dreamers are selfish ⁠— nessa & nico.

It's tequila she drinks tonight, the finest of liquors the Capitol has to offer. Nessa would have nothing less touch her lips. To do so would be a travesty, obviously. And the last thing she needed was her little rat of a half-sister to go around saying she saw Nessa drinking a beer or something.

Didn't you see her last night? I wonder if her father can't afford liquor any more. Nessa can just hear her now, venom spilling from her lips as she takes the Moreau name in vain out of pure spite. Fucking bitch.

It wasn't Nessa's fault her mother had trouble keeping her legs closed and lost her original meal ticket as a result. Her father had chosen her and she betrayed him. What a mistake it had turned out to be, and the two were divorced within three months of Nessa's birth. But it didn't take long for her mother to find another rich and handsome fool to leech off of. And thus Maya was born. The bane of Nessa's existence, and the very reason she found herself out on the town tonight with exactly one mission: drink enough to forget she ever had a sister. And she was off to a great start, nice and tipsy from the first stop her and her squad had made.

They'd had delicious drinks and tasty appetizers; now it was time to dance. Her three best friends in tow, Nessa lets out a barking laugh at one of the girl's quips as they exit the bar, but the smile is quickly replaced with a frown as someone walks into her. 

"Excuse you!" She sighs heavily, smoothing out her dress as she wobbles a little on her heels and looks toward the rude shithead who wasn't looking where they were going. "Wait. Holy shit—you" eyes wide, Nessa's mouth falls agape as it registers just exactly who was grasping at her shoulders for balance. "Close. A flow is my middle name. Not sure how you remembered that and not Nessa, my actual name." She shoos away her friends, mouthing I'll catch up before looking back towards the drunk and slurring victor of the 81st. 

"Nico Thorne, in the flesh. What brings you here? 'Cause I know it's not my invitation to dinner."

He's a mess.

The aroma of liquor and stale cigarettes wafts off of him in this close proximity, but at the edges, Nessa swears she can smell the hint of cologne. Faintly. Like he doesn't want anyone to know he's capable of trying, capable of putting forth the effort of taking care of himself. Because as she takes in the full sight of him, all she can think is that he's had one too many and in need of a little sobering advice.

Nessa's chest puffs out purely out of instinct, pride and judgement ready to bark out from between her glossed lips, but this was a victor she was standing before. Not just anyone. She would need to choose her words very carefully if she wanted anything to come from this chance encounter.

And make no mistake, Nessa Moreau had big plans for the boy standing before her and she was meant to be a part of them.

"Good," she smirks, hand floating down to her hip with a bit of attitude, self-importance clawing at the edges of her throat. It wasn't her only vice, but it was most certainly her worst. But the twinge of helplessness she could spot around the edges of Nico's eyes made her bite her tongue. That and him saying he'll never forget made something in her chest flutter momentarily. 

Nessa's fought her entire life to be unforgettable, and just once she wants to meet someone who would be unforgettable in return. Someone who didn't bore her completely, and who she didn't bore either. A person her equal, in all her rage and all her harmony. Someone who could handle both. When she had seen Nico in the arena for the first time, so strong and eager, her interests had been piqued, but with all the limbs he'd lost and all the fights he'd fled from, she'd all but written him off the moment an unscathed Diana had marked him for death. But much to her and the entire country's surprise, he'd won. And here he stands before an heiress in the middle of the street smelling like whiskey and regret and victory. 

It looked good on him, but something told her if she said as much, he'd hate to hear it. He takes a few steps back and she catches herself frowning as a result, then makes a mental note to never get caught doing that again. Begging for a segue, Nessa digs deep into the bag on her shoulder, fumbling around within the pockets until she finds what she's looking for. A set of matches from the club behind them. 

"Here," she holds the box out between her index and middle finger, but snatches it back quickly with a wicked grin. "Only if you share, though." Then she leans in, closing the distance he'd just put between them without asking. She looks over her shoulder, calculated yet natural, like she's done this move a hundred times before. Nessa makes sure her hair tosses perfectly, nearly swiping him in the face, but just far enough away that he can definitely smell her vanilla conditioner. Then she turns back quickly and lets out a soft giggle. "Just don't tell anyone." She feigns grave concern, hand to her chest, though deep down it may be a bit too real. More than she'd ever care to admit. God knows her sister's minions were out and about gathering intel, looking for any slip to use against her. "I'm trusting you," she offers him, eyes soft and looking up at him under long lashes, and she presses the box of matches against his chest with a smile.

He's charming.

And he knows it.

But Nessa's confused as to why she gets the sense he doesn't necessarily like being perceived that way. Maybe it's too foreign. She knows he's from Twelve and can't imagine there's a place like this there, or people like her, for that matter. She's only heard stories of what it's like there. Dark and dreary, the ground covered in dust and boot prints from the miners. It does not sound like a happy place, especially for a child. And she wonders if that is why there seems to be just a hint of sadness in the corners of his eyes whenever Nessa catches his gaze. A bit of leftover pain from a boy who grew up far too fast and never had the chance to enjoy being young and free and happy. 

There's nothing free about growing up in Twelve, that much she knows.

Nothing happy, either. 

Nessa thinks of how much she hated her youth. How much she loathed her whore of a father. How much she envied her sister for being the daughter of the woman he'd actually loved and cared about. How much she hated herself for never quite being enough. But in comparison to the man standing before her, she had it better than most. She'd never gone hungry a day in her life. Never not had a roof over her head or clothes to her name. She never had to worry about whether or not this was the year she would be chosen to die. It's privilege that she's always been basked in, worn like armor or a crown. All stemming from the simple fact she was born here as opposed to there. 

In the moment, it feels preposterous. That such a thing as simple as where they were born would separate her and Nico so much. That it would damn him for eternity and alternatively set her up for the rest of her life. It's never something she's really thought about like this before, but as she does so, staring into his eyes, it churns her stomach. She wants to back away, to inhale deeply and use a breath of fresh air to center herself. But then he's leaning in just as close as she had a moment ago and tucking a loose curl behind her ear with a smirk. 

It's disarming in the most exciting way. Her upset stomach shifts in an instant to nervous butterflies as her cheeks start to flush. Nessa had approached him with such confidence, with such pride and importance, that it was almost silly how easily she wrapped herself around his finger. She had said she was trusting him and without hesitation, Nico warned her against it. But for the life of her, Nessa couldn't, or rather wouldn't, believe him. 

"I've been known to make a bad decision, or two," she mutters, plucking the cigarette from between his fingers delicately, making sure she brushes against his skin as she gives him a wink. "But," she pauses as she places the filter between her lips and takes a long drag, "something tells me you're wrong." 


Nessa's lips twist into a smirk as she hands back the cigarette, exhaling slowly up into the air above them. "There's a reason they all love you," she says passionately, gesturing over to the small crowd of people staring at the two of them, whispering excitedly as they spot Nico Thorne himself in the flesh. She turns her back to them and leans against the brick wall beside him as she hooks his gaze with hers once more. "It's a shame you don't realize why."