Vain. Vicious. Venomous. (CATO HADLEY)

TWO

"What's your name again?" Maven asked, as she spared a glance to the stoic boy next to her. Her fingers drummed against the white tablecloth.

The District Eight escort, who she learned was named Crinoline, had gone off to find their mentor, after directing them to the train's dining car.

From the couches, to the rugs, to tapestries, the room was rich in fabrics. Maven wondered if this was designed in homage to Eight. Her district was responsible for producing textiles, so it was likely that everything had originated there.

Her partner continued to sit in silence.

Maven's lip quirked into a scowl. This had not been her first attempt to sway the boy into conversation. Not that she wanted to get friendly with him, exactly. After all, his reaction after being Reaped made him look weak. It made her week by extension. He was already a liability and they had not even made it to the Capitol yet. The boy was sure to die in the upcoming weeks.

But Maven tried to engage with him, because she simply hated silence. Always had.

A woman walked with a warm smile, "Morning, kiddos."

Her name was Leeme and she was the only living District Eight victor.

'Good morning, you have been selected for the pleasure of battling to the death on live television.' Maven smiled in amusement, as she took a sip from her cup. "That's an odd thing to say," she remarked.

"Well I didn't say it was a good one. Did I?" Leeme poured herself a cup of tea.

Fair enough.

Drinking tea was common in Eight. It was easy to wander out into the meadows and find the right leaves. However, the painted teacup that Leeme handled with such practice was not.

Maven wanted the mentor to take her seriously. This woman would be responsible for getting her sponsors. You could be a charismatic killing machine, but without sponsors, you were already dead. "I'm Maven." She stated with authority. She met Leeme's eyes.

Leeme's smile dropped, "I know your name, Maven," the woman looked at the other tribute, "and Draze. It means nothing, but I am sorry that this has happened to the two of you."

She let out a laugh, "Well, it cannot possibly be as bad as last year."

Maven would not say that she had an aversion to violence or witnessing violence. But last year. Last year was something else entirely.

She dabbed her lip with a napkin, "I for one am counting my blessings."

Draze bit at his lower lip. He cannot possibly cry again. He already had after Crinoline told them to "eat and enjoy".

Leeme rescued the boy, "let's please not talk about last year."

Maven recognized that Leeme was probably right. The 74th Hunger Games was taboo to talk about, even in Eight. It would be bad of her to slip and risk a Capitolian overhearing her.

No one was to discuss the 24 dead children or the Gamemaker, whose severed head was sent on the Victory Tour.

Crinoline had been relatively quiet during this entire exchange. Maven found this odd. She had always thought the woman as bubbly on-stage, but at this moment, she looked like she was about to fall asleep.

"After you two eat a bit more, we can retire to the film car and watch the Reapings," Leeme smiled down at them. She cut a bite of steak and plopped it into her mouth.

"How did you win?" Draze blurted out. His eyes had gone wide.

"He speaks," Maven giggled with a smirk.