bull in bronze :: D4m interview

The crowd is something to get used to, different in small ways to her usual audience, but not all that much. With a little over three decades in the spotlight, Hendrix is used to declarations of adoration shouted at the stage and she takes them graciously, having seen the way a crowd could turn on a less grateful host. Like locusts, they would leave her picked clean.

She waves and smiles, hand raised regally as the District Four female makes her way off of the stage. She's interviewed many before of course, but until now it's been rare for her to speak with anyone from the districts. In her youth, the Games never appealed to her much and perhaps that's one of the reasons she'd never pursued the task of interviewing tributes until now. Hendrix had always left that to her colleagues, Caesar and of course, the ravishing Sardonyx Crowe.

If Caesar hadn't asked her for this favour, she might never have found herself on this particular stage, perhaps she secretly believed it all to be a little beneath her. Still, today she'd arrived with an open mind and so far, Miss Summers had been interesting enough. She could only hope that the District Four Male wouldn't disappoint.

His reaping had been interesting enough, a surprise volunteer from the Morrison line, any career family would be proud of that moment. The dog was a surprise, the fact that they let it come this far even more so. Hendrix is uncertain if the Capitol is simply softening or if they just no longer care. As long as twenty-three children die, the rule can always bend for the drama of it all.

As the tribute's name is called, Anarchy sees out onto the stage, a proud smile on his lips, his hands graciously to his chest. That dog, unnamed as of yet, waddles through the curtain behind him wearing coordinating clothes. The crowd, already pleased to see Nixie, recognizes a star when they see one. People scream out his name, teen girls wave signs above their heads madly and when hendrix looks past the blinding stage lights into the front row, she sees a few young men sobbing and screaming.

Interesting effect.

Anarchy approaches Hendrix and blows her a kiss so she smiles in return, a slow and gentle process. It's hard to look at a joyful face like that in all of this sorrow and not smile back.

He holds out a little black box and while Hendrix usually has a rule of never accepting anything from an interviewee due to the nature and circumstance of her usual fair, Anarchy is charming and seemingly harmless. She takes it carefully and places it on the cushion behind her to look at later.

He's already piqued her interest by this move alone, a boy who knows his manners, who knows his charm can go far in the training centre, farther still beneath the dome. She wonders how much of this is calculated. When he waves at the crowd again and the dog sits obediently at his feet, she studies him carefully.

Hendrix takes her time with beginning. The crowd still roars as he sits and places the guitar in his lap and she does little to silence them. There's a shyness to him, something hard to spot through the television, a core of something cold and empty.

There so often is with boys like him.

"Anarchy, 'just call me Arc' Mer," she says, referencing his volunteer moment. "How lovely of you to come see us." The crowd roars again in agreement and Hendrix turns to look at them, a knowing smile on her face as she waits for them to quiet down.

"Now, now," she says, teasing, "We'll run out of time before we can get to know them if you lot don't keep quiet!" They laugh and go quiet and in that time, Hendrix busies herself with holding a hand out for the dog to sniff. By the way its ears are pulled back, she knows that it isn't quite used to this much stimulation.

If the dog goes everywhere with the boy, he can't be either.

The gift, the guitar and the dog are all in place for Hendrix to question them, three different shields brought by the boy from Four. If all of those fail him, Hendrix is sure that he's suspecting questions about Annie, but that's not why she's here.

"Now Arc," she begins, "With a Victor for a cousin and a musical talent–" she gestures at the guitar—"I hope, not to mention, rather good looks, your future is set up already for fame and fortune so tell us why." Hendrix says calmly, leaning forward slightly, all of her focus trained on him, "Why are you here?"

"Tell us," she says, tone warm but firm, "What brought you to this moment?"

She waits for him to lie, in fact, as she stares at him, Hendrix silently dares him to do so. With years of interviews under her belt, she has a way of getting what she wants out of them.