just stare down the barrel // { finley + savvy }

This whole thing is sort of boring. Not that whatever she'd be up to in District Nine would be much more interesting. What was today, Thursday? Saturday? She'd probably spend the morning in front of the furnace making bottles, blow and blow and burn the house down just for something to do. Apart from the heat on her face, she doesn't miss blowing glass at all.

She could talk to the supervising trainers and learn some skill, she supposes — complex knots for snares, which leaves will fill her and which will kill her, how to hurl a javelin without throwing out her shoulder. Or she could talk to the tributes and learn something more valuable. Common sense says that everyone here is an enemy and Savvy doesn't necessarily dispute that. But it puts everyone else on her level, implies that they'll be able to best an immortal. Best of luck to them.

She pulls a snack from her pocket, a giant fig pilfered from the dining hall during breakfast, and runs her thumb over the smooth striated surface. Biting into the fig, skin and all, Savior sidles up to the girl from Four. She swallows the fruit and licks the lingering seeds from her teeth before she speaks. "First time facing death?" Her lips smile; her eyes do not. "I'm savvy."