I think you missed some / [nan/coach]

N A N E T T E   Ψ   C A R T E R

The mask I wore was sturdy, ever since exiting the train I had been sure to make sure that it did not slip. Already I had allowed Turner to see too much of me, so much so that he had been almost able to read me like a book. His assumptions and statements so close to the truth that it scared me. I hated that he had so easily seen pasts my guards, I hated that I had allowed him to glimpse me without my shields. It was dangerous mistake, and one that I was determined to not make again.

I sit at one of the tables in the eating area, my hand picking out an apple that was pink and green. I take a bite, and the moment my teeth sink into the apples flesh my mouth is filled with juice that is sweet yet sour. I nearly moan, my teeth pulling away a chunk with a satisfying crunch. Even being from Four I could appreciate the freshness of the fruit, a crispiness like this was hard to find. It was damn good  apple.

Chewing carefully I allow my gaze to sweep the room. Most tributes had vacated the dining hall, eager to test out the stations, the ones from the lower districts attempting to learn as much as they could, in an attempt to catch up to those of us who had studied the games our whole lives. I liked to think that being in four gave me a huge advantage... but looking into the pages of the past, having the title of 'career' seemed to paint a target bigger than most can handle.

My eyes come to a halt on a boy with hair has dark as Callan's, and eyes just as bright. For a moment I feel as though my breath has escaped my lungs, my throat going dry. I blink once, and then twice, and suddenly Callan's face fades and I notice that apart from the colour of his hair, and the piercing blue of his eyes, he looked nothing like my brother.

Quickly I shove back my walls, my lips pulling into a smirk as I noticed the dried sauce on his top lip, and the trail that had landed on his chest, tarnishing the pristine condition of his uniform. I move like a predator, prowling towards him until I stand before his table. I press the palm of my right hand onto the hard surface of his table, the other reaching forward to smear the last of the sauce across his upper lip. "You're quite the grub, aren't you?"