sugar & cyanide | fayre & industria {blitz}

Making friends is a stupid idea.

A very reckless, very foolish idea.

And Fayre knows this, she understands the consequences of having a bleeding heart in the Games — but after eighteen years of apathy, she's grown tired of the numbness. The person living in her memories isn't her, not anymore. Her kindness will come back to bite her, of that much she is certain, but she's willing to take the risk. If you enlist in a war because you want to feel, then you have to accept the pain. There has to be a balance.

Gunfire doesn't frighten her.

The actual process of starting a friendship, however, is a different story. She has no clue where to begin. She's often approached first, in the rare moment when one of the other tributes actually takes an interest in her. Her awkwardness usually scares them off, and if not that, her inability to display any useful skills finishes the job. The cafeteria, she realizes, seems like the easiest place to start.

She scans the room after stacking her tray with food, not bothering to hide her gluttony. If going on a journey of self-discovery means fighting to the death, then she's at least doing it on a full stomach. A few moments later, she notices the girl from Three sitting alone. She doesn't want to assume that a kid will be more welcoming than the others in the room, but it's difficult to avoid the thought.

Walking over, she offers a warm smile and hovers by the table. Sitting down without an invitation seems too forceful, so she introduces herself first. "I'm Fayre, from Ten. You're Industria, right?" The name is strange on her tongue, but she takes the time to pronounce it correctly. "Do you mind if I join you? Better than being alone." She winces, realizing how inconsiderate that sounds.

"Uh, and I'll share my pastries with you!"

'Great save, Fayre. Great save.'