Choose Another Way // [Leon/Glamour]

None of us are promised to see tomorrow, and what we do is ours to choose
Forget about the sunrise, fight the sleep in your eyes

Glamour shook out his lacy sleeves, trying to loose the city's pollution. The edges had greyed over the hours-long Victor Presentation Ceremony. There hadn't been nearly enough alcohol to compensate for the presentation's length. In fact, there hadn't been any, except for the bloody mary's with breakfast. They had made his contribution to the event lively, but then the vodka wound its way through his overworked liver, and he was left with Cadence Fortissimo for entertainment.

What a dull morning it had turned out to be. If not for the flourish of Leon's perfect hair, it would have been a total loss. For the few minutes the victor stood front and center, Glamour allowed himself the luxury of forgetting. He basked in the applause, sharing the spotlight with the boy, Cadence, and the President. It was perfect, everything he wanted: total adoration over his stunning success. It had been so long since any Gamemaker had produced a District Four victor. His name would be immortalized.

Of course it could have just as easily been stricken from the records entirely.

Glamour waited until they were in the belly of the Training Center. He busied himself with his sleeves, working the grime out of the ivory cotton. He'd walked ahead of the victor, both of them surrounded by Peacekeepers. That Leon Krigel's escort was double in size that of Colgate O'Leary's made sense to Glamour. That Glamour could not find the airlift operator once the airship returned from the arena wasn't surprising; presumably Snow had dealt with the man, who hesitated when Leon reached for his weapon. Everyone had seen that part, the feed delay notwithstanding. It was almost as if the boy knew exactly how long he had to rake the blade against his throat.

It still made Glamour shiver, days later. He'd been barred from seeing Leon before the presentation ceremony. He assumed it was punishment for interrogating Colgate. Still, he would have liked to have seen the fair-haired victor under the point of someone else's knife, right where he belonged.

Right where he would remain, for the rest of his days.

Glamour came to a halt, his ivory boots squeaking on the tiled floor. It had a pleasant symmetry, this conversation, so like the one he had a year ago. And what was it about recent victors and their names? Couldn't they stick with one so as to be less confusing? But no, it was no longer his job to maintain Leon's public image especially as he had recently taken over that post for Peridot Myler. If he wanted to forget whoever Blaise Krigel was, that worked for Glamour, so long as he remembered Leon Krigel, the Victor.

"Well that was dreadfully boring, don't you think? I expect the Victory Tour will be more entertaining for you," he began, flourishing his arms so that the darkened-sleeves fluttered. He winked at one of the Peacekeepers, darting around him so as to be right next to Leon. "We're on our way to the trains now. I suspect you already knew that. But did you know - I heard the most curious thing. You're to have receptions in every district, of course, but the one in District Four will be decadent. Everyone is just so pleased to have their first Victor in who-can-remember how long. And you know who will be there, don't you? Why, the Baitwells, of course! I've heard, and this is just between you and I, that they've planned their own celebration for you. Something sharp and quick."

Glamour waggled his indigo-dyed eyebrows at Leon, just before slipping his arm around his. "That's what you wanted, wasn't it?" He whispered, drawing in the scent of Leon, a strange mixture of iodine and the faraway sea. "Don't worry though. The Baitwells never get what they want, not so long as you're in their way."