dear_mun | (no subject)

[There's something strange, foreign that twinges through her now. So foreign, in fact, that it takes some time to put a name to it. It's something like... satisfaction, in a grim sort of way, to see him here, put into the same position as those he victimizes. To be a piece in someone else's game.

She can't help it; she's only human, and hardly a good one at that.

Her face is hard, impassive, and her voice is cold.]

That isn't up to you.

We're all a part of someone's game, aren't we, Miss Everdeen? We may both be players in this game, but I still have the... advantage.

[Every word is chosen carefully. Especially the next part.]

Tell me, in this game you're in, is Mr. Mellark safe?

[He doesn't know if Peeta's in her game, but he's taking a guess. He studies her carefully, searching for a flinch or grimace or anything to suggest weakness to him.]

[She has a counter for that, just waiting to spring off the tip of her tongue. That whatever advantage he thinks he has is null and void. He may be well-versed in games, but these are nothing they know.

At the mention of Peeta's name, though, it falters.

Every effort she can expend is now devoted to maintaining that impassivity. To keeping her emotions in check, to not allowing the all too familiar wave of overwhelming guilt slip through the cracks. It's a long moment, too long, before:]

Yes. [Her voice catches, just slightly with that word. Betraying her, even if she's quick to force the coldness to return.] He's safe.

Are you sure? [He studies his nails, as if this conversation has no meaning, as if it's actually boring him.] Are you quite sure? The world is full of enemies, Miss Everdeen.

[Of course, she knows better. Whatever the reason may be, this conversation is of great interest to him. Regardless of where his eyes are, her every move is being scrutinized. For a moment, it's as if she's gone back in time, back to the day she was due to leave for the Victory Tour, when she'd returned from the woods to find him waiting for her. The chill that now runs down her spine only adds to the parallels.

"Convince me."

There's, again, the sense that every step she treads carries the weight of the world.]

Maybe you should worry about yours.

Oh, I do, my dear, have no fear on that. I am ever watchful, ever vigilant. I see them before they ever become my enemies.

I only worry on your part because we are such friends. I would not want you to be caught unawares.

Ah, bravado. The last refuge of a cornered dictator.

Being cornered means there's no place left to go. I still have options. Though I doubt you care.

It doesn't matter.

Doesn't it? Your enemies should know who they're up against. Mine underestimate me. It is a poor decision on their part.

I wouldn't underestimate the taste people have for dangerous games.

My dear Mr. Mellark, I do not doubt it for a second. I do not underestimate my mundane, I only mean to warn her. [Warn, threaten, same thing.]

She probably thinks it's funny. The power of the Capitol isn't really the same without all the people and technology behind it, is it, Mr. President?

[Eye twitch.] Now I think you underestimate me, Mr. Mellark.

I don't suppose you are, are you?

I am not. Everyone has their part. Mine is at the board, not on it.

Everyone has their part; change is to be expected.

Not everything always goes the way you want it to.

Oh. You.

Edited 2013-11-27 04:39 (UTC)