I ~ Need \\ A FAVOR ;; of you (Shrimp)

Small slapping noises were heard as I meander along the narrow pathways of the District. I was used to this by now - dirty surroundings and the tattered remains of people no longer frightened me. In fact, I had taken to bringing an extra piece of bread, some money - really anything along my walk in case someone tried to jump me (or if I was feeling particularly generous, which was often the case). Father's job makes good money after all; I haven't really had to deal with hunger like others. So why not give what's not needed to said hungry people? I mean, that' just my logic. It may be a bit discombobulated, a tad bit out there (I mean, really - who gives things to others in District 6 besides those drug dealers?), but it makes me happy.

Out of the corner of my eye I notice something lurking in the shadows, so I turned around. Well, I probably shouldn't have done that for I'm forced up against a wall with a blade to my throat, and the man seemed rather hysterical, demanding that he be given something. Probably money, maybe food. I was used to this so I wasn't showing any fear - that's the worst thing to do after all. So quickly and quietly I take the small amount of money that I have, as well as a large roll and hand it to him. He still doesn't seem completely satisfied though, although it seems that most of his fears have been allayed. He wants something else. Well, I really don't have anything else, and when I state that I get a shallow cut on my neck, causing me to grimace in pain.

Fine, he wants it that way, he'll get it that way. One knee to the crotch - that's all it takes for him to crumple, and for me to go on my merry way. "Have a nice day now, ya hear?" I call over my shoulder as I exit the dark alleyway and head towards the District Square. A bunch of people have already gathered - today there are only two tributes left, and while ours have already perished (Poor Phoenix. Poor Evan), the two favorites are the kind that many from this District like - not careers. If Anastasia or Maia or Winona, or York or Azulon or Snip (I make it a point to at least remember the deceased ones names) had made it to this point, some people in the District would be pretty pissed off, I guess. In my opinion, it's a bit like cheating, the way that those eight would have been trained to get ahead.

I make my way to the bench, rubbing my neck as I do so. Gosh, that actually really hurt, not gonna lie. And I actually don't even have a chance to think about it much more because I hear my name being called across the square. To my knowledge, I'm the only girl in District 6 whose name is Galaxy, so immediately my head turns to the location of the noise to see - oh, hi Mrs. Clarke! I met her recently, but I like the lady; she's pretty nice and very polite and one of those strong kind of people (a bit like my mother, I think) - in fact, I might even want to be like her when I grow up. I want to be the kind of person who won't take any backtalk from anybody, and I feel like she's that kind of person. She's walking over as I'm noticing that the blood from my wound has trickled down my neck, and I change the angle that I'm looking at her so the wound's less noticeable (or perhaps I'm so oblivious that I've made it more visible to her).

"I need you to do me a favor." My eyebrows raise upwards in disbelief - Mrs. Clarke wants me to do her a favor? She's like, one of the most awesomest people in the entirety of District 6! Of course I'll help her. I shift over to my right so she can sit (and so she can't see the cut), beckoning for her to join me. "Sure thing, Mrs. Clarke," I say, my voice seeming to be brimming with excitement with the prospects of making her proud, sort of (wow, I really must have no life I guess. I really just hang out with Nova most of the time anyways). "What is it that you need?"