you’d got annoyed. what else were you meant to do, you had to make an impression. the damned gamemaker, sponsors and capitol scum had ignored you as you tried to show off your skills. you’d picked up the bow they’d provided and shot 3 perfect bullseyes in a row. only to turn around to them enveloped in ignorant conversation up on their little balcony, surrounded by the lavish feast that none of them had touched. almost like a taunt.

before you knew it, you’d poised the bow upwards and shot the apple from the pigs mouth that was in the centre of the table. this earned various shocked gasps and they all simultaneously turned to see who’d committed this irredeemable act. still in your fit of barely controlled rage, you bowed.

“thank you, for your cooperation.” the patronising words had left your mouth before you could rethink your actions; and then you dropped your bow and promptly strode out of the room.

you were immediately met with effies shrilling tone as you got back to the living room of your quarters. peeta and cinna were giving you nervous but sympathetic looks as she droned on, chastising you about how the capitol would react and how you’d surely never get any sponsors now.

shortly after you sat down on the couch, haymitch strode in with the last thing you’d expected: a shit-eating grin on his face. he pointed at you, glass of whiskey in hand.

“nice shooting, sweetheart,” his eyes glinted with spite as he sat down, and laughed about your spectacle.