cheynes and whips excite me {frankel blitz}

How boring it is, this training centre is more or less a replica of the one at home for Ronnie, just as many people filling it up. With it being the Capitol of all places, he at least thought it would be a little different. One can only withstand so many minutes of projectile practice. For a few minutes, he has hovered at different stations, holding in the laughter as he observes the lower District tributes fail miserably at the apparatus that they are supposedly training on. Although his observations have been cut short on some occasions, ”Go away! “ “If you think you are any better with that smile on your face, then do it yourself.”

For the first time, he has both halves of his clothes on, his escort has been very adamant about him remembering to wear every item of clothing, since stepping into the training centre half-naked the last time. He really does not see the trouble in it.

He sits up on the nets in the rafters, accompanied by a small flask of hard liquor, smuggled from the District Four headquarters. He does get searched when stepping in here but obviously they don’t look in every crevasse. Up here he has a better view of observing; maybe he can pinpoint the weaknesses of the many, or mainly just get entertainment from their failures.

So many familiar names reside alongside him on the tribute list. Rivals, laughing stock, celebrities, they would be the words of his brother but to him, to him they aren’t special really. They are just unfortunate to have had relatives in the past games. Oh how ’unfortunate’ it was, for Henrietta to be reaped three years ago.

Huddling onto the flask, it attention is diverted to a female who joins him up in the clouds. ”Boo!”