the brothers {kinkade} but one by half :: kay

You see him, smiling, the fame glinting brighter and brighter until it's a gleaming whiteness that blinds everyone to the truth. He hates everyone single person that is not himself. And that's a large number of people which he would not care for a single second if they disappeared. Except maybe his victors. The ones that bought him his fame. He wouldn't dare let those disappear, no. Wouldn't want his fame to die down more, only for it to grow. And the announcement that his face shouts louder than than any microphone can. Loud enough it deafens you into oblivion.

GLAMOUR KINKADE, GAMEMAKER OF THE SEVENTY FIRST HUNGER GAMES!

You want to follow him, to knock him off his stupor pedestal of fame that he built below his feet. Bring him back to the real world. The world in which he came from. The place where money was just enough to buy food for a week, not wondering if you want 30 bottles or 40 bottles of champagne. Being a person, not a jumped up piece of shit fashionista with money to splash around like a kid in a shallow puddle in the mud. And you wait until he's alone, alcohol not being part of his system. And you take your chance. "Glamour, we need to talk. After all, it's what brothers do, talk. Don't carry on walking like you never heard me either, those ears likely have been modified so you hear what anyone whispers across the room." All you want do is talk, and isn't that something that Glamour is known for?