The awkwardness(Jimmeh, Open)

It was odd, I'd expected a train to be considerably less comfortable. But then, I'd only seen a train twice before. And both of those had been supply trains. The one we all took was so much more... Luxurious. The Capitol emblazoned on the side was far more ornately decorated, filigree marking the out boundaries. Picked out in gold highlights. Inside was much the same. Plush velvet covered seats, food that put even the more affluent and indulgent members of our District in awe. Myself? I simply partook in the delights without comment, myself and Eris isolating ourselves in the corner, away from the mindless prattle of everyone else, with their 'ooh's' and 'ah's'. So very childish. I remember getting off the train, and some voice wished me luck. I snatched my bag up with all of my assigned gear, plus the clothing for the week,scowling at the comment, still not registering who said it. Only the weak need luck. My tone is venomous as I disembark the train, a fairly large space materialising around me and Elspeth, such is our icy demeanour.

Later, I stood in the courtyard, looking at one of the unusual plants, trying to blot out the bizarre and heady mix of scents that heralded arriving in District Four. I disliked it. It was strange, it clung to the nostrils, invaded my clothes. The smell of salt spray. My thoughts are interrupted by a whistling, originating from a boy sat on the bench, who looks at me. I stand for a moment, looking at him, raising an eyebrow at him for a moment, before my patience wears thin. I stride over to him, a serene look on my face, before leaning forward, as though speaking to a petulant child. You want a tip sugar? My tone is sickly sweet, concealing the annoyance of being disturbed in my own thoughts.

I continue to look at him, before leaning a little closer, my expression turning baleful, eyes flashing with barely restrained malice. Speak when you get my attention. I don't like my time being wasted by airheaded boys who can't start a conversation themselves. My tone is icy, standing upright, my tiny frame doing nothing to conceal the sheer vitriol that I speak with. Now, do you actually have something to say to me, or are you just going to sit there, doing your best impression of a fish out of water, gawping at me? Well? Really, who does he think he is to summon me over, only to say nothing? Idiot...