little touch of friendship //with Anzie

One thing Rafe doesn't like about the beach is the sea.

Actually all of what Rafe doesn't like about the beach is the sea. He's fine with pretty much everything else (or at least, he can't think of anything that he doesn't like at the moment).

But Rafe really doesn't like the sea. Not even when he's standing at the edge of the tide wondering if he should at least try practice swimming so he doesn't make a fool of himself the next time he's forced to before a bunch of people. Not even when the sea is gently lapping at his feet like an adoring domesticated kitten. (He knows the moment he walks into it, it turns into a muttation, a jaguar, a cougar - one of those scary, scary creatures whose claws are long enough to tear out his heart. The sea's a fickle being, and he hates it.) Or maybe Rafe should pretend to be doing something other than skipping swim classes in school when there is school. Which, of course, would mean his time now could be spent plotting and planning to the best of his ability.

Swimming... or plotting? Rafe wriggles his toes in the sand, chewing on his lip as he thinks. Swimming will be a long-term thing (if only he gets over his unusual fear of water). Swimming might even save his life some day, be it in the games or in just his future (that will most definitely consist of swimming and catching fishes).

But plotting means he doesn't have to swim. Right?

Swimming is overrated, anyway, Rafe tries to convince his more obedient side. He rocks back on his heels. His lower lip is fast becoming bloody from chewing on it. But what if you need it in the future? the obedient side demands. And - as usual - the internal debate descends quickly into a childish squabble, while Rafe is left swaying back and forth until-

He stops himself before he tips into the water.

The expanse of blue beckons with its sparkling waves and shimmering beauty - much like a bird, he thinks, like freedom he doesn't have - but he imagines a much more sinister intent emanating from it. He imagines monsters, muttations lurking below, just waiting to snap him up. He imagines invisible hands from those previously dead latching onto his ankles and dragging him down, down, down below.

Rafe shudders. I think I did enough today. He steps back hurriedly from the sea and - pausing only to scoop up his shoes - races for civilisation.

The district isn't what Rafe will consider large. He's seen pictures of the Capitol - that is large. Tall buildings where District 4 has stunted huts - much, Rafe thinks, like me and my peers. He'll be the District 4 to their Capitol. The 12 to their 1. The mockingjay to their jabberjay. The-

A girl's voice snaps him out of his comparisons. Before he can even turn around, she's in his face (how did she even get there so fast?) and shoving a piece of paper in his face. Rafe jerks back, startled and a little panicked - what does she want with him? "Do you know this address? Oh, I'm Titanic Vespoli, by the way," she adds as though an afterthought.

Rafe stares at her, blinking rapidly, unsure how to respond. "Um. Hi." Is he supposed to give his name? What if she's just going to make fun of him after he helps? He holds back. "I... I think it's somewhere over there?" Rafe points vaguely into a wall nearby. "I don't know... it might be near where I live." That's probably a bad thing to say if she's a potential tormentor... Great job, Rafe, you might as well hand them all your personal details while you're at it.

Rafe thinks that this girl is actually one of his tormentors - only he doesn't recognize her. He also thinks that she's very rude, but only after the smoke from the girl's cigarette gets deliberately blown in his face. Rafe takes a subconscious step away, wrinkling his nose just a little as he - briefly - looks her over.

He really can't recognize her.

Brown hair, elfin face... She's quite pretty and a little pushy (and, privately, a little bit arrogant, but he won't say that to anyone's face; why make more enemies when everyone already is his enemy?), and he's quite sure he should know her but he really doesn't. The way she regards him is as though she expects him to know her, the way Rafe thinks queens might expect her subjects to know and bow down to her. (Rafe briefly entertains the idea that she's a famous Capitolite, but what would a Capitolite do in District 4? Nothing.)

At the very least, the name Vespoli is ringing a dim bell in his head. I should probably know the name.

"Want one... um, what is your name?"

Oh.

He's beginning to wonder if there's something written on his face in invisible ink that says, 'Hey, over here, pick me, make me feel highly uncomfortable!' Honestly he wouldn't be surprised if there is, considering the number of times this happens to him in his life. Rafe shifts back just a little, turning his head a little to the side in a weak attempt to protect himself (he can't actually hug himself right now because one, if anyone sees him like that they'd laugh at him and two, she's kind of holding his hand). One hand crosses over his chest defensively as he gives her a nervous look.

Rafe kind of really hopes she gets sick of his lack of desire to respond to her interactions, whatever they mean, and move on, but the rate his luck is going it's probably not going to happen. I might as well resign myself to this. He exhales slowly and is about to speak when she cuts across him, "I will not go alone, I want you to come with me." Her face changed abruptly into one not unlike the look on his little sister's face when she really wants something (and he usually can't get it for her - like the time she really wanted to marry one of the previous Victors, That was funny ha ha, actually it really wasn't - but she does it anyway). "Oh please come with me - it would be fun, and besides, I'm great company. Please?"

He can't tell if she's great company or not. She might be but only to certain kinds of people. Like people who aren't him; he's beginning to be genuinely terrified of this girl or so he thinks. How does anyone tell anyone no, though? Rafe thinks in something like a panic in his head. It's like having his morals tested right there - does he do what he wants to do and run away or does he let himself be dragged along after this girl who may or may not be taking him to be bullied just a little bit more? Which side of his conscience is stronger?

While he's busy having an existential crisis, Titanic presses a kiss to his cheek.

He stares at her in shock. What... what was that? An embarrassed flush rises to his cheeks and Rafe notices, very awkwardly, that they're actually just standing there, looking as though they're holding hands when he doesn't actually know what's going on.

Does... does she like me? Even the thought itself causes a higher level of embarrassment to reveal itself, and Rafe really, really doesn't know what to do. Someone liking him? It's all lies. It's a mind-blowing concept to Rafe, really, because nobody he's ever spoken to has ever expressed interest of that sort in him. (Too bad it was a girl, though. Rafe silences that part of himself very quickly.)

Clearing his throat he tries to think of something to say. "I... um." Rafe glances at their hands and then around. His eyes feel too large, not unlike they're going to pop out of his head. Blinking rapidly he tries to calm himself down a little bit to think through his choices properly. "I... I'm not... interested in... girls." He can't believe he just told her that. She's probably going to tell the others and then... Misery settles over his shoulders and he drops his head, shame flooding through him like a tidal wave. He couldn't have been normal in any way at all, could he?

The nonchalant reply shocks him as much as it relieves him. She doesn't care. Unless she's trying to lure him into a trap. I need to stop being so paranoid,