blood and thunder: {goat}

To her surprise, the other girl had something to say. Katrina could respect that. It took guts. But nobody dissed her boat. Katrina chuckled darkly and stalked over to the other girl. As she approached, she realized she was a good deal taller than her. At least six inches. Her lips curled in savage amusement. Perhaps she’d seen this girl around one of the training centers. She looked familiar enough, if a bit plain. The kind of career that Panem would forget about if they saw her onscreen.

“I think I’m looking at someone whose ass I need to kick,’ she replied with an evil grin. “And you’re goddam right I’m pissy about my boat. You have any idea how long it took me to save up for it?!” She glanced at the hole again and frowned before noticing a seashell in the other girl’s hand. Interesting. Lame. But interesting. Katrina flipped her hair and crossed her arms, adopting a very bored tone of voice. “I wouldn’t expect a little girl like you to understand.”

If there was one thing Katrina prided herself on, it was her ability to get under people’s skin. And if this trollop persisted in mouthing off, she was going to find herself face down in the surf. Never talk shit if you couldn’t back it up. It was a good rule to live by, and Katrina could always back it up, as several other careers had found out the hard way. Except for Zed. But he was different. The kind you could crack open a few beers with. Missy in front of her was the kind who needed her head cracked.

If there was a god or goddess of annoying things, they must have had it out of her, Katrina thought. They’d cursed her with this girls presence, after having someone damage her little boat. What a prissy career, badgering her amount her problems and then being so flippant when she got an answer.

The disrespect. 

The disrespect increased every time the brunette opened her mouth. Talking like she had Katrina all figured out. Unbelievable. Responsibilities. Who the hell did she think she was? Strolling down the beach and picking up seashells but she had the audacity to say that Katrina was being useless? Wasting her time?

“You’re one to talk, little miss beachcomber,” Katrina retorted, staring pointedly at where she’d pocketed the shell. “Responsibility? Yeah, it’s called working a shitty job to take care of my younger sisters, saving up for my own boat to relax and fucking up bitches who think they know me.” She said through clenched teeth. The shorty in front of her was really testing her patience. Katrina leaned down and smiled a feral smile.

“Okay, so here’s what’s going to happen next,” she continued with saccharine lacing her tone. “You can leave, right now and pray to whatever deity you hold dear that you never cross paths with Katrina Sykes in a training center,” Katrina shrugged and jabbed her pointer finger into the middle of the other girl’s chest.

“Or you can square up right the fuck now.” Katrina balled up her fists and settled into a boxing stance. “If you stay, I guarantee you’ll be eating sand in a minute, so what’s it going to be?” Honestly, she was hoping the brunette would pick the latter. A good fight always got her blood pumping, and after the crappy day she’d had, she was kind of looking forward to making someone else’s day worse.