with the halfway laced corset she wore around her waist. In her haste to leave, she'd forgotten she couldn't fasten the corset on her own, but there was no chance she'd return to her client's room and ask for help. No, no, they'd think she was back for more, which was the last thing Drea wanted. 

Breathing was easier outside the hotel room though; yes, because the hallways were not near as perfumed as the rooms, but also because she was finished for the next few weeks. No more returning to the Capitol for anymore late night visits like these. No more awkward afters or uncomfortable durings. Just weeks of home in District Four, ocean air and seafood and Annie. 

Drea breathed in the cool, crisp hallway air as she made her way to the elevators. If she hurried, she could catch the last train leaving the Capitol and make it back to District Four by dawn. Her tall, glimmery heels in hand, Drea hurried towards the silver doors, hoping her makeup hadn't gotten too messy but also only halfway caring. Her reasoning for visiting the Capitol every few weeks was no secret to most— especially not to the crew of Capitol officials that frequented this floor of the luxury complex. 

Every step away from the room of her client was a step towards momentary freedom, and Drea's shoulders tensed in anticipation with each one. She slipped into the elevator, her long, twisted hair bouncing on her shoulders as she turned to face the doors again. Just as they were sliding closed— 

"Hold, please!" 

Out of instinct, Drea listened. She stretched and pressed the button to hold the doors open for whoever it was that requested she do so, and she prayed it was not her client, back to beg her to stay. This voice sounded much younger, deeper, and a hint familiar...