In the Wake of the Tide: A Hunger Games Fanfiction

Chapter 1

Andario woke with a start, jumping up in a sweat. His heart pounded as he struggled to breathe. The dream seemed unrealistic in hindsight, but in the moment it felt so real. It hadn't exactly been like that the day Albarus died, but it was close enough to send Andario into his frequented spiral. He took the time to regulate his breathing while a calming breeze wafted through his half-open bedroom window. Once he felt composed, he got out of bed, changed into his work uniform, and headed downstairs.
    His mother, Podesta, was already halfway through making his family's breakfast, as she normally did in the mornings. His father, Deacon, and his sister, Atlanta, both sat at the table. The former was reading his fishing corporation's financial papers, while the latter was sitting and staring out the kitchen window towards the shore on the horizon.
    "Don't forget about The Lady of the Tide Commune's Reaping celebration tonight, Andario." Podesta provided the statement without even so much as a "good morning." This was typical behaviour for his mother, but it still slightly irritated him each morning.
    "He won't forget, dear," Deacon said while only half paying attention, his eyes continuing to scan the document laid out before him.
    In hearing the interactions, Atlanta gave their parents a disgruntled look before turning to him and giving her usual sweet smile. "Good morning, Dario," She said cheerfully.
    Atlanta and Andario were close, typically bonding over their mutual disdain for their family, the Capitol, and the Commune — to which they endearingly called "The Cult of the Tide." Atlanta had always experienced the same rejection their parents had given him. That is, up until recently, when they selected Atlanta as the family career tribute. Their parents and the Commune hadn't even waited till after the funeral before selecting and announcing Atlanta as their second choice. Both Andario and Atlanta had grown to resent their parents even more for this decision, but Atlanta developed a deep seething hatred due to her selection as the next pawn and being forced to miss her dear brother's funeral for training. She always told Andario that she could never forgive them, calling them heartless and spineless shrimp on multiple occasions.
    Andario found it easier to not be jealous of her, though. In comparison to Albarus's constant praise, Atlanta was constantly criticized and contrasted against her older brother. She still didn't receive the approval or respect despite being the family's career tribute. Since their pride and joy had died at sea, neither of their other children could ever equate in their parents' eyes. Especially when Andario had been on the ship when Albarus died. After that day, he simply became a status symbol for them, not even bothering to talk to him some days. And when they did talk to him, it was usually in a drunken stupor with the sole purpose of belittling him.
    Finally content with her cooking, Podesta plated the last remaining morsels of cod and sat down to eat. She purposefully left none for him on this occasion, as today he was a complete disgrace, a nobody she chose to forget. He expected this, though, and grabbed an apple from the fridge before heading to the door. Every year he consistently counted on her disapproval reaching the absolute low during three specific days; the day of the Reaping, the day of the Commune's Reaping celebration, and Albarus's birthday.
    Stepping outside, Andario felt soothed by the damp and salty air. He marched down the cobbled path between the wind and sun-worn houses, making his way down to Tilda's Port. It was a beautiful cloudy early morning in District 4 with barely any breeze, meaning it was a good day for fishing. People were already out and about, busy trading, doing housework, or preparing fishing gear for the day. There were never really any idle hands in the District. Everyone had their role to play.
    As he walked, he passed by the bakery selling their delicious Merlin's Loaves, the bread native to District 4. Andario found the aroma comforting and nostalgic, much like the rest of his neighbours. It personally reminded him of Albarus, Atlanta and him sitting down as children and splitting one each holiday evening. Their young naive faces with wide dumb smiles watching the festivities from the sidelines. Looking back, his ignorance scared him, but it was such a blissful ignorance. If only it could have lasted.
    He found himself winding down a stairway just before the port when he heard aggressive shouts coming from one of the centre squares. He took a glance at the direction of the sound while continuing down, where he saw his oldest acquaintance and annoyance, Gabria Cicuta, performing her career tribute training as she usually was. She fought against Osman Foley, the 22nd Hunger Games victor and her personal trainer. Despite his considerable size advantage, it seemed Gabria was providing good competition, being easily able to sidestep, block, and counter most of his attacks with her trident.
    He rolled his eyes and continued on. Gabria had always been striving to become a Capitol pawn, and even supported the Commune's ideals. Despite her being an only child in the Cicuta elite family, she volunteered at the age of seven to become a career tribute. Andario thought she did it for the praise and attention, and he somewhat resented her for being so easily influenced. Especially after she gave him a cocky wink after volunteering, knowing it would irritate him. He tried his best to push her out of his mind as he finally made it to Tilda's Port.
    The port was an old one, made back before even the Capitol was created. It was abandoned long ago, but District 4 incorporated it into their industry as the Capitol's demand progressively increased. It became especially integral after the bombing of three of the ports used by rebels in the rebellion years ago. Although District 4 was left with twelve ports still, Tilda's Port became the hub for refugees of the destroyed ones, being located the closest. Now, it was bustling with ships of all kinds, from Capitol freighters to measly little fishing boats that could easily be considered rafts. People, both poor and rich, meandered around forming business deals, trading goods, and having hearty discussions. Even Capitol Peacekeepers relaxed a bit more when in the port.
    Andario strutted along the reinforced and renovated dock, heading towards an older ship that reminded him of a pirate ship from folk stories spread around District 4. It was very plain as a ship; the mast held no design or colour, the wood comprising the ship withered from years out at sea, freshly coated with polish and finisher. He had struggled for two years to return to the ship and crew after Albarus's death. It took exposure therapy and the ship's renovation to get Andario out of the bar serving drinks and back on the waters.
"Hey there, Darry my boy!" A gruff voice called from near the ship. The man was sat on a barrel just next to the boarding plank, waving his rough large hands in the air to get Andario's attention.
"Hi Seb," Andario said once he got closer.
Sebastos "Spoon" Cabezon was Andario's instructor and boss while on the ship. He was a taller man, with the body of a sailor that frequented the pubs a bit too often. His olive skin was speckled with scars from all the injuries he had obtained while out at sea, or supposedly from the many women he'd been known to woo. Seb had taken on more of a father figure role in Andario's life, since his own father blindly followed the Commune, his mother, and the Capitol. He provided the comforts of family that Andario had never felt growing up. When he saw the forty-year-old's soft dark brown eyes, Andario knew he always used them in a caring manner, as one would with their own child. He felt safe with such a kind man watching over him.
"You ready to head out?" Seb asked, patting him on the shoulder. Despite his size, he regulated his strength surprisingly well, and took care to use soft movements around people.
"As ready as I'll ever be," Andario stated with a slight chuckle.
"Wonderful! It's a beautiful day, so you know the bounty will be heavy!" He guffawed as he guided Andario onboard.
Andario was a designated deckhand onboard the Tilda's Glory, which meant he had the honour of loading the ship, preparing for castoff and docking, cleaning the ship, and generally assisting the other crew members. By the time they arrived at their first fishing location, Andario had already loaded their gear and swept the main deck.
After helping the other deckhand, Keel, with the net they were to use for fishing, Seb called Andario over and halted his duties. They very frequently practiced his spear fishing, although fairly unnecessary at the depths they were fishing in. Seb used it as time to catch up, but Andario knew he wouldn't share the other reason, which was that Seb wanted to train him with a spear for the chance of him being selected as a tribute. He would scatter in some survival facts here and there, as well, which Andario evidently noticed but played along, as he appreciated that Seb cared to even think about his survivability in the Hunger Games. Although a grim show of affection, it was affection nonetheless.
"So," Seb began while casting his fishing rod, "how're things at home?"
"Same as ever, but I don't exist today cause of the Commune's Reaping celebration." Andario gave a chuckle, both out of frustration and to ease the severity of the statement.
"Your parents need to learn a thing or two about family relations," Seb chuckled back, but evidently continued to listen.
"Yeah, but I don't think that'll ever happen." Andario shrugged. "At least Atlanta is still the sweet little sister she's always been."
Seb chuckled again. "That darling, nobody will ever be able to change her."
"I'd hope not," Andario responded. He watched as Seb began reeling in, slowly but surely.
"How about that Gabria girl?" Seb asked.
Andario huffed and twirled his spear around his body. "She's training like always. Every opportunity she gets, she's throwing it in my face."
"She's trying to get your attention, Darry my boy!" Seb laughed at his joke while Andario's face burned as he registered the statement. Gabria? Want his attention?! No way!
"If she wanted that she should be a little nicer," He muttered while shying his face away to avoid people from seeing him blush.
Seb took a second to settle his laughter, then cleared his throat before saying, "Not everyone can afford being as up front as you are."
The statement confused Andario. Before he could question Seb on his word choice, the older sailor felt something bite on the end of the line and gave a quick tug while reeling in. "Get ready, boy!"
Andario huffed as he prepared himself on the plank. He hated practicing like this, especially after the multiple times he fell and got a mouthful of salty water. The only benefit was the Tilda's Glory being low enough to the water that he didn't have to reach extremely far to spear the fish, although he usually had to crouch down. It was nice to feel the sea spray hit him every once and awhile, which was pretty much the only consolation alongside Seb's caring intent.
"Now, do you know what to do if we were stranded out here and needed water?" Seb asked through grunts while reeling in.
Here's the survival tactics, as bluntly as ever, Andario thought. "Boil the salt water?"
"Close, but you'd have to catch the steam, or else you're left with just salt." He then gave a heave of the fishing rod and called, "eyes on the water!"
Andario saw the end of the line now, with a dark shape forming and approaching closer to the surface. He waited, spear at the ready, as the shape closed in, his eyes trained on its motion and movement. Finally, he lunged out with a jab at the shape. He felt the force of tearing through flesh and knew he got it. He then pulled it up out of the water, spraying the cold and salty sea water everywhere as he observed the catch, an albacore.
Suddenly, he was back to that evening. The one he saw so often and dreaded, with the dark and dense storm clouds above, the raging ocean waved below, and no escape. He heard the cries of help from far more fishermen than he thought they had crew at the time. He saw the moment his brother was knocked over the railing, the same sad smile he was gifted. And he saw the jaws close in around his brother's arm, barely visible from under the railing, as he had hallucinated frequently during the nights since. And then, the words.
I love you, Dario.
"You okay, Darry?" Seb called from where he had been fishing just moments before. Andario was stood up, staring the decently sized albacore catch dead in the eyes. He blinked to knock himself out of the trance and focused back on reality.
"I'm fine," Andario called, walking back to the main deck with his stabbed catch in hand.
"Put it in with the rest of them," Seb said. "I'll get our next catch."
This happened frequently after the appearance of a dream, but Andario had never experienced such a sudden onset of the flashback. He was told it was related to his "PTSD" — whatever that was. People kept telling him it made sense or it was normal at the start, that he should be grieving and suffering. But he was fine then. Now they told him he should hopefully be past it by now, moved on with his life. But he had moved on. He believed it was cause he suffered a head injury that evening, which would explain why he's always forced back into it even when he doesn't want to be. Every time he brought it up to a doctor, though, they would tell him that everything was fine.
He threw the albacore in with the fish the rest of the crew had caught — which seemed to be many — and turned back to join Seb. It was only then that he noticed Captain Naso Leucostern, a beautiful woman in her forties, leaning against the side of the stairway leading up to the helm. Her arms and legs were crossed, her dark eyes silently observing him. Her vibrant red captain's suit made her darker skin pop, with her plumed red captain's hat sitting comfortably on top of her curly hair. Andario had never met someone with skin as dark as hers until she and Seb recruited him to join their fleet. It wasn't common in District 4 for many people to have skin darker than olive for some reason. He knew her darker skin came from her Capitol-born father, who was rumoured to have fallen in love with her mother on his first tour as Peacekeeper and has since decided he would stay assigned here till the day he died.
"You seem lost, Andario," Captain Leucostern called.
"All good, ma'am," He called back. "Just thinking about things."
"I see." She corrected her posture and, with one last glance, began heading for the door. Before she slipped back into her quarters, she called over her shoulder. "If you need help sorting through those thoughts, you know where to find me." And with that, she was gone.
Andario paused for a moment, but quickly returned to Seb. The rest of the day passed without much conversation, just Seb rambling while he fished. Andario sat in silence, more or less, providing the usual "yep" or "okay" to acknowledge Seb. He worried about the Commune's Reaping ceremony later tonight and if his brain injury would act up then, too. It happened most often when he was stressed, presumably due to the strain it would have on his mind. He needed to remain completely calm and allow nothing to disturb his tranquility.
When the Tilda's Glory docked, he helped unload everything. He caught a glimpse of Seb trying to work his charm on Captain Leucostern, as usual. The latter never gave in, but seemingly found it amusing to tease the man, using her immense charm to dance around him while organizing the unloading and already attracting potential buyers with business deals. Andario was always impressed by her resilience and her ability to be so functional overall, wishing he had been born with those traits.
By the time everything had been unloaded from the ship, Captain Leucostern had already claimed some business, and was able to pay Keel and Andario before they took off for the day. As usual, he would save the majority of his pay as Albarus had instructed him to do years before. He contentedly marched off back up the path he'd taken to Tilda's Port.
As he passed the square again, he noticed Gabria still training — this time with a bow and arrows — while Osman Foley sat and critiqued her stance each time she shot. He thought it funny that she'd train with such a stupid tool. They didn't provide much use in fishing, being outclassed by virtually everything. Of course she would want to master everything she could. What a show off.
When he got home, Andario only spotted his mother on the rocking chair near the window, crocheting a quilt from the yarn she bought at last year's Reaping celebration. The Lady of the Tide Commune very frequently hosted whatever businesses were interested in their "black market night," as Captain Leucostern called it. She was a frequent attendee, but less for the cult aspects and more for gaining valuable business connections and hiring people like him.
Andario assumed his father was probably just leaving after ushering his final orders in his fishing plant, while his sister was just ending career tribute training for today. He took the empty house as an opportunity to shower while the bathroom was still free and open for takers. The warm water was refreshing, but he didn't have it for long before he heard the front door close, indicating his time was up. After he dried himself, he went to his room to change into his outfit for the night.
Every year, while the rest of the family was away, his mother would prepare their outfits, usually coordinating them in some way. This year, she had laid out his burgundy pants and white shirt covered by a burgundy blazer, strew over his bed. They had never really been able to afford the high class Capitol clothing — aside from for Albarus's funeral — so they always had to make due with what they had, claiming that the "comfort classics" were the way to go now, and they were onto a trend that even the Capitol would pick up. Andario knew most didn't believe them, but he was shocked to find every year that there was some poor naive soul who did.
He quickly put on the outfit, checking in his mirror to make sure there were no abnormalities in the clothes since he last wore them. The last thing he needed was his mother's blame for the Commune seeing them as unkempt. After a thorough check, he felt confident there was nothing to worry about. He quickly fixed his hair and exited his bedroom.
Atlanta seemed to be in the process of changing into whatever outfit was prepared for her this year, while his father had hopped in the shower. Andario questioned if he should grab something to eat while he waited, but he didn't want to risk being too full to eat what was served at the celebration. The chef, Pollock Typhanes, takes any disinterest in his food as disgrace. As an influential member of the Commune, as well, he takes his received disgrace very seriously, bringing it to the knowledge of the other five elite families and the reigning body while heavily advocating for the guilty party's banishment. Although never typically taken to that extreme, Andario wanted to avoid being presented poorly in front of the cult leaders. He turned towards the door, opting for fresh air and sightseeing while he waited.
As the evening grew darker, less people were actively about. The majority — the sane people who weren't members of the Commune — were getting rest for the mentally, emotionally, and potentially physically taxing day ahead of them. The streetlights were just starting to turn on, illuminating the neighbourhood and their own tall frames, oxidized from the decades exposed to the elements. Some people were now taking down the laundry they hung by the wire that was only otherwise used to hang festival banners. The majority of windows down the long road of houses were brightly lit, revealing multiple households undergoing their evening routines. It was like any other day to them, the only difference being the grave tomorrow.
Andario heard giggles coming from around the corner. He watched as a paler, bronze-haired kid ran from an older, blonde-haired kid. The younger one's sea green eyes flicked over to Andario, and his face lit up as he came to a sudden halt, allowing for the older kid to stumble trying not to trip up.
Andario was familiar with these two, being neighbours with them for over three years. They were the kids of the Odairs, to whom his parents were not too fond of for their distaste of the Capitol and their rise from the poorer section of District 4. Finnick, the six-year-old boy, had the chubby boyish features of a well cared for child. Cordelia, the eleven-year-old girl, visibly looked like a well-off girl, but she had an air of maturity to her, most likely surrounding the responsibilities she had to uphold back when they lived in the poorer area. Andario lightly knew of their circumstances, having gone some days without food, and the fact that Cordelia was forced into the labour industry at a very early age to pool into the family income. Her parents had told him that some days, when they went without food, she would save the small amount of snacks she got ahold of to provide to her brother.
"Hi Andi!" Finnick called cheerfully through his cheeky smile, aggressively waving his chubby hand. He could never get Andario's name right, but to this day Andario never felt the need to correct the young boy.
"Hey bud, having fun?" Andario asked, sharing the smile.
"Yeah," Finnick said. "We went to see dad with our boat, and he said that all the other boats looked bad compared to ours!"
"He didn't say that," Cordelia corrected very quickly, looking somewhat ashamed of her brother's words.
In his experience, Andario thought that Finnick embodied the true six-year-old attitude. He repeated everything he heard, he didn't understand the concept of a secret or lies or even when something is best left unsaid. He didn't appreciate the value statements provided, of information as it was, which is to be expected of six-year-old children. His sister, yet again through the years of poverty, was the contrary. She knew when to withhold information, what to present and what to hide away. She understood the power of words and what they meant. That's why Andario found the pair so amusing: the younger one spouted nonsense and the older desperately tried to clean up in his wake.
"I bet your old man is right you know," Andario said with a wink. Finnick got very excited and turned up to look at his sister's expression, who seemingly sat in bewildered contentment. "Well, that is, next to the Tilda's Glory! Can't forget that!"
Both of the kids giggled, with Finnick providing disagreement between breaths. "But our ship has big cannon guns! Dad calls them 'hapoons,' and I bet you don't have those, do you?"
"You got me there, Finn!" Andario chuckled. "Where you guys headed?"
"Back home," Cordelia responded before Finnick could answer. "Mom cooked up some salmon, and dad's on his way behind us."
"Tell her to save some for me," Andario joked, "I love salmon!"
"We will," Finnick stated bluntly before running off. Andario realized then another joke had flown just past his head.
He didn't have to wait much long after the Odairs ran off before his family showed up at the door. Podesta wore a plain burgundy dress with a headband holding up her long blonde hair. Atlanta wore a striped burgundy button-up jumper skirt with a long-sleeve white undershirt framing her long hazel locks. Deacon, on the other hand, looked fairly unoriginal wearing the same outfit as Andario, the only difference being his slightly greying hair and beard. Andario sighed. His mother had a theme this year, clearly. He just wondered what she hoped to attain with these clothes.
They walked up the road as a group towards an old house beyond the Capitol days, similar to Tilda's Port. The building had been heavily renovated, yet still kept the rustic charm of the pre-Capitol days. The building was large, clearly either the residence of a rich family of the past, a government building, or a place to hold events. The Commune had kept the crystal chandeliers hanging from the high-vaulted ceilings, the quartz pillars, and the giant windows at the front. They also had polished the hardwood floors, replaced the decaying wooden railing with wrought iron, and designed a mosaic window near the very back of the building in honour of The Lady of the Tide, to which they replicated in a painting on the same wall in the basement. They called it the Lily, and now it was used mainly for Commune gatherings, although sometimes they volunteered it as event locations for District 4.
When Andario and his family got to the door, there was a security guard standing watch. He did not ask for the code, as he instantly recognized Andario's parents as seat members from the elite families. He opened the large solid oak doors and gestured his hand towards the blazingly bright interior, to which they all obliged.
The inside was as stunning as ever; red carpet strewn everywhere, tables upon tables of food, and golden bars holding The Lady of the Tide banners. On top of the plantation teal District 4 colouring, the banners demonstrated the symbol of the Commune — a mystical woman with waving hair and a flowing dress. She was designed and shaped to resemble an anchor, with the folds of her clothes forming the bottom of an anchor, while her outstretched hands and her head made up the top of the anchor. The Commune attempted to make everything resemble Capitol production, from their symbol to the events they hosted. Everything always looked pristine and perfect.
"Ah, marvellous!" A smooth deep voice called from within the crowd. Andario knew that voice immediately. He heard it over and over again anytime they attended events even related to the Commune. It was the Commune's reigning body, Albert Anguilla, who also happened to be the victor of the 17th Hunger Games. "The Bocaccios! So glad you could make it!"
Anguilla was a man in his fifties, but he didn't seem it. He was known for his looks; ruggedly handsome and remaining ageless. Chiseled featured, muscular frame, glowing beige skin, dark beard and long hair framing his icy blue eyes. He constantly wore high-end, tailor-made suits from his friends in the Capitol, allowing him to instantly catch everyone's eyes in District 4. He was the ideal man for many. So put together. So perfect.
"As happy to be here as always, Tidespeaker!" Podesta shared as he neared, putting on a large smile and straightening her posture.
Tidespeaker was what they called the reigning body of the Commune. Anguilla had earned the title after being one of the first career tributes of District 4, and the very first to survive. His selection as a career tribute, along with his victory, lent many in the Commune to believe he was chosen by Merlotta, The Lady of the Tide herself. He graciously accepted the title and even funded the Commune using his earnings, which had made everyone accept him as the one and only rightful Tidespeaker. He had remained seated and uncontested for forty years at that point.
"I hope the Tide has treated you well?" Anguilla asked with a charming smile, bending down and kissing Podesta's hand. "Our very own fifth elite family deserves the utmost care!"
"We have been doing well! In fact, numbers are on the up and up! Aren't they, dear?" Podesta looked back at Deacon for confirmation. He seemed to look slightly uncomfortable speaking about their financial numbers in front of Anguilla, but spoke up after clearing his throat.
"We certainly have a large sum coming in this month."
"Excellent!" Anguilla called, throwing his hands up in the air to celebrate. "That's reason enough to party, is it not?"
"Most definitely!" Podesta replied, seemingly in a dreamy haze.
"And how are the two young ones here?" Anguilla centred his attention on Andario and Atlanta, looking from one to the other, but evidently paying more attention to Atlanta's reply. "Is everything well with you guys?"
"Yes," they both answered in tandem, as though practiced multiple times. Both Andario and Atlanta used to give more detailed responses, but as their disdain grew for the Commune, so did their disdain for Anguilla, and they limited their words around him as much as possible.
"Good, good..." Anguilla paused for a moment, probably expecting more to the response, or even potentially composing himself. He then briskly cleared his throat and guided their parents to the tables of food, asking, "Are you interested in any food? Pollock put extra effort in this year!"
With their parents gone, Andario and Atlanta stood at the entranceway for a moment, taking in the party and the scenery. They only barely began chatting about their mutual dread over the party before Atlanta's friends walked by and dragged her into the crowd, leaving Andario to stand solemnly near the door. The noise of the endless conversations made him feel as though thunder was clapping directly in his ear. He watched as people mingled with one another, the crowd becoming a blur of faces and colourful clothes. Before he dreaded it further, he took a deep breath and stepped into the surge of people.
He attempted to weave his way downstairs where he hoped there would be less people. As he walked down the steps, though, he knew he'd made a mistake, as it was a sea of heads. The bar had been moved down here since last year, which he assumed would account for the increase in people. He was stuck in the downwards flow of traffic, though, and could not turn back upstairs. He wandered the floors meaninglessly, following the direction the majority headed in, until he heard one familiar voice.
"Hey there, Andario," Captain Leucostern said from behind him, tapping his shoulder as she drew closer to his ear. "You aren't old enough to be down here. You know that, right?"
"I thought the bar was still going to be upstairs," he called back over the cacophony. Each time they met outside of work, he appreciated how she wasn't constantly the stern woman only focused on labour and management.
"I'll believe that this one time," she said with a smirk. "Come on, the buffoon is making a fool of himself again."
Captain Leucostern guided him over to one of the many hollowed out arches in the walls. There he saw Seb in a drunken state speaking with an overly frustrated woman. She had caught Seb flirting with another woman, Andario assumed. This sequence of events was a regular occurrence for his dear industry mentor.
"Darling, you're drunk," Seb called in a drunken stupor. "Go get some rest and you'll realize it never happened."
"I saw it, Sebastos!" The woman called, her blonde ringlets bouncing with every stomp of her foot. "You two timing cheater! I saw how you looked at your boss!"
Captain Leucostern scratched at her temple and looked to the ground, giving a face as though she was pretending the statement was never said.
"There was no look!" Seb screamed hysterically.
"Don't talk to me again, you scoundrel!" With that, the woman marched off into the crowd.
"Yeesh, glad I wasn't involved in that!" Captain Leucostern called over to the sulking drunk man that now stood before them both. "But look who showed his face!"
Seb looked up at Andario, and took a moment to register who exactly he had laid his eyes upon. When he finally realized, his eyes lit up and a large dopey smile grew across his face. "Darry my boy!" He called. Andario gave a quick wave before Seb's bodyweight was hanging off his shoulders, muttering drunken nonsense as usual.
"I'm so glad your here, my boy! It was getting boring without you!"
"I think I'm the life of the party here," Captain Leucostern retorted. "I've already made three business connections. People love me here!"
"They love me, too..." Seb muttered.
"Ah, yes, that lady really does love you, huh?" The Captain gave a laugh. Not a business one, like Andario was used to. An actual, genuine laugh.
"Well, if you'd just take me out then we wouldn't be here!" Seb snapped back. He was getting irritated, but only due to the alcohol in his system. The statement took Captain Leucostern aback, though, as she began blushing before very quickly recovering.
"Maybe if you helped me close some deals tonight I'd consider it."
"Maybe if you just said yes to a date I would!"
"You're a 'big strong man' though," the Captain stated teasingly. "Doing more work might help me see you're interested."
Andario rolled his eyes. They have always been like this, dancing around one another. One takes a step forward, the other one back. A constant waltz. Everyone else had recognized they both loved each other, but everyone had also recognized that it was a matter of who's iron-clad willpower would break first. Andario decided to lean Seb up against the wall in front of the Captain and quickly vanished back into the crowd, heading back upstairs. He had enough conversations with drunk, love-hungry adults for one day.
Once he got upstairs, he stumbled towards the buffet tables. He made sure to take a small helping of every food there, just to remain on Pollock's good side. As he finished by garnishing his plate with a single oyster, Pollock looked on approvingly. His approving look only lasted for a second, though, as he was instantly off scalding a guest for only taking a cookie from the tables. Andario took this moment to find a quiet area near the back of the Lily to sit and eat his portions of food.
Pollock's cooking was delicious as always. Andario had always appreciated the cook's food, as it held exquisite taste in every bite. Pollock's ability to blend flavours and spices together was unrivalled in all of District 4, Andario thought. He savoured each mouthful as though it was his last. Before he could finish eating, though, a man approached him from the crowd.
"Eating on the floor, are we?" Osman Foley called down to him. The man was in his fifties, similar to Anguilla. But unlike Anguilla, Osman was not sought after for his looks. The man was balding, with a permanent scowl and a constantly gruff face. He still held a muscular build due to training career tributes, but it somehow made him seem feeble with his poor posture, his hands constantly supporting his spine. On top of that, he always wore robes like some kind of knockoff monk, which did not add to his appeal.
    "Had to savour Pollock's food somewhere," Andario added with a shrug.
    Osman's scowl deepened as he looked Andario up and down. "Gabria talks about you very often. I see what she was getting at now." Andario paused, confused. What was Gabria saying about him? Before he could ask, the bald man turned and slowly walked back into the crowd, calling, "A pity you're the best the elite Bocaccios can offer. Enjoy the celebration."
    Andario stared as he watched Osman merge into the crowd, the rest of the people engulfing him in a wave. He ate his last bite as he tried to ponder what was being said about him. After sitting and staring at his empty plate for a while, he got up to return it over to the waste table where Pollock's workers would be by to pick up the dirty dishes.
    "Dario!" A voice called from behind him, tapping him on the shoulder. He turned around as he was laying down his plate to see Gabria standing there with a conniving look. Honestly, could he not go a moment without being pestered by these perfectionists?
    "Hi, Gabria," he uttered resistantly.
    "Oh, come on, no comment on how I look?" She asked, twirling around in her her silky sea-green dress. Her wavy black hair was done up in a bun at the nape of her neck, providing her with a regal look. She wore pearl earrings and a pearl necklace to match, contrasted by her tanned skin from the countless days of career tribute training. She had also gained a fair amount of muscle from her training since the last Reaping Celebration. She looked royally elegant, yet fiercely strong, but Andario refused to admit any of this after her teasing.
    "You look fine," he mumbled, looking away awkwardly.
    "Fine? That's all?" Gabria said after a pause, then began to laugh. "You're incompetent as ever, Dario."
    He began staring out into the crowd, paying close attention to each face in order to seem disinterested. She did not speak for a little while before giving an audible huff and continuing on.
    "Well, I came over to tell you that you look 'fine' as well, although a bit commonplace if you ask me."
    Andario's face turned red. Did she just give him a backhanded compliment? She called him ordinary, most definitely commenting on his not-so high-end clothes. Constantly looking to prove her superiority, as always.
    "I also have some more news," she shared, pausing to wait for his reaction.
    "...And?" He responded, slightly irritated, slightly disinterested.
    "Well, I know it's very early," she said. He caught her tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. Was she unusually awkward? Or was that just his mind? She continued speaking as he pondered, saying, "I know that many people will disapprove, but I wanted to share the good news with you."
    Oh no. Is she thinking of getting married? This early? That's way too soon! Should he be discouraging her, as her friend? If he felt that she would regret it in the future, he thought the least he owed her was his disagreement. He began to interject, trying to organize his thoughts while stumbling through a random combination of sounds, when she seemingly couldn't hold in the news any longer and blurted it out in a string of dreadful words.
    "I'm volunteering as the career tribute this year!"