But Whips & Chains Excite Me {Finn, Capitolites?

So the Reapings were today. Reaping Day was the most stressful day of the Games for Finn. It was the day full of worry, and anticipation. Sure, there was the question of whether he'd get one of the better seats in the square, or how long he'd have to wait before the program actually started. But more than that, Finn was nervous about the tributes. He was paid to paint the Games, more than any other subject. What if the tributes weren't aesthetically pleasing? Which one of them would be the victor? Which of the twenty-four children destined to appear on the screen today would he have to paint over and over again after they'd eliminated all their opponents?

So the Reaping was a time of anxiety for Finn. However, despite all his worries, it was also one of his favorite parts of the Games. Because it was here, in this moment, that he would meet all the tributes. All the contestants that would become an integral part of his life until the next Reaping would be introduced to him today.

That's why Finn had woken up much earlier than usual. He had wanted one of the seats closest to the stage, but obviously most of the city had similar thoughts. Of course. Of course his fellow citizens would pick today to actually be proactive and wake up before the afternoon. He shook his head slowly as he took a spot near the middle of the common viewing area. Maybe it wasn't the best spot, but hey, at least it wasn't the very back.

He leaned back in his chair, closed his eyes, and let the sun beat down on his exposed skin. The weather in the Capitol was, to some extent, climate controlled, and the heat felt much more warming and safe than stifling.

Finn had been in that position for a few minutes when someone interrupted him. He cracked an eye open and found himself looking up at a man around his age. Finn blinked a few times at the dazzling, charismatic smile above his face.

Was the seat next to him even empty? Well, at any rate, it wasn't taken. He'd cut himself off from his parents a couple years ago, and none of his friends shared enough passion for the Games to wake up with him. They would all be watching the big event from the comfort of their own homes.

"No, it's not. You can sit here, if you'd like." Finn kept quiet for a couple seconds, then realized it was probably rude not to introduce himself.

"I'm Finn Calloway, by the way. Artist."

Aspiring television personality. Finn rolled the other man's introduction around in his head. It sounded nice. Very fancy. Very Capitol. But the rest of Maverick, well, wasn't. Very Capitol, anyway. Everything about him looked so natural it was unnatural. It made Finn, in his blue silk shirt and dark dress pants that complemented magenta eyes and hair streaks, feel like he stood out. Even among the Capitolites. Not that Finn minded much, of course. He enjoyed standing out, usually. It was the eyes, he decided. They were so, so green. Nothing too bright or ostentatious. Just... green. And a very nice green. Well, if that appearance suited him, then to each his own.

Maverick took his place in the empty seat, and Finn leaned against the back of his own, resting his left leg on his right. Maverick addressed a question towards him, and he had to think a minute. His medium was whatever the hell he felt like. But he supposed paint pretty much covered it.

"I'm a painter, to be specific. I've dabbled in sculpting and clothing design, but paint is my love. I like to paint tributes, especially."

He checked his watch for the time, to see how close the Reapings were. He sighed. Not soon enough. The waiting was murder.

"Pretty suspenseful, waiting for my new art subjects to be chosen. But it's also the best day of the year."


He leaned back even further into his chair, if that was possible. The screen in the square was playing recaps from past games. Finn felt a flutter of emotion at each scene, especially ones he had captured with the brush. Special attention was given to Topaz, the victor not from District 12 these past few years. For a glorious moment, it seemed she had broken the streak. Then that girl had thrown the finals last year, and there was another District 12 victor. Finn really hoped someone not missing any limbs won this year. It was easier to paint them in a flattering light for his customers.

He turned back to his companion, feeling compelled by an odd mix of curiosity, boredom, and politeness to continue the conversation.

"So tell me, televison personality," Finn said. "What kind of television are you interested in?"