eyes grow darker at his words. can’t show him just how frustrated he’s making her. can’t let him see the way her blood’s boiling. can’t have him notice the slight shake in her jaw as it clenches hard. ace forces a smile, edging in closer. never did grasp that whole personal space thing.
“ i just don’t see why we can’t be friends. maybe i feel like seeing how you’re doing. cause i care. ”
she has little interest in friendship. entertainment, yes, but cato isn’t the easiest mark for her cruel manipulations. he’s savvy. at least enough to know to keep her at arm’s length. the game’s already wearing thin, that much is clear.
“ or – and i’ll admit this one is far more plausible – i want you to fight me. ”
and she’s already relaxed, letting the words hang in the air so she can drink in cato’s reaction.
“ the likelihood that we’ll both volunteer in the same year is low. so i want to learn from you. outside of normal training hours. no rules. you know i’ll give you a better fight than the others. ”
no mention that she can’t stand going home to nothing and just needs something to take the edge off. her mind can’t keep wandering back to the drunk dad back home or the grave marked with her mother’s name. you’d need actual friends to bring up the heavy stuff like that. better to let the pain remind you that you’re still alive, still fighting.
“ worst thing that happens? you kill me. can’t see you getting too broken up. ”
and as she moves closer, noses her way into his space, cato holds his ground. doesn’t snap. he won’t lash out. not quite yet. instead the boy does his best to look nonplussed despite the fact all he wants to do is shove, is push her away from him, bash her head against that wall, get her away from him...fists instead clench by his side and jaw sets tight before sort of twist between a smirk and a sneer mars his face.
“’cause you care?”
cause she cares. how cute. one of the first things a small child has to learn to survive in 2 is that no one gives a shit about you, not until you’re good with a sword or spear or knives or your fists. even then it’s not the kind of caring that the capitol talks about. it’s the time and energy that would be wasted if you’re too weak to win. ace doesn’t care about him and he knows it. “if you care you’re even weaker than i thought.” lips are taut for a moment as he listens, as her voice fills the silence of the otherwise empty room. she’s not the first one who wanted to fight him, as evidenced by his still sore and setting nose, blackening eyes. most don’t go about it so bluntly, though, and it has him thrown.
“weapons or fists?”
