Reprisal

CHAPTER ELEVEN

     FOUR MONTHS EARLIER

It's like witnessing a car accident, a train derailing...he can't pull his pale blue eyes from the scene before him.

From her.

He's not even entirely sure she sees him as she paces back and forth, spewing out to her aunt in a rant, orange substance smattered on her surgical gown, her dark brown curls pinned at the back of her head.

He has to rest his mouth against his fingers as he leans against the arm of his chair, holding back a smirk at the look in Dr. Volumnia Gaul's heterochromatic eyes that falter from her niece to flicker to Coriolanus.

It's now that he sees that she's not even listening, just allowing the irritated woman before her to ramble about yet another failed subject until she's stopping momentarily to catch her breath, finally taking a moment to trace her aunt's eyes to their silent exchange.

"Dr. Crane, I trust you remember Coriolanus Snow, one our most preeminent Gamemakers — aside from myself — of course."

If the introduction bothers or astounds Tawny Crane, her brown eyes don't show it, her annoyingly pretty face blank as she looks at him.

She had met him in passing plenty of times before, she knew who he was — everyone knew who Coriolanus Snow was.

"You taught his wife, Dr. Livia Cardew, during her internship here at the Citadel." Dr. Gaul adds as if trying to jog her memory.

"Did I?" Tawny asks in a tone that's intended to vex, he assumes as much, as she patiently waits for him to take the bait of either tolerating her implication that Livia offered nothing worth remembering as a student, or defending Mrs. Snow's remarkable genius.

"You did." He speaks to her lightly, as if politely reminding her, but surely she will understand the weight of his words.

He didn't marry an unremarkable woman. Nagging at times and a bully to those around her, of course.

But unremarkable? No.

Tawny's full lips pull into a tight, closed-mouth smile at his two words.

"Mr. Snow and myself were just discussing you, Dr. Crane, when you waltzed in here."

Waltzed ?

He has to hide a scoff, the idea of her delicately gliding in peacefully in an ethereal way, graceful and composed is a comical comparison to her storming through the doors, shouting, stomping, arms flailing and teeth gritted together.

"Discussing me?" She sounds almost offended by the confession, her eyes now seeing the stack of folders on her aunt's desk.

She's not privy to Coriolanus Snow and Dr. Gaul talking about her, knowing they more than likely held looks of disgust and laughed at her lack of success as they flipped through the files.

"Your wife just lost her third one in a row, too, Mr. Snow did she not?" She says it with a dig in her voice, boroughing the insult into him. "Are you discussing her as well or is that unnecessary because she's sharing a bed with a preeminent Gamemaker?" She snaps her attention back to him, looking at him down her nose where she stands.

Standing to his feet to unpin himself from the weight of her unwavering gaze, he walks to Dr. Gaul's desk — causing Tawny to back up a few steps out of his way — as he plucks several manila folders off the smooth surface of the deep mahogany.

He doesn't miss the quick flicker of her eyes as she looks him up and dance briefly, unable to stop herself from doing so.

Someone so handsome shouldn't be such a jackass.