d1m aston maybach | interview

Aston Maybach.

A thumping heart is always an indicator of a good workout. Sweating palms and a splashed brow. Aching muscles that have been pushed beyond their limits. Then there is a breathlessness, the perfect timer of a building stamina. The last time Aston ran was the morning of the reaping, then why have these symptoms been washing over him since the second his name was called? Even now as he is sat face to face with Harlan Godfrey. Each symptom is an alarm for the danger that is to come. Another decision that has been made for him without a single word from himself. Perhaps this interview is a chance for him to release the rotting thoughts that have impaired his mind the past two days.

"I'm reading in your file that you're reported to be a good runner, is that right?" Aston’s eyes are set on Harlan’s, his fingers fiddle with the hem of the shirt that has untucked from his trousers. He is aware of the silent silhouettes that are watching, just one glance when he was first escorted onto the stage. ”I think so. I don’t think I am the best, but I am good enough.” His record says otherwise, there is a reason Zak is so hard on him. His prized possession, a worthy investment that always pays off. Perhaps selling himself short in a place like this is not the best strategy. Harlan’s next question is the only hint of a plan that has been shared with him.

"And is that your plan for the Games: to be the fastest every time? Is that often a strategy you use?" Aston is so used to being handed a set of instructions. How to win races. How to make the next batch of body sprays. Nobody has handed him a piece of paper on how to not die in the Hunger Games. ”Being the fastest is just a part of it. I am not a sprinter; I need to preserve my energy. Not burnout quickly. Be tactful of my other competitors, know their strengths and weaknesses. Know the best route to take on the track. Know whose pace I should keep up with,” Aston recites all the same words that Zak drills into him before every competition. ”There is a lot to winning a race. Just the same as winning the Hunger Games. If you think I can do all that to survive this, I will.”

Then the interview swings the same way as the last conversation he had with his brother. The benefits to all of this. "So you enjoy staying in shape, and you know your capabilities, and you smell nice. Would you say you're more interested in being healthy, or being desirable?" Aston must have become nose blind to the strong spicy lavender aroma he sprayed on himself the morning before the reaping. It just proves how well made his products are. ”What you can smell was made by myself and my family. We make perfumes and deodorants, I need to use a lot, with all of the running…” Aston says, he is not the type to gloat but his parents were always proud of the medals he brought home before the running club got taken over. The only medal he can show off right now is his body, the prize he has worked so hard on. Aston pulls up one of his trouser legs, showing off the hardened muscles. ”I like to keep healthy, running doesn’t just help with physical health but mental too. If it makes me look desirable then I guess that is just an added bonus.” Aston drops the trouser leg and sinks back into his chair. The sweat on his palms becoming so irritable.

"Pardon my forwardness, but I wonder: Are you willing to do anything it takes to survive?" He will do anything to win his races, to please Zak and not let any of the gamblers down who has parted ways with their money onto his name. He will do anything to survive, for himself and the family that has helped him become who he is. ”Yes. I think so. I hope so. I can’t just throw myself away, I am the person I am today because of a lot of people. I can’t let any of them down,” Aston looks down at his moist palms. They will soon be covered in more substance that just his on sweat. ”I doubt myself now but I think I can do it. I will.” He could open up more to Harlan, this is the longest conversation he has had since the train journey. But this is not the right person. Not the right time. He just needs someone to tell him what to do.

"Any parting words?"

”I errr, no. I think I am done here.”