Stop, Listen, Learn {Kay}

Cause baby you're a firework, come on show 'em what you're worth
make 'em go, oh, oh, oh

Duchess still spent the mornings in school, which was a total waste of time for any number of reasons, primarily that she never paid any attention. She had, when she was younger, before she figured out that the authority in the classroom was artificial and had practically no bearing whatsoever on her Games training. If anything hearing the same lecture about fire making materials first at school and later at the training center only served to make her brain shut off, and then she'd have to ask how to do it all over again.

But school had one important perk - social time. She passed the hours writing notes, trading bits of gossip, and making googly-eyes at her friends. So maybe it wasn't all bad. Still, it would've been better to spend more time training, even though she woke up hours before dawn to get in her near-daily run, and hit the center as soon as the last bell rang. It could not come soon enough today. She fidgeted in her chair, ran the eraser of her pencil along the edge of her desk as she hoarded notes in her pocket. With the ding, Duchess was out of her chair and flying through the hallways, shouting goodbyes and teasing good riddance as she jogged away from the walls into the winter sunlight.

The fur trim of her coat tickled her chin and she sunk into the feeling, grabbing the flaps at the coat, burying her face into the fluffy stuff. She slowed as she passed the last gate of school, considered briefly turning back to grab a snack. She'd been so blasted hungry lately, likely because Kobaloi had stopped going easy on her (not that it had ever felt easy at all). It was as though her stomach was perpetually empty, no matter how much protein powder she shoved down her throat.

It could be a problem in a barren arena, to be hungry constantly with food nowhere in sight. She'd brought up that point, rather cleverly, but her aunt would have none of it. If Duchess starved to death, the Grants would never hear the end of it. It was a pickle, one that consumed her thoughts as she walked the few blocks to the Detention Center.

And then there he was, one of the older Careers who took himself way too seriously. Carver Predd. Duchess kept a database of all the active Careers in her district, because she liked people, and because she preferred to know her competition. Shoving her hands into her jacket's pockets, Duchess smiled, the soft sort that didn't show too many teeth. "Getting a head start on your homework, Predd?" She asked, and maybe it was a bit cheeky considering they'd barely ever spoken, but that was Duchess in a nutshell.

Cause baby you're a firework, come on show 'em what you're worth
make 'em go, oh, oh, oh

And it was suddenly quite apparent that Duchess would need to bring her A game if she wanted to befriend Carver. She hadn't quite made up her mind on that front, but as with anyone, she definitely wanted Predd to like her. It was a struggle to keep the smirk off her face and in her back pocket, but she managed, the consummate actress. It was always more fun to talk to someone who made it a challenge; she was sick of the airheads floating around school, mostly the non-Careers. Honestly what was the point of a conversation if you didn't learn something about the other person, or about yourself?

And Duchess loved learning new things about herself.

She turned one hand through her styled blonde locks, pushed the weight of her hair over her jacketed shoulder as she spoke. It was almost too much that he asked her to be quick; wasn't that exactly her reputation? "On my way to the center, 'course. Was that fast enough for you, or should I try again?" And it might've been rude or overstepping, if it had been said by someone else, but Duchess maintained that girly smile, tracked his gaze with her bright eyes.

Cause baby you're a firework, come on show 'em what you're worth
make 'em go, oh, oh, oh

He looked down and away - anywhere but her, and that made Duchess feel bold. She wasn't popular just by chance - she worked hard to have everyone in school stare at her, gawk at her, gossip about the last time she got naked, or last fictitious hookup. She didn't want to fade into the shadows, to have eyes slip from her. And it was odd because she'd never really noticed Predd, but now that she was talking to him, Duchess decided that she actually wanted his gaze upon her, those intense dark eyes that tried to mask his intelligence (which wasn't working), and his stilted speech.

Where had that come from? Did it help him? Would it help her, in a fight? It would certainly have caught her off guard, if they'd been sparring. She pondered the use of it as Predd offered himself up as her escort. Delighted, Duchess could not contain herself - she reached out and brushed his elbow, her smile widening to dimple her cheeks. "Fabulous. I hate walking by myself."

Her gaze brushed his journal, but it was closed tight, and she doubted any contest of strength would lead to victory on that path. No, if she wanted to know what Carver Predd wrote about, she'd have to tease it out him. Maybe she could bet him for it - and there were certainly places and things Carver would not go to that Duchess would. She was pretty sure he knew that already, though, so she'd have to tread carefully.

Duchess took the lead, turning to the center and tucking her elbows by her side to ward off the chill. "No," she chuckled. "Not even a little. So Carver, you're a bit of a mystery," she mused, putting her cards out on the table. "Don't suppose you'd be interested in swapping secrets, hmm?"

Cause baby you're a firework, come on show 'em what you're worth
make 'em go, oh, oh, oh

It was quiet walking with Carver, and the silence was not something Duchess enjoyed. It soaked up hours of her days, between walking to and from school alone most of the time, to her big empty house, to her training time with Kobaloi. Her aunt hated it when Duchess chattered, and usually punished her for it, which was the only reason Duchess had ever learned to shut up. The threat of another 400 meter sprint was just too much most days, although the sting of silence was a burden. Humans had clearly been built to communicate - they had all these lovely muscles and organs arranged in such a useful way. Of course Duchess used said body bits to do things other than talk as well...

Which got her thinking about Carver. He was reasonably good looking. Dashing, she decided. But oh, the thinking, and the brooding, and the silence. She couldn't handle that for very long. Not that she needed to necessarily; according to her plan for the Games, Duchess had to remain unattached at all times. Not just appear unattached - truly never date anyone. It was a good plan, and a great strategy, except that it left her heart locked under a chastity belt of sorts.

She'd grown a little more used to it, matured to the point where she could see the light at the end of the tunnel. It would only be one more Reaping for her, and then she could love anyone she wished... and have no idea what to do with her life. It was an awful trade-off. For now, though, she could be happy looking forward to that day in summer, and playing tonsil hockey with whomever happened across her path.

Yes, Carver was easy on the eyes, but she didn't even have a clue where to start working on opening him up. She wondered idly if he took hormones to suppress those teenage urges when he finally broke her train of thought. "Fair question. I do like to live on the center stage." And for the first time that afternoon, Duchess really looked at Carver. Not at his dark hair and fair skin, nor his intense eyes, but looked to judge. Would this man keep her secret long enough for it not to matter? Would he be jealous of it, and keep it because he liked to collect secrets? Or would he trade it for something better.

Duchess blinked and shivered. "I changed my mind. I don't want to play that game."