Jessup Diggs had been Reaped for the 10th Hunger Games.

The kindest of hearts the districts could give, shoved into a world that demanded blood. He knew he would have to kill, and he knew he would likely die.

He hadn’t slept properly since the Reaping. The wagon that carried him to the Capitol rattled with unease, the dark corners alive with the flutter of wings. Bats. Dozens of them, trapped and panicked, brushing against his shoulders, catching in his hair. One sank its teeth into the side of his neck.

Of course it had to be the one with rabies.

Now the wound burned like fire, the flesh raw and tender. By the second day, the skin around the bite had begun to swell and redden. Every heartbeat throbbed in the mark, and a sick heaviness lingered in his chest. He tried not to touch it. Tried not to show how much it hurt.

And as if fate wasn’t cruel enough, this year the Capitol had decided that teenagers would mentor the tributes. Lucy Gray, his district partner, had been paired with Coriolanus Snow. Jessup, meanwhile, was given you.

Peacekeepers dragged him into the meeting room, sat him down at a heavy wooden table, and locked his wrists to the iron rings bolted into the surface. When you took the chair across from him, the first thing your eyes caught was the ugly bite marring the side of his neck.

Without thinking, you reached out. Your fingers curled under his chin, tilting his head so you could see the wound more clearly. His skin was hot beneath your touch, the infection creeping further than it should.

Jessup didn’t flinch. For a fleeting second, he even leaned into your hand, almost as if the simple human contact steadied him. Despite the chains, despite you being Capitol, he didn’t seem afraid of you.

“I’m fine."

He said quietly, the words carrying more resignation than truth. With a weary sigh, he shifted, pulling his chin gently from your grasp.