until the last light fades // addison

District One surely had enough bartenders to throw a party, but Max wasn't going to ask questions when given an opportunity. Truth be told it was fucking freezing in Seven, no doubt the coldest district in Panem come wintertime, and she could do with a change. Just a weekend, one day of travel, one night of work, and another train ride home to arrive at sunset.

"Yeah, I'll do it," she'd grunted. "For twice my hourly rate."

They offered her triple, and on a rumour that people in One tipped big money she'd packed her bag and gotten her permit stamped by morning. Max had learned on the train ride there that this was all part of some inter-district initiative to spread the workload around the country - chefs were coming in from Four, waiters from Ten, security from Two. She'd also learned upon arrival that she needn't had packed so many clothes, a black-tie uniform and crisp white shirt laid out on her staff quarters sleepout bed.

She'd scoffed, throwing her duffel of plaid shirts and clean jeans aside, but if she had to wear the stupid pants and shiny shoes worth more than anything else in her wardrobe she would. Max had always been stubborn, but age had taught her to shut her mouth and just get on with it. Nobody else she'd worked with cared for pouting, especially not from a victor's sister. This industry had humbled her - and it's not like anyone in One even knew her.

She was a foreigner from the moment she'd stepped into the hall, grander and more luxurious than anything she could have dreamed of. Even the Peacekeeper Ball in Two all those years ago hadn't been this lavish, more militaristic and formal. Here men dressed in sequins and sparkles, women in barely anything. Dazzled by this place and how plain she felt with her hair tied back and her freshly-ironed shirt soft against her skin, she'd kept her eyes down and gotten to work doing what she was paid to do - manage the bar.

The night gleamed around her, music and speeches and chatter. Furs and jewels and silks, a dream land pirouette. It would have been overwhelming if she'd had time to look up from it all, arms already sore from shaking up drinks and throat croaky from barking at the waiters - for how polite the kids were from Ten, they were clearly out of their depths in this place. Her feet pinched in these shiny new shoes, never worn in and far from her usual comfy boots from back home. But she never complained, not once, three times her hourly rate drumming in the back of her head.

Flushed, cheeks tinged pink and hair falling out from her once-tight braid, four hours into the night she looked up to find full lips and huge eyes looking at her from across the bar and her heart caught in her throat for half a second.

Or maybe - blink - she was just out of breath from all the work. God, people in One liked to drink.

"What can I get ya?" Max asked the woman staring back at her, painfully aware of how put together she was and how frazzled she herself no doubt looked.