Can't we all just get along? [Muff/Cam/Flyss]

For what had seemed like an eternity, I felt my food to be a better thing to stare at over the people who were neck-to-neck with me in the race for our lives- after all, sometimes it's better to let things be rather than linger on the fact that one of them could kill me in my sleep. 

Every-so-often I would push the food on my plate around, eyes locked on the trail left behind by the juices and oils and greases, all of which my body failed to grow accustomed to and all of which made my stomach churn at the mere waft that happened to reach my nose- I wasn't hungry, to be simply put, but I knew that within a few days, this food that sat uneaten before me would be an utter luxury to the starving eye.

Despite my attempts to sink as far back into my chair as possible, though, some boy across the table from me- a resident of district nine, as told my the clothing he wore across his chest- decided that it was in his place to start converstion, all of which- not to his knowledge- I would be unable to return.

"Neptune, right? District 12. How's the food?" When he spoke, I glanced up at his face briefly, my eyes saying nil to his cause, before blinking once and returning my vision back unto where it had been stationed beforehand. I wasn't in the mood to sign, let alone 'talk' and I sure as hell wasn't going to waste the energy of mouthing words to some kid I didn't even know the name of. If I came off as an asshole in the process, so be it- sometimes that's the price you have to pay for the presence of comfort when there is none.

With a soft sigh- one of the few sounds I could still make- I set my fork back down onto my plate and pushed it away from me. I didn't quite wish to get up yet, but at the same time, I didn't quite wish to remain here, so I simply existed, and by all means, that was alright with me. 

However, just as I began to zone off to reminisce about home or whatever topics, albeit depressing, that came to mind, I heard his voice again, this time seeming a bit more audible. 

"Can you believe these people actually have all this food? I would kill again to have this much." With a short exhale of air through my nose, I sat up curtly to these words, placing one elbow on the table and the other in the air, preparing to sign something that he certainly didn't deserve but that came out despite, my attitude and current mood influencing my kindness in a way that he wouldn't understand, but could still probably get the jist of.

No, actually, I can't believe how much god-damn food they have because I wouldn't believe anything that came from these shit-bags, even if they put it on a stick and shoved it up my ass. 

This was harsh, I must admit, and I got a few raised brows from an avox or two that stood off to the side of the room, probably able to comprehend a word or two of what I said. But it was late, and I was tired, and in the midst of my monologue, I must have hit the table because when I looked over and to the girl that was sitting off to the side of me, her plate full of food had turned into a sweater and by all definition, did she not seem very happy about it. 

I might be pissed, but compared to this girl, my anger is nothing. 

The first thing my mind fully comes to after I knock the plate over is the girl from one screaming at me and her district partner- a man with eyes far too aged for his skull- backing her up with half-moon eyelids and an agitated boredom lacing his words like poison. 

Of course, though, I had become immune to talk as deadly as this.

Pushing myself off of my chair with one hand, I used my other to rub my left eye, a softened sigh escaping my lips as I moved to defend myself to the best of my ability; however, before I could speak- or moreso sign- I was interrupted by the kid who sat before me, his lips moving so kindly to defend my case as if it were his own. 

"He's sorry! It wasn't his fault." 

"It was an accident and obviously, my mistake."

"Forgive me."

Those words were the only ones I heard clearly, but oh did they hold a powerful sting when they came plowing down, the voice behind them possessing an authenticity that was almost startling. 

Why was this boy who I had only just met defending me so aggressively, let alone taking the blame? But I was frozen- useless- and he was not, so I presumed that it only made sense to the eye of the beholder and ignored it, my vision blurring until he had already left, until I was ready to thank him for his incredibly thoughtful words.

And I sighed because I wasn't exactly sure where he had run off to. 

There goes my only friend in this damned place, I concluded with a silent wince, not even acknowledging the terminology I had used; friends- is that what we were now? Surely, he had said that, but did he really mean it? Shaking the needless thoughts out of my head, I turned to the people who still sat beside me, my facial features softening to an apologetic glance and before I knew it, I was attempting to speak for myself, fingers resuming their dance through the air, albeit smaller movements this time around. 

I'm extremely sorry- please forgive me. 

But I knew they couldn't hear me- that wasn't the problem. The problem was that I was becoming even more timid than before, and that was utterly unacceptable.