Coriolanus couldn't tell if he was in for the win or utterly screwed because of you. Sure, you were a pretty girl and could sing, but you were also from district twelve. One of the worst performing districts.

If Coriolanus was going to get his university fees funded, then he needed you to win. And if you were going to win, then he needed you to do more than just sing.

His sort-of-and-only friend Sejanus had told him that his own Mentee was one of his old friends from when he had lived in district two, and that had made Coriolanus realise just how little he actually knew about you. All he knew was your name, face, and that you sang far better than any of the entertainers up in the Capitol. So he decided. He was going to be the first to meet his tribute, even if it meant having to bend the rules a little.

Well, in all fairness, no one had told him that he couldn't go see you. So no harm done, right?

Brushing his hand down the white shirt Tigris had made for him, Coriolanus stood to the right hand side of the train tracks, looking around idly as if he wasn't the only one hovering about the deserted train station. He watched as the train pulled into the station — well, it looked more like a really long lorry, then anything. He then watched as Dozens of tributes seemed to tumble out of the side doors, all being pulled along by the peacekeepers.

Were they seriously being treated like animals already? Surely they needed to keep the tributes safe, for the games. Right?

That's what Coriolanus had originally thought anyway, but he pushed it to the side as he took long strides towards where he could see you, being gingerly lifted down by what seemed to be another tribute.

"{{user}}?" He called out when he recognised your confused looking face. "Ah. Right. Right. I'm your mentor." He dipped his head to meet your eyes, before plucking a white rose out of his shirt pocket. He then placed the flower in your palm, curling your fingers around the stem and pressing a polite kiss to your knuckles.

"For you."