angels & airwaves. // xena toast.

She hosts an event at her place of work - a chance to show how far ALL-CAPS studios have come from their humble beginnings to now. Radio booths glisten and gleam with staff recording their next podcasts, curious faces peering through the soundproof glass. Statisticians and interns click away at their screens and data as the air around them swims with excited chatter from guests, asking questions and making slightly unhelpful suggestions. And then there's the catering, white Avoxes silently offering up snacks and drinks - Xena feels a little bad for them sometimes, and then she remembers one of them probably killed her husband.

So she blinks away her grief and smiles, basking in the pride of where she works and the endless stream of compliments and pleased murmurs from guests. Not every day did one get to go behind the scenes on one of the Capitol's rising media agencies. She couldn't take all the credit - making sure to note other producers efforts and tirelessly thanking the cast and crew both in front and behind the microphones. One must be humble in this line of work - but they must also know when to take a well-overdue compliment.

"A toast!" she calls over the air, much to the entertained whimsy of her esteemed guests. "To the team who have agreed to work tonight to show you what we do here at ALL-CAPS."

Xena joins in a polite round of applause before returning to the mic, her words filling the building through speaker systems. "Some of you may be aware that I have been selected to run for the High Council this year. Let us raise our glasses to making sure Panem's communications systems are of the best of the best if I'm elected. The messages we send to the Districts must be crystal clear, yes?"

She takes a sip, swallowing the poison hidden behind her words.