Justice Building {Andy/Flynn}

The young boy had taken his hand gratefully, as if thrilled that Flynn was being so generous.  Flynn supposed it was him treating him almost like an equal and worthy of shaking hands like a grown man, or at least someone Flynn wanted to impress.  Flynn had watched other 'carers' scream and sob and fall to pieces on occasions when their darling children were lead away to their very likely doom and destruction.  He had spent most of the time trying to suppress a giddy grin of delight.  This was fantastic! It could make him one of the richest men in the district if the kid could pull it off.  Of course the odds were not exactly in his favour, but neither were they stacked utterly against him like most non-careers.  Flynn considered his training techniques, while incredibly brutal and painful, to be rigorous and to give in many ways a far wider selection of skills and attributes than he supposed many of the best career schools gave.

After all, his kids were taught from birth to fight and squabble over every single mouthful, every broken piece of garbage they called toys, over every scrap of the nanny and later his own attention.  He taught them to fight, and to cheat to win if they had to and to make every single advantage in their favour.  If the kids weren't devious, sneaky, cleaver, quick witted and resourceful, they just wouldn't survive the harsh environment in which they were raised.  

He taught them to fight dirty too - something most career training seemed to lack; how to throw sand or mud in your opponenets eyes so they couldn't see you before you attack, how to improvise weapons from just about anything, how to hide int he shadows and strike without warning, and often the most important skill; how to lie trick and deceivepeople until you could ruthlessly tear their heart out.  If Flynn hoped his children learned anything from him it was how to avoid getting too close to people - those weak and disgusting feelings other people seemed to experience got in the way he saw in the Games sometimes, as children wasted precious time and energy giving a stuff about the children they had just killed, or worse hesitating before taking a killing blow, caught up in the 'guilt'.

Flynn snorted to himself, guilt.  What a stupid, pointless emotion that was.  

Andy beamed, he seemed like he was ecstatic that Flynn was so proud of him.  He also looked like he hadn't expected Flynn to be like this at all.  Flynn decided not to say all the nasty threats he had been planning; Andy had heard them before anyway.  He told the children over and over that if they were in the Games and they dared to not do their best, not to run when they should run, or hide when they should hide, not only would they die in the Games, he would hurt the other children they seemed closest to so that as the child died in the Games from their own stupidity, they would know that back home Flynn was slowly and painfully skinning their best friend, punishing them even as they went to their grave.  

The boy seemed confident as he said, "Of course I will! Did you really expect any less of me?" 
Flynn decided to indulge the boy further, ruffling his hair and saying, "Of course not.  You're my very best, my smartest, my strongest fighter.  You go out  there, and you show the whole of Panem what Uncle Flynn taught you." He pointed a warning finger at the young lad, "But nothing stupid now.  DOn't let my praise go to your head and make you do something stupid.  Yuu wait the sixty seconds and then you run like hell.  I taught you how to hide, and to make do with what you have.  I also taught you to be hungry and to endure.  You use that. Hear me?"

(ooc word count 688)

"I will make sure I do what you taught me. I'll win this for you."

The words were exactly what Flynn hoped to here.  He felt his heart skip a beat he was so happy, thinking about all that wonderful money so close to his grasp.  He congratulated himself on being nice to Andy this day, and encouraging him rather than pulling him down with threats and bullying as he was originally thinking he should do.  The boy, if indeed he won this, needed to remember to come back to Flynn and share his winnings.  If he went off and saw the world a little, even as brutal as life seemed to be in the arena and the preparations beforehand, from what Flynn could tell from the broadcasts, at least, he might realise that Flynn had been incredibly tough on the kids in his care, and not exactly your standard doting guardian.  Flynn still stood by his decision, that sort of namby pamby parenting with love and affection only made the children weak.  Andy, with his deep knowledge that no one cared about  him would be much better suited to stab his allies in the back when he needed to than some soft ninny of a kid who had been loved.

Flynn was about to launch into instructions, reminding Andy the importance of keeping outside the line of a weapon weilded by an enemy, and to use poison to coat his weapons when the doors opened and two peacekeepers wearing full riot masks and body armour entered the room.
"Time to go," one of the men said, and the mask made him sound robotic rather than a human inside all that white, reinforced protective gear. 
Flynn tried to haggle, "Just a minute more, eh? Got to say goodbye to the lad and wish him good odds, and all that-"
The same peacekeeper cut Flynn off, taking Andy by the arm. "No.  Time is up, sir, he has to go now."
Flynn glared, not wanting Andy to see him show weakness in front of these men, but also not really wanting to get a rifle butt to the face to prove his point.  Sometimes charm and capitulation got you further than idiotic brute force, after all.  He stepped towards the door, waving in farewell to Andy, "I'm off.  No need to drag him out, I'll go.  Good luck lad.  I know you'll do me proud and we'll have a glass of whiskey, a cigar and go to a brothel together when you get back. Yeah?"  

(ooc word count 434)