Our Darkest Deeds Do We Tell // [ Soap x Glamour ]

None of us are promised to see tomorrow, and what we do is ours to choose
Forget about the sunrise, fight the sleep in your eyes

Another Games, another secret burning a hole in his heart. Glamour hadn't been able to lie to Jareth, not completely. He'd dropped more hints than President Snow during a Quell. He was fairly sure Jareth had caught on early and indulged him. It was treason to announce oneself as a future Gamemaker, after all. And, like everything in Panem, nothing was locked in stone until the President himself declared it publicly. So, Glamour had fretted and sweated through the 66th, never once thinking about the progression of the Games themselves. He'd been an escape for Jareth, a quiet (if absent) sounding board. It wasn't until the Finale that he fully tuned in, ready to take some pointers and improve on the 62nd. His biggest failing, in his own estimation, had been the insufferable amount of time the tributes had spent in the lifeless pit. He would do better with the 67th.

But the Finale was nothing like he expected. It wasn't Jareth at all; he could only see Azure's handiwork. He wanted to blame her entirely, but the truth was that both Laila Sycamore and Soap O'Leary fought ruthlessly to the end. Glamour had congratulated Jareth with tears in his eyes. A victor from District Nine? What a disappointment. Of course the President handled the news admirably, introducing Colgate to the world once he was fit to be seen. Glamour had clapped politely alongside his fellow Gamemakers. He'd been given the honor of sitting nearest to the President, albeit in one of the Capitolite seating sections. It still gave him an advantage. Once the idea entered his head, he could not shake it, even though the ceremony honoring Colgate.

As soon as it ended, he leapt from his seat, planted a blue-stained kiss on Jareth's cheek, and disappeared beneath the podium's structure. He had a bullet proof excuse, which he aired as he passed the first set of Peacekeepers, "Official 67th Games business!" They paid him no mind at all. Buoyed, Glamour skipped his way through concrete halls and slender elevators, the passageways reserved for those who worked in the Training Center. A privilege and a curse of Gamemaking was to know the sterile parts of the building intimately.

Two left turns, and he was exactly where he needed to be. He had only to wait a moment for Colgate to appear, guarded as always. Glamour skipped right up to him. "Boys, could you give some space?" He waved off the Peacekeepers, who lagged by only a few steps. Glamour scowled, but there was no point in arguing with the stodgy white uniforms. "Just ignore them," Glamour whispered conspiratorially, although the effect was lost as he had to crane his head up just to be within eyesight of Colgate's ear. Annoying. If he'd been the Gamemaker, he might have taken the opportunity to shorten his legs several inches. Another opportunity lost. "So, you're to be Colgate, I wager from that little introduction. It's not the worse. Was your mother very clean? I'm sure she'll be ever so shocked at your transformation. I hardly recognized you! Except for that nose of yours. It's always good to leave something natural about yourself, even if it's flawed. Makes for a good story. But listen to me, prattling on! And you do know me, don't you?" Glamour finally took a breath, his smile both vacant and demanding.

After a moment, he laughed and tugged Colgate forward. "You've got a busy schedule. I can't be responsible for holding you up. But why waste your time to-ing and fro-ing without any good company? And I can be excellent company, Colgate. Someday, when we have less pressing matters to talk about, you'll see. But that day is not today."

No, not by a long shot. And after Julian... well, Glamour wasn't sure any other Victor would ever measure up. Why ruin a perfect score? Why indeed. The thought plagued him, slithered its way into his nightmares. The 62nd had not been flawless, but it had been damn good. It was a Games to be proud of, and no one would have faulted him for retiring. So why gamble on another Games, five years later? He looked up at Colgate, the tall District Nine victor, and wondered if even he himself knew the answer.

"Walk me through your Games. I'd like to hear about your momentous journey, straight from the source." He glanced back at the Peacekeepers, this time nodding cordially to them. His brethren in White, fellow Citizens loyally serving the Capitol. Oh how he hated them. "I'm sure your guards will let us know if we're running short on time."