Five

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"I don't trust him," Ratley whispered as they lay in the branches of the tree, trying to find sleep.

"I think he's got a face like a painting," Whiskey admitted. "Reminders me of someone else I know.." she hinted, watching the boy through the leaves. Her eyes lingered on the bridge of his nose and the curve in his neck. It wasn't often she could freely stare at him like this.

"Of course you'd say that, loverbird." He snapped back, full of venom.

Whiskey sat up, surprised by his anger. "What are you talking about Rat? You know none of that's true, it's all just the cameras. Trust me, I don't like him."

"I don't care if you like him or not, Whisk," Ratley huffed. He pushed his head against the trunk of the tree. "You're not listening to me. You can see the danger he poses. I mean for goddess sake, Whiskey. He's a capital boy. Why would he care about you?"

Whiskey rolled her eyes, "I trust him because he's my mentor. Are you telling me you don't trust your own mentor?"

Ratley replied, "I don't trust my mentor. She clearly is only doing this to win that prize money."

"Ratley. I don't know why you care so much. We're going to be dead in a few weeks anyway," Whiskey grumbled, resting against her hands.

Both of them stayed quiet for a while. Whiskey almost started to think Ratley had gone to sleep when he suddenly said, "I care because you're my friend Whiskey."

Whiskey sighed, rolling over so she could watch the stars in the sky. "Of course, Ratley. You always care because I'm just your friend."

"It's true, Whiskey. You're my best friend," Ratley persisted. "I care because I don't want you to make a fool of yourself."

"Thanks," Whiskey sighed. "But you don't need to protect me."

She could hear the hurt her words caused in the silence, but she didn't feel bad. She was selfish. She loved him, he didn't and they were going to die that way. He sure as hell didn't need to protect her. She could take care of herself.

The leaves rustled in the wind around her, trying to drift her to sleep. The stars flickered from all the way up in the galaxy. Whiskey felt alone in a way she'd never felt it before. Death was starting to show up in her shadows and now, laying in the darkness, she could feel him watching over her, sharpening his scythe. The breeze suddenly made goosebumps shiver up her skin.

She quietly listened to the sound of Ratley sleeping, trying to copy his rise and fall, when she heard a bang on the zoo bars.

"Everdeen?" She heard a familiar voice call out quietly. Immediately she pounced from the tree and landed softly on the ground.

"What are you doing here?" She called out.

"Where are you?" Snow asked, his eyes searching the darkness.

"What are you doing here?" Whiskey repeated, not moving a muscle.

"I brought you some food," Snow extended his arm through the zoo bars. "Figured you'd be hungry."

Above her, Ratley stirred in his sleep. His words suddenly flooded her head. Don't trust him.

Whiskey crept into view and brushed the leaves off her frilly dress. Snow's expression faded into relief when he saw her. "Here," he try to hand it to her.

"Why are you doing this for me?" She questioned, leaving him hanging with his arm out.

"Everdeen, take the food," he protested. "You need to eat."

"Why. I'm going to die anyway. You can't truly believe I'm going to win," she replied sharply, wrapping her arms around her body.

Snow sighed and sat on the ground, giving up. He flicked his blonde hair back and thought for a second. "We need to win because you deserve to."

"Sure," she rolled her eyes and sat down on the other side of the bars. She could smell his roses. "Listen, Coriolanus, I'm not here to make friends and I don't even except to come home. But you obviously care enough to be here in the middle of the night sneaking me food. So tell me honestly why this is so important to you."

Coriolanus kept his eyes focused on the dirt. "My family needs the money. It may seem that the capital is perfect and everyone is rich but I really need this. Nobody knows how poor we are. This cash will help my family survive."

The wind brushed past them, bringing an icy touch to the night. Without saying a word, Whiskey reached through the bars and grabbed his hand. He looked up at her face, gratefully.

"I'll do whatever I can to win," She whispered. "But I can't promise anything."

"Thanks," he smiled. "Actually, speaking of, I came here to ask you about something."

Whiskey titled her head curiously, trying to read his expression. "What do you mean?"

"Well, the way you are going to win is through sponsors. So we need to make the people like you. We could really play into this lovebird thing," he suggested hopefully.

Whiskey immediately recoiled away from him, moving her hand away. "I'm not.."

"No listen," Coriolanus grabbed her hand again, holding it tighter. "Imagine how the crowds would love you if they thought you were in love with me, a forbidden romance. It would be perfect for sponsors."

"Wouldn't they accuse me of cheating in the games? You I mean. They'd assume you'd try and make me win," whiskey pointed out, looking down with concern.

"Or," he continued to push the idea. "They'd be on the edge of their seat watching me watch you survive."

"I'm not so sure," Whiskey whispered. "I'm sorry. It's just..." she subconsciously looked back at where Ratley was sleeping. "I don't know."

"Do it for me," he pleaded.

Staring at this desperate boy with his red capital jacket and white button up, whiskey felt bad for him. His blue eyes and icy blonde hair watched her pleadingly.

"Fine," she finally gave in. "I'll do it for you."

THE HUNGER GAMES: the taste of Whiskey and Snow // CORIOLANUS SNOWWhere stories live. Discover now