It had been a few months since he had accidentally called Enobaria, but Cambric found himself seeking out her company anyhow. Their tributes would be busy for a few hours yet and it wasn’t like he wanted the company of the sponsors. The District Two Victor did not need to be won over, swooned, or fawned over and it was a relief. Not to mention, there was a freedom in being around other Victors where you could be honest.
“Don’t worry, it doesn’t get easier.” Cambric told his fellow Victor as he fell into step beside her. The look on her face said she wasn’t happy and he wasn’t sure if it was being in the Capitol or her tributes or both. Mostly he assumed it was her tribute. “Does this mean I’ll see more of your smiling face around?”
The eerie noise of the telephone resounded on the walls, and Reed could only wonder if it would always be like this. The newest victor went from not possessing a telephone to receiving numerous calls in the span of months. It seemed unfathomable how much his life changed between the Quell’s Reaping and the President’s birthday celebrations. He obtained national acclaim, comrades from other districts, and sizable home in the Victors’ Village, but these yields cost him his twin sister and portions of his humanity.
“Hello?” Reed answered with a hopeful tone. “Hey, Cambric. How’s it going, man?” He replied instinctively, elated to hear a genuine voice on the other end of the receiver. “Yeah, I’m still kicking, screaming, and being a menace out here in Seven. I have been trying keep out of trouble though, which is harder than it looks.” The young man divulged with a faint smile. “How’s it out in District Eight these days?”
“Oh you know, it’s always sunny in District Eight.” He said with what seemed like a good-natured laugh, but the sarcasm was easy to detect. Things always were a bit uneasy in District Eight, but not quite as bad as during Seventy-four a few years ago. It was a shame if Cambric was being honest, but he was not foolish enough to say so on a Capitol phone line. He would not put it past them to be listening in on their conversation.
He laughed at Reed’s comment. “Good, good. Give them hell as you should for being a younging.” He could approve of such antics considering the trouble Cambric got into himself. Most of the Peacekeepers now just ignored him though so he had to wait till he got to the Capitol. “Half the Peacekeepers think I am deaf, which is a riot. I can do whatever I want under the guise of not hearing them.” It was childish but he needed to have some fun. “Not that there is much to do here. The factory work keeps most people. How are the trees growing in Seven?”
Some citizens of District Eight cowered at the mention of curfew, but Petra Jersey hardly paid attention to it. She and her family were rather indispensable in her pretty little head. Their sophisticated operation of the district’s most efficient factories simply made them priceless and better than the rest. Therefore, the young woman felt no qualms about lingering the streets in the twilight hours close to the district’s bedtime. In fact, she carried multiple medium-sized spools with an arrogance worthy of someone in the Capitol.
The enthusiastic pep in her step dissipated with the question from one of District Eight’s only victors. Petra eyed the other curiously and pondered why he would bother. An envious thought crossed her mind that Cambric Batiste should be lazing around his sumptuous home in the Victors’ Village right about now; however, an elegant young woman could hardly turn down the offer. “That would be helpful, thank you. Are you sure you’re not in a hurry? I’m trying to get these home, and it’s a bit of a hike from here.”
Cambric shrugged. “Nope, I am never in a hurry.” It wasn’t like there was much for Cambric to hurry to. There was no job and no family waiting for him, just his pups and they would no doubt be sleeping away the afternoon in their favorite spot. “Unless you are in a hurry and then it’s a good thing I offered my services.” He told Petra with a smile as he reached to help her with her load.
For a moment, he walked in silence happy to make himself some assistance. Not to mention it was getting dark and while District Eight was kind of safe, it probably wasn’t as safe as it should be. “So, what are you making with all this stuff?” Cambric inquired knowing small talk might make the walk a little less long.
Even though it was getting dark, Cambric didn’t care much. There was not much out in the dark in District Eight that could harm him that he hadn’t already encountered in the Hunger Games. Sure the Peacekeepers were strict about the curfew but Cambric skirted it often. He knew better than to be out real late but a few minutes here and there didn’t matter.
“Need some help with that kid?” He asked the girl with her arms full that was walking by him. Sure he wanted to be helpful, but some part of him was looking for a reason to not going home. No one was at home waiting, so he mine as well make himself useful to someone.
Cambric held the phone in his hand a moment as he looked at the dial. Ah, forget it, he told himself as he dialed the number. He had spoken to the new victor a few times and he found himself wondering how Reed was doing. Not only did he survive the games, but his sister also didn’t. Cambric’s heart went out to him.
“Hey kid,” Cambric said as soon as he heard Reed’s voice on the other end. “Still kicking?” He asked keeping the mood light, but he knew the year following was the hardest. Reed hadn’t even gotten to the hardest part yet, mentoring the new tributes.
District Eight Welcomes you to Coriolanus Snow’s Celebration
“You can kill the dreamer, but you cannot kill the dream.”
Each moment was a game, Cambric had learned that a long time ago when he had been seventeen. Each moment was paid for with sacrifices and paid for with a little bit of their of their soul. Shrugging, he brushed it off because there was no sense in lingering on what you could not change.
One such truth he could not change was that it was good ol’ Coriolanus Snow’s birthday. His birthday was soon too, but Cambric did not make a fuss about it like they did over the President’s thankfully. He used to joke all the best people were born in January, but that was far from the truth.
Either way, Cambric straightened his tie and put on his best smile. There would be no poking the Peacekeepers tonight. No pretending he was funnier than he was because no one would laugh.
“Snow is going to live forever,” Cambric pointed out causing his prep team to sing praises to his words and hope they sang the truth. Oh, how he missed joking with people that actually understood his meanings. It wasn’t like it was false. Snow looked as old now as he had when Cambric was a kid. Did the man never age? If anyone found a way to live forever, it would be Snow.
Shrugging, Cambric followed the parade out to the dinning room wondering what would become of this day. Thankfully, it would be over soon and he could be safe at home within a few hours. In a few hours he could go back to his usual day and his usual whispering with his fellow District Eight members.
As he took his seat, Cambric smiled and nodded an acknowledgement as required. Cambric played his part as well as expected; not because he wanted to, but because it was his job to protect the people of District Eight. Whatever he did came back on them and they did not deserve to pay for his moments of indulgent.
If Cambric was going to risk someone paying the price for his actions, he was going to make sure his actions were worth the payment. No, today wasn’t the day for action.
Tomorrow was another day. Until then, there was nothing left to do but safeguard the fire of hope and pray for a brighter tomorrow.
she picks up the phone and is surprised to hear the voice of district eight’s latest victor. “hello, cambric,” she says coolly. he’d won a few years before she had, and given as she’d killed both his tributes, she couldn’t imagine she was exactly popular in his eyes. she remembers what it was like to watch two’s tributes die the year after she did, and she didn’t even have to mentor them.
she smiles tightly at the compliment, and then realizes that cambric can’t see her over the phone anyway. “of course,” she says. “two is always happy to welcome the president to our district. what about you?”
Cambric chewed his lip a moment weighing the words that were about to leave his lips. Did he trust the Capitol not to eavesdrop in on their conversations, absolutely not. Fortunately for him most Victors could pick up on the codes and indirect language most of them had adapted. Admittedly, he was a curious cat and it would probably come back to bite him one day.
“Of course, District Eight adores their President. None of us would be here without his generosity.” He said glad no one could see him roll his eyes. The Capitol had given him a lot of things and most of them weren’t grand. Reality was the people of Eight would show up out of fear, not out of any great love or respect. “Though I was thinking of dusting off my old suit from my crowning, but I wouldn’t want to steal the show.” He joked with a laugh.
“Besides, the temperature is getting colder here...” He said thinking of more than just the temperature outside. “Me, I love winter. How about you?”
A televised lunch with the President? Cambric was not sure what was up with this suddenly required appearance of him as a Victor, but he was curious. District Eight was not known for their fondness of a one Coriolanus Snow, but surely it would be a grand affair. He would show up wearing his finest, they would eat food provided by the Capitol so it did not look like anyone was starving, and they would be merry. Ugh, it was sure to be a blast.
Instead, Cambric found himself dialing Enobaria’s number. Sure he loved the new Victors, but he wanted an opinion of one as experienced as he was in the games the Capitol played. Surely the District Two Victor would give him a straight opinion or at the very least, what to expect with this latest event.
“Eno!” Cambric said happily as she answered the phone. “How are you? I am sure you look as brilliant as always. Ready for this Presidential lunch thing?”
“I’ve been surprised plenty of times before, so I can believe it.” Lincoln retorted with a small chuckle. Working out and conditioning his body became almost ritualistic for Lincoln at seven-years-old. While he had been reluctant to train at first, the instructors at Four’s academy soon coerced him. Consequently, it seemed like a difficult habit to break, even after winning the Hunger Games. He supposed he hardly knew whom he would be without the training, especially now that it was a beneficial distraction from the Games.
He knew Cambric spoke wisely. Now that the Quarter Quell was in the home stretch, Lincoln should be working with Four’s other mentors on a strategy to bring Minnow home. The young man felt dedicated to his role, but there were also times he needed to build his mental health. “I’ll be heading back once I wrap up in here. I just wanted to clear my head for a while.” The truth seemed safe to share with Cambric. “The Quell’s got the sponsors all so wound up. I bet they’d even ignore whatever stench you’d have due to their excitement… Though, that’s not a bad idea, and I might even try it.”
“A noble task,” Cambric pointed out without pointing out the obvious that it rarely worked, trying to clear your head. His tributes had died days ago and he was still struggling for even a moments reprieve from their memories. “I, however,” Cambric reached over and picked up on of the axes from the station next to him. “Have given up noble tasks and resigned myself to the misery,” he joked as he tossed the ax at the target and hit it only a few inches from the target. A skill he had learned at the Capitol for the sake of learning.
He nodded. “Believe me it works with some of them,” he told Lincoln with a laugh. He was absolutely certain that some of these people had never done an honest day's work a day in their lives, so they were disgusted easily by such things as body odor and any body fluids really.
Cambric was quiet a moment as he flung another ax at the target. “I do hope your girl will be okay,” he added as he reflected on the latest happenings in the games. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the other tributes, he did, but he knew how hard it was to be a young Victor trying to make your way through. Hell, Cambric wasn’t young and he still hadn’t brought any kids home alive.
Finnick’s eyebrows rose somewhat for a brief moment as Cambric spoke. There was a blatant insinuation being made there was not lost on him, and he wasn’t overly surprised, he was intrigued. He’d heard the sort of off color jokes Cambric was somewhat known for making. Of course many of the victors were against the Games in principle especially after having lived through them. However, the sort of fleeting statements Cambric was able to pass off made Finnick think they may perhaps be longing for the same thing. The very thing that had been lost to them through the unfortunate events the previous year.
“I suppose that is an interesting point though I doubt many, if any, have taken pause to consider it,” said Finnick a carefully constructed air of teasing dissipating slowly to be replaced by thoughtfulness.
“True, a little danger isn’t a bad thing. Though, perhaps instead of poking the bear directly it would be wiser to take shelter before engaging the bear and prod it from behind cover. Or once one has amassed some sort of superior forced with which you might overwhelm or distract it? Then you’re not depending solely on those fabulous running legs hmmm.”
“Oh Fours has been fairly well. There was bit of an influx of gnats, not large like the bugs you referred to but troubling just the same. That was around this time last year, but it’s mostly cleared up. I think the winter chill must have settled them down. I heard Eight might have experienced a tad of the same? ”
“If only some paused to think about life’s mysteries as long as they thought about what color to dye their hair,” Cambric said with a chuckle as a gaggle of Capitol socialites walked past them. There was nothing to see there other than two Victors discussing the fashion choices of their very generous sponsors.
He had to nod at Finnick’s statement because that would be the ideal situation, wouldn’t it? For a brief moment when that girl from District Twelve had given them a glimmer of hope, he had sincerely prayed this would be it, but the moment fizzled out like so many before them. If Cambric was going to risk his life for something, he wanted it to be for something that would mean something. Some nights when it was cold and miserable in District Eight, he wondered what it would be like if Panem was a different place. If the Districts worked together instead of fought one another. If the outer Districts stopped hating One and Two because their kids didn’t die as much and if One and Two stopped looking down on the outer Districts for the poverty they couldn’t help...
“Wouldn’t it be lovely to have that they called...” He had to pause a moment to think of the word. “A marathon race, you know with the little,” he waved his hands around a moment, “Baton the runners used to pass off...” He shrugged figuring it wasn’t likely something he’d see in his lifetime the way things were going.
He nodded. “There’s a pest or two flying around Eight,” like Cambric himself but he didn’t need to point that out. “You know like that annoying spider that’s in your house you want to kill but it seems to evade you time and time again. After a while, you just kind of leave it because it’s not really harming anything and it catches the occasional bug... Nothing like the swarm of locus they get in Eleven, I hear.” Then again, as far as he knew District Eleven was quiet too. The sweet little girl that had died last year was only a fond memory and heartbreak now.
Cambric leaned back in his chair thinking about nothing in particular when his ears perked up at the sound of his name on the television. Normally he did not give it a second thought when Flickerman jabbered on endless about the Victors of Panem. Usually, his name was tied to some fashion blog or some attractive Victors list or whatever it was they were trying to spin.
Only this time, he was talking about taking a trip back down memory lane. Back to when Cambric was seventeen and a tribute from District Eight. It was a time Cambric tried to forget. Iolite’s beautiful face still haunted his dreams, his name forever on her dying lips, and the wisps of memories of the cave never left him. Cambric didn’t want to remember being a tribute because it was the one thing that was as bad as being a Mentor.
Yet, the music played and suddenly they were taken back to his top Eight family interview. His mom painted serene by the cameras and his little siblings ecstatic at the possibility Cambric might be coming home...
It was clinche, but Cambric was listening to Caesar ask his mother what she thought when he was reaped. Her voice came floating back to him and the million and one times she had lectured him on being a proper man, an example for his siblings...
“I...” there was a pause in Georgette’s voice. “There are no words to explain how I felt. He was, he is, my son.” What her voice did not portray was the truth of the matter, how it felt in the Districts. The near certainty that you would next see your child in a pine box. That their family had lost their breadwinner and strength. There would be no one to help her manage the children and prop her up. “I just wanted him to come back. I still want him to come back.”
Funny how just six months later Cambric heard her voice screaming at him to get out and never come back. Six months was all it took for his mother to blame her for the cause of his brother’s death, which wasn’t far from the truth.
So lost was Cambric in his memories he didn’t hear the next question but he could guess what it was listening to the excited words of his little brother.
“Cam is so fun! He tells all the funny jokes that make people laugh,” the little boy, Cambric’s brother, said with a trill of a laugh. “Even the Peacekeepers laugh at his jokes! He told me a joke before the reaping you know! How it was raining so hard we were all like wet dogs after a bath!” With that Cambric’s little brother gave a mock shake, not unlike a wet dog, as his brother had just weeks early to help alleviate his fears about his first reaping.
What would his brother be like now? Cambric could almost see him as a man, still waiting for his facial hair to come and have to shave. His brother twenty-five years old, chasing the girls, but still unable to shave. His boyish looks would draw in all the ladies in District Eight, but he would still have eyes only for his high school sweetheart. Twill Batiste would have been a teen heartthrob had it not been for Cambric’s foolish actions.
“If I were there I’d tell him...” This time it was his sister’s voice that floated through the memories of his brother. His practical sister who never risked anything and never had to risk anything. “It’s time to make his own way. Others only make you weak...”
Linsey would have thought that his alliance with District One was a sign of weakness. Most thought Cambric had been smart to pair with the pair favored to win. They were strong, well supplied, and Career allies usually paved a path towards the crown if you knew the right moment to get out of the Pact. Did anyone ever get out of the Career Pack in one piece? Cambric’s heart hadn’t survived the encounter.
Sweet Iolite... Her eyes were as blue as the summer sky.
“You should bet on Cambric because he’s the best big brother!” Came the voice of his brother again making Cambric smile. He was far from the best but it was nice to know that someone thought so. A good big brother would have kept him safe.
“When Cambric gets home, I want a hug! That’s what we have to do when he wins...”
Cambric swallowed hard as he shook his head hoping to shake his emotions out of his head also. He couldn’t watch the rest of this interview. He didn’t care what his family had to say about his time in the arena. Instead, he got up and flicked the television off as a tint of a tear worked its way into his eye.
No. No. he wasn’t going there.
Sighing, he turned and walked into the kitchen instead. His stomach was full from dinner but it hardly mattered as he reached for the ice cream in the freezer. Instead, he shoved the spoon into the frozen dessert hoping it would distract him from the echos of the past.
Finnick’s eyebrow arched slightly. If Cambric could’ve said anything to make him more interested in what had been on the tip of his tongue Finnick wasn’t sure what it would’ve been. However, the brunette was right after all about eyes and ears everywhere. Instead of truly acknowledging the concern, though he gave a shrug and absent little wave as if he had no care in the world for being overheard.
“Bugs-schmugs is what I say.” A beat. “Ah yes well how convenient there was a year like this to follow that regrettable business. I’m sure any of the remaining tributes will be a more than suitable victor to the Capitol’s standards though. A simple year in that regard at least.”
Mischief danced in Finnick’s eyes as he drew somewhat closer to Cambric then. He couldn’t help himself really.
“I’ve never been proper a day in my life Cambric. Haven’t you heard?”
A smirk curled his lips as Finnick threw a wink to the elder victor.
“Careful Odair, the bugs might get offended. They have feelings too you know,” Cambric pointed out not that he cared much. What did these Capitol lackeys care about their feelings? How it felt to be plucked from your District, forced to participate in the Hunger Games, and then be forced year after year to watch helpless kids die? Yeah, Cambric had a few words for them but he knew better than to voice them. “Personally, if I see an ugly bug I am going to squash it. They’re really not good for anything. The bugs in Eight get quite large if you know what I mean.”
He made a face. Simple was not what Cambric was waiting for. The girl from Twelve last year had something and then it was squashed by the Capitol. Who knew how long before someone came along that could incite those kinds of feelings; the feelings most of them kept tuck away in the dark too afraid to let it show in fear for their families safety. “For people that say they like the excitement they tend to gravitate towards safe, don’t you think? I am almost ashamed to call myself a Victor,” he teased lightly but there was a ring of truth in his words. Not that Cambric was a good Victor. He said things he shouldn’t under the cloak of jest and most people were just too ignorant to take it for what it was worth.
Cambric laughed. “Oh, I’ve heard plenty Odair. Not as much as you, but I still hear things.” His green eyes lingered on Finnick for a moment. “But what’s life without a little danger I say? Don’t listen to people when they tell you poking the bear isn’t a good thing. It’s only bad if you can’t run fast enough and I’ll have you know, I have a great set of running legs.”
“By the way... How are things in Four these days?”
The training center felt like a collection of abandoned rooms when the Games began. Equipment used by the tributes almost seemed to collect dust. The unearthly silence contrasted with the activity of the previous days. No longer did tributes learn, trainers teach, or Gamemakers leer from their prized box in the rafters. Instead, the training center was similar to a quiet mausoleum inhabited by no one.
The emptiness of the training center often called to Lincoln. It was a deserted space that allowed him to exercise and contemplate freely. Consequently, he often journeyed down to the empty gymnasium to avoid the Games and inquisitive paparazzi.
Lincoln had been halfway through a set with free weights when the elevator chimed behind him. His brow rose in curiosity, but the young man finished the set first. “I didn’t think anyone else came down here once the Games started.” He called out moments later, setting the weights down and turning to face the room’s newest occupant.
“You’d never know I worked out looking at me,” Cambric joked with a laugh. It had never started as something he loved to do, working out, but it had helped hone his mind and body over the years. Not to mention when you looked as good as he did, the Capitol expected you to keep it up. Unfortunately, District Eight did not have too many gyms outside the one he kept in his home. To be honest, Cambric preferred running if he was being honest.
Without skipping a beat, Cambric walked over and plucked a jump rope off the shelf passing it from hand to hand a moment. “Surprise to see you down here though,” he pointed out. Not that he minded seeing another face around but Lincoln still had a girl in the fight. “Figured the sponsors would have snatched you up. They’re rather vicious this year mind you...” Sponsors could be a little much even after fifteen years of dealing with them. “Think they’d move on if I suddenly lost all desire to take care of my hygiene?”
He hadn’t been in the viewing room long when he gravitated over toward Cambric. Though, the older victor didn’t seem to be in as good of a mood as the last time they’d spoken. Finnick didn’t say anything at first. His eyes fixed on the screens watching Minnow and the boy, Reed, from Seven. When Cambric spoke though, Finnick turned his head slightly toward him head inclined almost imperceptibly. His eyebrow arched.
“Well, I for one would be interested in what it was you were thinking.”
Mild, but blunt. They hardly knew each other well though. And if Cambric knew Finnick’s reputation, as he was apt to, it would hardly be difficult to imagine him shying from sharing his thoughts with the suave young victor.
A beat of silence followed his words. Then he continued in a cool conversational tone.
“Such a monumental year though. Hard to imagine it all seems to be progressing so swiftly. Almost like they want to hurry through and crown their victor a tad expediently this go round.”
“I promise you it’d be worth your time,” Cambric told Finnick with a raised eyebrow. He had been around long enough to know about Finnick’s dealings and Cambric had to admit, he thought the younger Victor was pretty intelligent. One day, at least he hoped, there would be a great return on knowing people’s secrets. Not that Cambric would know many himself. “But as you know even the walls around here have ears or should I say bugs?”
Cambric chewed his lip to keep himself from frowning at the mere thought of this year's games. “Yeah, well after last year...” He made a face. “Guess we’re all just a little excited to have a new Victor, yeah? A proper District One Victor if they have their way I am sure... What about you Finnick are you considered a proper Victor?”
His tributes had died in the bloodbath and despite his better judgment, Cambric had been following the happenings. The tributes were dropping quickly. These games weren’t going to last long. As a matter of fact, they were poised to be the shortest he could remember in a long time, which was just as good considering it had been pretty damn brutal.
“Do you...” Cambric paused as he turned to look at the person standing next to him. “You know, never mind. What does it matter what I think?” He was just someone from the Districts, a Victor, but it didn’t matter in the end. “Are you ready to go home?” Cambric was. He wanted to hide in his workshop and allow his heart a chance to heal and grieve and prepare for yet another year and another games.
“oh.” Annie took the news the way she took most of it. Just coasted over it, let it wash over her like a wave. She didn’t want to dwell on the time, much. It barely mattered in the long run. She wasn’t going anywhere regardless.
she didn’t know Cambric much of at all. She knew of him, varguely, in the way she knew every victor. They had talked, once or twice, and seen each other in passing. He was from 8. Right? Honestly, she couldn’t recall his name for the life of her. But she knew that this brown haired victor was speaking softly, even if he wasn’t using the melodious tone she loved from Finnick, Artista, and the other victors who knew what she needed. And he had… oh. He had yarn. Beautiful yarn, textures and colors she’s seen before but never precisely like this. She knew this was very VERY high quality with just a look. And she really wanted to touch. “Gift?” She had it in her hands, soon enough, and she set aside the yarn she’d been working on to feel this stuff. It was so pretty, and she found it special in a way the other yarn wasn’t. It was something someone found and thought of her.
“thank. Thank.” She didn’t have any more to say, she just wanted him to know she was so greatful for it. Sentences were complicated, but the tone in her voice was what she hoped conveyed it. “Annie.” The introduces herself, holding a hand to her chest.
she looked between the yarn and the man she barely knew. Why did he bring it? They weren’t close. she knew most victors forgot she existed the majority of the time. So why bring it? “…why?”
“You are welcome,” Cambric told her with a soft gentle smile. “It’s nice to meet you Annie, I am Cambric.” He told her guessing formalities were in order if she was going through the introduction process. Cambric, like most, knew who Annie was. By the time Annie had won her games, he had been a well-seasoned mentor who had been through ten games and knew how things worked.
He shrugged his broad shoulders. “Because you enjoy it and fine things should be enjoyed.” He assured her. “We make a lot of things like this in District Eight and send them to the Capitol. A lot of people gift them to me as a Victor to show their favor,” Cambric told her with a laugh. “I know nothing about crafting anything with fabric or yarn, I much rather work with a knife and wood.” Carpentry was more to his liking. “It should be given to someone who can make beautiful things out of it. I hope you’ll use it and enjoy it.”
A soft snort in response to Cambric’s side comment. One of a kind was right. The Capitolians would be eating all of this up right about now. So much drama involved, no doubt they thought it even better than the previous Quarter Quell. A majority of these flighty people likely hadn’t even stopped to imagine what if it were me and my sibling.
Swallowing a sigh at the thought, Finnick chuckled lightly along as though it was all a good joke. He doubted it was though. A plurality of the victors found the whole event abhorrent and being that Cambric was of a non-career District Finnick would bet all his money the older man was of such a mind.
Finnick eyed Cambric with some interest. There was a moment of pregnant pause in which he’d thought Cambric was about to say something of deep interest. However, when the man opened his mouth to speak the moment had clearly passed and the good humor was back. He’d play along then. Perhaps there
“Home brewed moonshine you say?” A glint of amusement shining in Finnick’s eyes, dropping his voice slightly he replied. “If they did. Well it’d be too late by the time they did notice wouldn’t it? Though, I’m sure they’d also cheer it as well. You know these people adore their drink.”
It was unlikely he’d participate if Cambric did decide to make the switch, but there was no direct harm in egging him on a little.
“Have you ever tired homebrewed moonshine?” He asked with raised eyebrows It was not the usual fare for people like them that had access to the Capitol’s fine smooth whiskeys and bourbons. “It’ll put some hair on your chest.” It had been the joke they had told each other growing up in District Eight when they would meet late at night and pass around their sad attempts to make their own alcohol.
“What about you Odair, want to try some?” Cambric asked with a laugh as he reached for the flask in his jacket pocket. Not that Cambric often turned down a fine bottle of whiskey, but sometimes you just wanted a little piece of home when surrounded by the Capitol hustle and bustle.
“You keep it down without making a face and I’ll give it to a sponsor, make a face and you have to charm them into trying it.”
