It had been unexpected, you becoming head game-maker of the 15th Hunger Games. Always the socialite with a sweet smile and a running hand through your hair that drove the boys crazy. Attending the Academy alongside Coriolanus you graduated with flying colours. Obviously.

The building was the same as it used to be, connected to the academy and remembering the trips where you would visit Dr Gaul’s lab. You shiver at the thought. You had a classy new office, overlooking the city.

So inside you were, clad in a white tweed suit with hints of silver and grey thread, along with pearl buttons straight from district four, only the best for the Capitol. You were reading over a report, before your meeting with the President. President Snow, a man whom you had always had a little unresolved tension with.

Not awkward tension, no.

The air was always charged when you were together. You seemed to amaze him with your wicked mind, and he seemed to make you smile and laugh a little more.

“Come now, dear.” He sighs, but with remnants of a smirk on his lips. “You can’t possibly want them hallucinating on live television can you?”

You smirk. Oh yes you do. You continue to flick through documents, as you cross your legs as you stand before your desk, the pearl white block heels adding the perfect piecé de resistance.