i used to pray when i was sixteen. dom.

Shit. I wasn't ready for him to look so young.

Beck's an adult now, at least. Not that it makes the pain behind his eyes any easier to look at. It ages him ten years, rugged and war-torn despite his soft features. Seeing Beck at all was a relief, a bit of normalcy in all of this chaos. Selfishly I grabbed him in my arms the moment they all arrived and clung to him for a moment longer than I should of. Given the rumours I'd heard about some of the Districts late last year I was half relieved just to see him still alive.

I'd missed Beck and his little comments about Basso, the way he patiently sat in his place as I faffed and over-analysed every little detail about his hair, the way he looked at me like I knew what I was doing - with faith, maybe even some trust. Nobody else looks at me like that. Everyone else just doubts my ability, even me.

So sue me if I forgot I'd have to dress another one this year, let alone one half Beck's size - at least he still has all his limbs. Bit ignorant of me to forget that these kids will keep coming and coming and coming and I'm chewing the inside of my cheek with worry and a little bit of self-hatred trying to remind myself not to talk to him like a child. At seventeen I was working full time. This kid's just got to...

Yeah. This is going to be painful to watch.

"Hey ki- Dominic," damn, my nickname for Beck's already warn out. Can't be giving it to this one too, I think he'd rather I not patronise him as I take his measurements. Guarantee Basso's already spoken to him like he's ten years old. "I'm Sailor, come on in."

I usher him in with my free hand, another clutching three coat hangers. "Which one do you like better?" I ask, holding up the three suits and shimmying my wrist. "Red, gold, or silver?"

There's no right answer, I'd just like him to have some control. If I've gotta put the kid in something silly and shiny it might as well be his favourite colour.