make them look. | {larissa/elise}

If she was being honest, she expected... more. The Capitol was impressive, certainly: the air conditioning, the buildings, the noise. It was all just newer, shinier versions of things they had back in One, from what she'd seen. Pixel people instead of flesh, as if they'd ever needed that as an excuse not to go all out. She wondered, sitting at her own table in the cafeteria, if these people had ever seen footage of what really happens in those training centers back home. They'd certainly seen the products: the ones strong enough to make it out, to rise to the surface. But had they seen how many parents pushed their children too far? How many families became cattle farms, only allowing the best stock in the District the honor of eating their scraps and being taught their methods of survival? There were special deals made between the best training centers and some of the Capitol's own best cosmetic surgeons to make sure they all stayed looking perfectly camera ready- none of those pesky battlescars would do! The fact that it was flesh wasn't what was holding people back in District One. The fact that it was against the law to kill there was.

It was, she was finding, exactly as produced as she'd always thought it was. She begrudgingly took a bite of broccoli, eyes cutting between other tributes as she sized them up and assigned them threat ratings. Looks half-dead already, minimal risk. Pick-me girl so she'll die soon, minimal risk. Looks like she'd eat someone to survive, moderate risk. Can't be older than 14, minimum risk- her survey was cut short when a pair of eyes looked back at her. They belonged to the girl from 11, whom Larissa already recognized from her diligent un-career research upon arriving in the Capitol last night.

This was not only the first meal she'd gotten to have by herself, but really the first moment she'd gotten to gather her thoughts outside of the several different beds that had been assigned to her since the reaping. And now it was being interrupted, evidently, as the girl had wasted no time standing and making her way toward Larissa.

Lower district, smiley, blunt bangs? Maximum threat. She smirked sarcastically.

Larissa finished the piece of broccoli and brushed her hands off, leaning forward to rest her elbows on the table and her chin in her hands. She knew she had a habit of, well, being unlikable. Some would say, anyway. Most. But she also knew she wasn't interested in pretending anymore than she already had to- playing this role, being closed off like that? It was the best part of pretending to be a career. Still. End of the day, if lines were drawn in the sand, she knew she'd actually be standing on the same side as this girl. It made the layers of the performance that much more complicated, but alas.

"Need something?"

It didn't kill her to be polite, after all.