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He wanted to be a Gamemaker ever since he was a boy. The artistic composition that went into the Hunger Games was inherently fascinating to him. Just as colors, strokes, and subjects were carefully crafted into a painting, so was every carnivorous plant, acid fog, and Tracker Jacker incorporated with an aesthetic eye and devoted hand.

He was not a typical Capitol child in that sense. Being a Stylist or an Escort was considered more glamorous. They were allowed to travel, able to form personal relationships with the Tributes, and if they were popular enough; became household names. No one under a double digit age was very interested in the intricate mechanics of the Games, nor did it translate to much fun when playing make believe. As esteemed as Gamemaking was, the sheer demand it required was highly disproportionate with the intense schooling and cutthroat competition. Those who joined for the glory never stayed long. Because the work was mostly done in advance throughout the year with the rest accomplished in a private Control Room, Gamemakers were reduced to bit players in the broadcasts and generally kept to themselves. Outside of elite social circles, they were largely anonymous; tireless cogs and springs that worked in mysterious ways.

The only time the curtain was pulled back and due attention was given was during the Interviews. It was not as highly regarded as the main events of the evening but at seven years old (the age his parents deemed he was old enough to watch the Games in their entirety), he sat attentively on his heels in front of the tele-set as Head Gamemaker Cassius Morrow came on screen. He was completely starstruck by the imposing figure in red and black. The other Gamemakers had already been interviewed but this was different; this was the man President Snow had personally chosen to captain the most important event of the year. His appearance alone summoned a roar of applause and Caesar Flickerman, who was polite to everyone, had a reserved admiration in his eyes as they shook hands.

The Game that year was phenomenal. He was completely captivated from start to finish. Before the Victor was even crowned, he had already made up his mind. He declared to his amused parents, "I'm gonna be a Gamemaker when I grow up. No—Head Gamemaker. I'll pick the arena and make up the traps and meet Caesar Flickerman!" He slept soundly that night; wonderful visions playing in his head of the things he could create.

His childish dreams did not stay childish for long. He studied hard, found the right connections and after years of toiling away and bowing and scraping, the only desire he ever had was attained. His first Interview had been surreal to say the least. The hot glare of the spotlights, the thousand glittering eyes of the audience, the one and only Caesar Flickerman seated beside him was like a fantasy come true. When he was fresh and new, he was certain there was no better feeling in the world than becoming the kind of man he grew up idolizing. But years later, with the exacting work and mounting stress beginning to wear him down, he could feel the rumblings of discontent in the distance. Small vibrations as they were while he was still in his prime and enjoying himself, he knew they would only grow closer and stronger as time passed.

That was the funny thing about the human condition; fulfillment only left a hole bigger than the one it filled. It was only a matter of time before it would be replaced by something else.

After being interviewed, he was ushered into a private green room to relax and enjoy the rest of the live taping via tele-set. Though it gave no indication of individual performance in the Games, he liked the Tribute Interviews for what it was; strategy disguised as gratuitous entertainment.

What set it apart from the similarly extravagant Parade was the fact that it was more like a staged play than an actual interview. The Tributes were dressed to the nines and spoke with the fluency of actors, playing up their 'persona'. It was a tactic taught by Mentors to ingratiate themselves with the viewers in the short span of time they were allotted. Being memorable and likeable was key. The characters never deviated much from the standard fare; beauty queens, brutes, strong-and-silent types, shy flowers and sly foxes. A few were a bit more ambiguous, but in the end, they were always a little glossier than the truth.

One by one, the Tributes took center stage. They spoke about the family they left back at home, their first impressions of the Capitol, their inflated good odds. Caesar would quip back good-naturedly and the audience would laugh. It was the same thing twenty times over. His cursory interest waned as the ice in his whiskey began to melt. Focus and patience were supposed to be the strongest virtues in a Gamemaker and he found that at the moment he was sorely lacking in both.

Try as he might, he couldn't keep his thoughts from drifting back to his own interview. Just moments ago, he had been asked of his opinion of the current crop of Tributes and without thinking, he mentioned her. It was a small slip of the tongue that he instantly regretted. He knew he could do little to rein in his curiosity. Whenever it did manifest itself, a dull pressure built up on the bridge of his nose, the kind that usually occured when he was elbow-deep in work and hit a mental block. Pinching the afflicted area and taking a breather away from the problem for an hour or two would cure it, but the current pangs radiating between his eyes could not be as easily fixed. Avoiding her, given their roles, would be impractical with the next few days of training and evaulation followed by strict supervision during the Games. He needed all of his mental faculties in working order to make it through the next few weeks and fretting over such a non-issue would just exacerbate things. The only solution was to ride out the fever with as much professionalism and dignity as he could muster.

(The impatience he was experiencing as he waited for her appearance notwithstanding.)

She looked quite stunning in a scarlet silk gown that aged her beyond her sixteen years. It was the type of dress he would see at a fancy social function; vastly different from the revolutionary costume she wore to the Opening Ceremonies until she treated Caesar and the audience with a twirl in her dress and synthetic flames spurred to life. They licked up her skirt faster and brighter with every spin, to the delight of all. So this was going to be a theme.

Hearing her voice for the second time was odd; like taking a miscalculated step. Of course, the first he heard her speak, it had been choked with emotion. Now her words were carefully chosen, polished and bordering on stilted. She was a perfect lady in her fine dress with her hands neatly folded in her lap. He sat there, puzzled and not sure what to make of it, nor given the time to. The other District Twelve Tribute was next and his attention automatically shifted. He gave him an appraising look for the first time.

The boy seemed ordinary enough; blonde, stocky, and cripplingly nice looking; not the type who had it in him to win a battle royal or choose to engage in one much less. He had been overshadowed by the girl before at the Reaping and the Parade, but here he had an upper hand; a superior stage presence. Peeta Mellark (as he had finally bothered to learn) was full of charm and confidence, easily winning over the host and the audience where his counterpart had been slightly shy and skittish. He was a deceptively clever one. With no reputation to precede him, he managed to steal the entire night with his own ammunition.

"Because she came here with me."

The audience set off in a collective gasp. A heart warming story of sacrifice and the tragedy of star-crossed lovers contained to one little-known District seemed too good to be true.

Too good to be true it was. He shrugged off his initial surprise and finished the remains clinging to the bottom of his glass tumbler. He had to give points for creativity but in the end it was, after all, just a gambit in this play of empty words.

The media dubbed her 'the girl on fire'. It wasn't terribly creative of them, but it did ring true. Katniss was an unexpected rising star, inflaming the hearts of the people. But training was to begin the next day and reality would set in. She would be ranked by merit and not any measure of pageantry.

Before he went to sleep, he happened across a recap of hers playing on the late night Games broadcast. The Reaping, her fiery entrance at the Opening Ceremonies, the moment she graced the stage for her interview were all packaged together. With all of her facets tailored as one, the contrast was startling. She was an ever-evolving personality, shape shifting with each appearance. And yet her latest incarnation, as beautiful as it was, bored him. She had been a breath of fresh air; a novelty in his artificial world now tamed and primped into a Capitol citizen. It was the sort of push he would need to fall out of his fixation, if he wasn't already aware that like the confession, it was only a bid to appear more appealing.

It might have worked on a majority of viewers but he preferred her as he'd seen her first; a tough scrap of a girl with her head held high, when she had been… He wouldn't say 'pure'. It didn't suit her, one born amidst coal dust and hardship. 'Raw' was the word. That girl would still be there once she was stripped of Capitol influence in the way she spoke and dressed. Perhaps he would see it again in the Training Room.

The recap ended with some speculations and commentary from a news reporter, followed by a promise of strict updates of her progression in training and ranking. He turned off the tele-set; it was getting late and he was expected to rise early in the morning.

'She's becoming overexposed', he mused to himself as he laid his head back on the pillow, the darkness settling across the room. And it was true, because that night he dreamt of her.

A/n: Special thanks to Felicity Dream for helping me get a canon detail right. :)

Sorry it's been awhile since my last update! I wrote this chapter a million times before getting it right and I'll probably go back to edit it again. I've also been busy with my new Senekiss AU 'Smokescreen'. Check it out if you haven't yet!

-Chiisana inori