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Amber wasn't happy with the stylists, but she seemed oddly compliant. She didn't say a word as her stylist poked and prodded, running his hand up her arms, pausing at the strange scar near her elbow. Eventually, the stylists came up with an outfit, and that was when Amber showed her first reaction, groaning. "It's a tree."

"Yes, yes," the stylist said impatiently. "That's what we are having you wear." "Why?!" "Because that's what we picked, now let's go, there's not much time."
They finished with makeup, and Amber's only reaction was a look of disgust.

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For the first time in hours, her lips uttered out a few words in order to respond to her cruel stylist. "Thank you..." she said quietly, but there was no negative tone in her voice. It was a simple, almost genuine 'thank you'. Sandra turned around to face Misa, seemingly shocked. Whether it be because she spoke or that she thanked her after being very unsatisfied wasn't clear, but it didn't make a difference. "You're... welcome, darling." Mid-way during the sentence it seemed like Sandra recovered from the shock and returned to her spiteful self, which only made Misa more disappointed. Oh! Her ring, how could she forget about it? She forgot to take it off before the styling, and they were sure to have noticed it. She quickly looked down at her hand and let out a sigh of relief when she saw it lying peacefully on her finger. It was odd that not a word was said about it, since her crew of stylists seemed to be serious about that type of stuff, but she was glad nothing happened. Lost in her panic, she didn't even realize Sandra was gone until seconds later.

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The first tribute to go up was the male tribute from District 1. The boy was wearing a dark gold jacket and a silver chain, with ripped jeans and silver shoes. Though the ensemble was odd, with the boy's dark hair it seemed to work. He was quiet, going up the stairs to the interviewing seats. His name, finally said aloud, was Reln. Ceaser, who had chosen dark green as his color this year, welcomed him loudly. "Welcome, Reln!" he said. "How are you doing?"

"Fine."

"How do you feel about being picked for the Hunger Games?"

"Mad."

"Whatever for?"

"I'm gonna die."

"Oh, err...so tell us, what do you think of your opponents?"

"My targets."

"But you just said that you're going to die."

"No more questions."

---

Misa watched as the first tribute did their interview, the boy who rode in the train here with her. She stared blankly at the screen, almost as if she had fallen asleep but her eyelids didn't follow. She had seen many interviews before, some were overly enthusiastic and optimistic, like they had forgotten what they were here for, and others were flat out honest, or just blatantly pessimistic. There was always a reason behind the attitudes though, the former would usually be for appealing to the audience and the latter would make it obvious that they didn't want to play around, showing a 'tough' side, I guess. She wasn't sure on what side she should go with, but she knew it wasn't really an option. Someone who looked like her wouldn't usually be seen as tough, and the careers usually buttered the capital up anyways. Well, there was always the option of saying nothing, or just saying yes or no to any of the questions. She decided to go with that, it was less effort, and she wouldn't risk sharing too much about herself. Her thoughts were stopped as soon as she heard her name, calling her to the stage. She reluctantly got up and slowly walked out, passing Reln along the way. As soon as she stepped foot on the stage, lights were shoved in her face and folowed her even after she sat down.

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Ceaser leaned forward eagerly. "So, Misa, how are you feeling?"

---

She looked over at Caesar, first looking at his ridiculous green hair. Well, it wasnt really ridiculous, he strangely wore it well. It still bothered her that he felt the need to change it every year, it seemed really pointless, unnecessary even. Well, when you live in te capiol you can do pretty much whatever you want, which she envied him for. He got to have the time of his life while everyone in the districts were slaving away, sending children to get killed every year. Now... what was the question? Oh, how she was feeling. In all honesty, she was angry. She was annoyed, angry, tired, and completely drained, but she wasn't going to tell the entire world that, so she opted for a simple shrug.

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He chuckled. "Not being very responsive, are we? So then, how did your family react to you being picked?"

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She let out a sigh, might as well give something other than just a shrug. Speaking of family... they must be watching, right? She turned her head towards the nearest camera, only staring at it for a few seconds. She had no doubt that they knew what she was thinking, meaning the only reason she would give a response is gone. After she turned her head back, she gave yet another shrug.

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Ceaser pursed his lips. "Well...If you won't talk, then are you scared? Mad like the last tribute? What?"

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Well, this was getting really boring... If Caesar was going to continue like this until time was up, she was going to have to sit through this a longer than she wanted. She leaned forwards, then tilted her head as her eyes narrowed. "Why do you care so much if I talk or not? None of this matters in the end, so why bother?" She didn't speak with rage or sarcasm, her tone wasn't sharp either.

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He sat back, startled a bit, but then he responded, stuttering slightly, "W-well, I wanted to know why you were so quiet. I-I suppose that-"

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"No, Caesar, you do it because it's your job. At least, that's the answer I would've expected from you. You have had so many previous tributes that haven't said a thing, at this point I figured you'd at least have a hint as to why... I think what I was really asking was, why do you still do this? Do you find enjoyment in this?" Her tone raised slightly, but she caught it quickly and brought it down. She still had her eyes narrowed, but she had leaned in a little more since replying to his stutters

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"We're moving on," Ceaser said quickly. "Last question. What do you think of your fellow tribute?"

---

The quick topic change was quite a welcome one, especially after the introduction of the last question. It was almost over, just one more question to answer. "He said it first, he's an opponent. Not to me in particular, but he's still an opponent." She refrained from mentioning anything about her plan to die early in the arena, it could be used against her or just drag on the conversation. It was already longer and more awkward than she hoped for,

---

"Well then," Ceaser said with a nervous chuckle. "Thank you for that, uh, interesting interview. Ladies and Gentlemen, Misa!"

---

She didn't hang around any longer, as soon as he said the words she got out of the chair and walked off. Things could've went much better than they did, but she couldn't change the past. She would just have to live with a weird and unsettling interview, or perhaps, die with it.

---

Faith shuffles nervously onto stage, in the same dress as before, twirling her hair nervously.

Ceasar beams, before asking Faith “What do you think the other Endal’s think of you?”


“Je n'ai pas été en contact avec ma famille depuis longtemps. Je ne sais pas comment ils vont se sentir, peut-être fiers ? Je m'en fiche, je ne me soucie pas d'eux.” Faith answers.
(I haven't been in contact with my family for a long time. I don't know how they're going to feel, maybe proud? I don't care, I don't care about them.)

Caesar obviously doesn’t speak French, so he gestures for a translator to help. The translator does help, and the message is translated clearly to the audience, who have very mixed feelings about the response.


Caesar clears his throat and moves on to the next question. “What do you think about the Games? How are you chances of surviving?”

“Les jeux sont des jeux, n'est-ce pas ? Le Capitole qui nous fait paraître sans valeur ? Mes chances de survivre ? Aussi minces que cette aiguille.” Faith responds, stabbing the needle onto the table. (The games are games, aren’t they? The Capitol making us seem worthless? My chances of surviving? As slim as this needle.)


Caesar laughs it off, saying “Now now, don’t say such ridiculous things. Do you speak English, and what do you think of all…this? You are a very young contestant after all!”

“ Ce n'est pas ridicule. C'est la vérité. Mais si la foule souhaite entendre des mensonges, je les dirai. Et l'anglais ? Êtes-vous un imbécile ? Si je connaissais l'anglais, je l'aurais très bien parlé dès le début. Je pense que j'ai des adversaires très redoutables, mais je ne me laisserai pas faire sans me battre. J'ai l'air jeune, et je le suis peut-être, mais j'ai aussi l'air d'une princesse pudique.” Faith answers again. (It is not ridiculous. It is the truth. But if the crowd wishes so as to hear lies, I shall speak it. And English? Are you a fool? If I new English I would have very well spoken it from the start. I think that I have very formidable opponents, but I won’t go down without a fight. I appear young, and maybe I am so, but then again I appear like a prissy princess)

Caesar chuckles “Very well then, last question. What strengths do you have?”

“Si j'en avais, je ne te le dirais pas, n'est-ce pas ? Au revoir” Faith stalks off the stage, looking haughty as she hitched her dress up and elegantly avoids any dirt. (If i had wouldn’t tell you, would I? Goodbye)

“Umm…well. What an enlightening view! Ladies and Gentlemen, Faith Endal!”

---

Cesar was still a bit flustered from the last interview. He hesitates before putting on his fake smile and standing up enthusiastically. "Up next is an interesting one folks! Bree Wilson!" He calls. The crowd politely applauds Bree on stage. Almost as if he could sense it, Fallon sticks close to her side, helping guide her to the chair. It seemed to be an impossible thing, a dog who was smart enough to know the situation and react accordingly. Cesar watches all of this with an impressed look and helps guide her down into the chair.

"Welcome Bree, you look lovely tonight-" indeed she did, her stylist's had once again put her in a new dress. Not that she really cared at this point. "How do you feel about going into the Games. Especially with your disability. Have you always had it?" Cesar asks.

"Yes" Bree replies to his final question first. "I've been blind since I was young. But I'm not going to let that get to me. I'll fight, just like every other tribute- my life is on the line anyway. Also, thank you for the compliment, you also look very lovely tonight." A few members of the crowd chuckle at her desperate attempt to make a joke.

"What's your plan for surviving?" Cesar asks. "I'm sure we're all very interested in hearing it." Bree tenses up at the question. This would be dangerous to answer, both as a truth or a lie. She wets her lips, desperately buying time so she can think about how she can safely answer this question.

"Surviving?" Bree asks. "I was actually hoping that my sponsors could drop down nice gifts to help me out. Maybe a lawn chair, some sunscreen, and a fancy drink. If I'm going to die, I would at least like to treat my last few days like a vacation." Once again, she uses dry humor to deflect the question. She couldn't tell if it worked or not. The heavy hesitation from both Cesar and the audience wasn't very encouraging.

"Final question, are you worried about bringing your dog into the arena?" Cesar asks.

"You mean Fallon?" Bree smiles, once again remembering the time he first found her. He was a stray, she could tell from his dirty fur while petting him. He must've been living in the woods, because there was dried blood on his fur. It was the first thing her parents noticed when he followed her home. Fallon knew how to survive, that was clear to Bree. She was certain that out of the two, he would last the longest. But she wasn't going to tell the audience any of this. "No" she simply answers.

"That's all I have for you then. Good luck Bree" Cesar tells Bree with a smile. He helps her out of the chair and sends her away towards the backstage. Fallon, ever so loyal, never once leaves her side.

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