Honestly (Now open, party crashers welcome)

Eyelashes painted to midnight black, cheeks blushing artificially to a cool rose red, powder streams, gentle steams, thick creams. Pystan slowly opened her eyes to her reflection, neutral in face, body still as a statue as two female servants surrounded her in front of a large rectangular mirror. Seeing a tube of lipstick, the fifteen-year old pursed her lips, receiving in return a gentle coating of crimson red followed by a slather of shiny gloss. The young blond had let the people do their work as she sat there with hands on her lap, the feel of a smooth silk dress on her palms and fingertips. For tonight, she had adorned a garment that seemed white from a distance but, in actuality, was tinted a very light blue. The straps hugged an inch of her shoulders, tight to be a second-skin - to accentuate her curvature, her mother would say - and slipped on a pair of high-heels that magically grew her half an inch, the color of black licorice. The maids had clasped a golden necklace around her neck after playing with her hair to a bun with a couple strands of side bangs to brush her face; the accessory held to an decoration: a spiraling bird between a barely-visible cleavage and hiding a little behind a giant bow, its long ribbons almost brushing the floor.

In a matter of time, the ladies bowed and left without a word shared. Pystan rose from the chair slowly, daintily, and made way to the front of the house, tracing her fingers along the handrail downstairs. Her little brother and parents were already prepared for the departure, all in fancy suits and dress. The younger lad was playing with his bow, scowling, then receiving a fair warning to present himself pleasantly by the patriarchal figure. The four walked out into the sunlight and walked not far to a tall building filling up with various guests. Many Pystan remembered from earlier parties; and, as such, greeted them with a wave even before entering the premises. She could see Cauger doing the same in the corner of her eye, which she smiled to.

He's catching on.

They had gone their separate ways once the four entered the party grounds, inspecting the people acquainting with each other, smiling, laughing, chuckling over nice punch and sophisticated wines. The females would cover their mouths slightly in their giggles; the men closing their eyes and chuckling softly, elegantly to present themselves better in front of the 'lovely ladies'. The lighting was a nice balance; the air was vibrant and absent of care. Whiteness of the area complemented everything.

Pystan had been approached by many an acquaintance who desired her name; thus, she would talk to a group at a time, revealing little bits and expressing herself as a friendly sort of girl - which she truly was, deep down. The blond tried to flutter like a butterfly and be colorful to touch every person's interest. Some girls her own age also gave attention to her. They started to gossip away, filling themselves of drunken good cheer. No ale to satiate the thirst; only good wholesome fun.

Not long - to her - after all the people of the high-life wanting her grace, another girl stood in front, a blond much like herself. The girl had expressed small sorrow for never being acquainted and - with the grasp of an arm - asked for the pleasure to talk chitchat. Pystan smiled the best kind. "I am quite saddened, too, that we haven't made our acquaintances. We must get ourselves established sooner." Pystan shook her head. "No, don't ask of me; allow me the honor to speak with you. Please lead the way so we may chat. I would be delighted so."

Heh... I always found it weird to say things like that... Oh well. This will be a nice evening.

Walking away from the crowd, Pystan could feel a set of her own orbs following her, curious, perhaps hurt, as perceived in the corner of her eye. In response to the wandering look of her own kind, she had smiled wider, a message instilled which seemed to quell the looker's emotions. The cheer was not peculiar; it even seemed natural and befitting of a Jam. Such young hostility, she noted, was rare in practice towards another female. Strange how he goes like that. I must tell him later about his behavior.

The two walked to the window, the streetlights not impeding the work of the apartment's for the party. The great atmospheric denseness impacted by overdoses of perfumes, colognes, and body heat had started to disburse to the outside. It was a large gradual jump, and it showcased how opening one window could alleviate one's senses a good deal. Pystan certainly appreciated it. She smiled much more freely.

Upon the hostess - revealed to be a Miss Brigit Switch - extending friendship in hand, Pystan grasped firmly yet lightly, conservative but ensuring that boldness and courage also composed her character. The blond in light-blue smiled with reservation, almost a shy reclusive nature manifesting out of her person. "Oh no, it is a pleasure to have your name either early or late. The girl widened a good smile. "A proper introduction for myself: my name is Pystan, eldest and only daughter of the Jam family. I am delighted to have met you, Miss Brigit Switch."

After saying, she laughed a little. "I hope you excuse my language. This is not how I usually chat; however, it is the way my family insists to use at parties and social gatherings. If you were to see me outside of these walls, hopefully you won't be in too much shock." The girl let go of her grip on Brigit's hand. "Lovely evening we will have soon. I must compliment you and your family on the wonderful party so far. To see such energy in the early stage of a gathering is grand.

Pystan smiled her best smile at Brigit, adding a dazzle to her eye. "Oh, I'm finding the Hunger Games to be very exciting and noteworthy. Especially that finale with the District 1 girl and the District 12. Would you have expected District 12 to win again? A 12-year old, no less!"

She had put more of her true personality in the conversation. "Surely, though, I noted, that her success may have been guaranteed because she had her alliance's protection. Have you noticed that? No matter where she was, she had someone to bear arms for her. I can't tell if that is plain devious or pure genius in pursuit to maintain life, but it worked for her.

"I do feel sorry for our Tributes, however. I hoped for our District to have itself a winner. It would have been grand to have another to add to our history and another neighbor to the Victor Square." Pystan twitched a grin.

"How about yourself, Miss Brigit Switch? Any thoughts to share on the outcome or the events during the Hunger Games? I would be most interested to hear."

Pystan remained in her dainty doll smile, reserved but tinging emotion at the corners with mirth. She and Miss Switch were having a lovely chat of the Games away from the gatherers inside. Her thoughts were uncluttered, allowing leeway in receiving new data. In regard to the smile reciprocated, the blond in blue deepened the grin. Sentimentality.

Brigit had carried the conversation to the District 3 Tributes, and Pystan only glowed more - though with a touch of sadness. The girl folded her hands over the abdomen, grim. "Frankly, I had high hope for our District to bring more glory to our reputation; however, I do understand your reason. The girl from District 1 did showcase the high District's potential. What with her swordsmanship skills and beautiful-but-lethal looks, she had such a high caliber, certainly." Shrug. "Knowing my own citizens, they did have a better chance than the rest; but, I suppose those capabilities were not enough to combat the skilled. I do suppose you are correct with Miss Clark."

Frown. "I had better faith, especially when she agreed to being the 55th Hunger Games Tribute. I guess what I am left now is hope that she did her best, fought with all her potential, and sparked new Careers to attempt better next time."

Pystan tried smiling again. "Frankly, Miss Switch, in regards to her death, I can say I will do better than best if I get selected. In honor of her. I will fight for District 3, the Capitol, and for Miss Clark. Such is what I think. Honestly."

"Thank you dearly, Miss Brigit. It gives me renewed confidence to hear words such as those." Pystan smiled sweetly. "Yes, I will make certain the determination and the training are implemented well during my Hunger Games, if and when I get reaped. They will be my driving force-- oh. I mean, they will be my driving force along with my family."

Pystan got to thinking real fast. This year, not one kill was made under District 3's name. Melanie Clark lasted far - the top four - and mowed down no one; Garrett Vanderbuilt died about Day 1 or Day 2 by a shark. Surprised, she was, when the blond made that observation. Neither could get a single kill count in before their own lives ceased to be but memories to the wind. I'll be the same. Death was ensured twenty-thirds out of twenty-four, a little more than .9, or 90 percent.

If there was not the possibility or probability that she was going to be the winner - as ridiculous as that sounded - good thing there was more children to take her place. The Capitol would get a chuckle out of her death; and, that was always one of the best events to happen. Gaining Capitol favor was a benefit rather than a curse, as pounded multiple times by her family.

The conversation is going well, at this rate they could claim friendship by the end of the night. Not real friendship of course, Brigit doubts any of the people hear have any real friends. Relationships are just an easy way to ensure you're tied securely into this despicable way of life. Brigit wonders how many of these 'friendships' she'll be severing once she's brought all these people down. Funny that she's never thought of that before, she always figured she thought of everything when it came to brining down the rich of District three.

Well Pystan wouldn't actually be one of those people anyway. Career families where different. Their wealth came directly from the capitol, all of District Three could burn to the ground and They'd still be rich. Brigit rarely considered the career families among her enemies. Instead she grouped them with the capitol.

This all played out in her mind as Brigit continued her polite and scripted exchange with The career girl. Forever the multi-tasker Brigit also took note of her father's position and increasing drunkenness. Brigit sighed internally.

A fourth notable occurrence occupied another fraction of her attention in the form of a young boy headed their way. It was immediately apparent that he didn't belong here, not because of his clothes or standing, but the way he held himself and moved through the crowd suggested a lack of comfort in this environment. This immediately gained him favour in the back of Brigit's mind.

She turned to address him when it became clear that his destination was herself and Pystan but before he approached a suitable distance for conversing he tripped. Brigit didn't know weather to laugh or gasp at what followed and instead covered her mouth to stifle the sound that seemed to lay directly in-between.

The boy seemed suitably traumatized but Brigit hadn't yet judged Pystan's character enough to know if she would brush off this event or tear into the young lad. So instead she stepped forward.

"Accidents happen young man do relax" contradicting the hostess' word on this would be quite a slight in manners and Brigit had judged Pystan well enough to know she wouldn't do anything to disturb her polite grace. With the knowledge that she had detoured any potential verbal abuse to the boy she turned her attention to Pystan.

"It's lucky I suppose Pystan that we are similar in size, if you feel the damage to the dress is too great I can direct you to my wardrobe to find something else for the duration of the party."