porcelain {raquel/ree}

It's not hard to tell that everyone is teaming up before the games have even begun. Most of them have gotten together in cliques of three or four, except for that Za-Za girl whose real name I can't remember and whose nickname I despise. But what else am I supposed to call her?

I think I've found myself my own group. They're alright, except I still don't know much about them. I've talked to the members outside my alliance more than I've talked to the ones inside, and I'm not sure that's a good thing. But hey, keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?

I haven't taken the time to really asses their skills up until this point. Of course now, I think I'm regretting the decision to even investigate. I've found myself a place within the blades station, a spot that's become familiar to me over the last day or two, fingering the array of knives they have laid out on the table. I run my thumb along the edge of each blade, testing their sharpness. But my focus is more on Ree than anything else.

My guess is that he' a druggie, not too much of a surprise coming from Three. But he's friendly enough. Possibly fake, but still friendly. All butterflies and rainbows and apparently useless when it comes to weaponry. But then doesn't mean he'll be useless in every aspect.

Something clatters to the floor and I don't have to look up to guess what it is.

"Raquel."

That's my name, don't wear it out.

"Yeah, in case you didn't notice, I suck."

Doesn't take a genius to figure that out.

His knife has landed near my feet, a couple inches to the left and I'm thanking God it didn't wedge itself into my toes. I bend down, swiping it off the ground.

"Well, here's your first problem." I state flatly, lifting it up by the grip between my thumb and forefinger. "This is a dagger, not a throwing knife." I wrap all four of my fingers tightly around the handle, bring it down hard so it embeds itself into the table. My fingers slip down and take hold of a different knife. "This is what you're looking for."

It's flat, all metal and no grip, beautifully aerodynamic. Of course, he probably wouldn't appreciate that.

I wrap my hand around the back, pull it over my head, then release with ease and send it flying into the target some distance away. A solid thunk echoes throughout the training center.

"You good at anything else, city boy?"