Hazel spun away from Snow, scouring for Mia and Aaron.

  The sickening ruby glow of the slaughterhouse bled through the windows. All traces of her guests had vanished except for the kolaches, of course.

  A part of her wished they were still there. Surely, the conversation with her hallucinations would be more comfortable than whatever discussion she and Snow were about to have.

  "Oh, you know, just myself..." Hazel forced her tone to be lax, "And the ghosts, of course."

  Snow hummed thoughtfully as he secured the door. The sound was benign, bordering on amused. "More hallucinations?"

  Muscling her face into neutrality, she swiped crumb dust from the side of her mouth. "No more than normal."

  He browsed the pastry in her hand and then her face again. "I thought this was anything but normal."

  Hazel eased her chair back from the table, "Maybe I am just getting used to abnormality."

  His head pitched to the side. "Are you?"

  Scanning the chair Aaron had occupied, she realized all traces of seawater had dried.

  She was doing just about anything but adjusting properly. "No."

  Snow accepted her honesty without question. A pulse of curiosity radiated through his eyes as he contemplated the tinfoil and dessert closer. She swore a flare of famish crossed his features.

  How bizarre? Did the Capitol really let senators go without?

  "Would you like one?" She offered before she could think better of it.

  Snow's frame stilled. His hunger-soaked observation dragged from the kolaches to her. His eyes grew detached yet somehow all too present at the same time.

  Clearing her tense vocal cords, she fought for a casual tone. "Maybe it's the hunger or stress talking, but it might be the best thing I've ever eaten. Don't tell my mom." Hazel pushed the tin foil-wrapped second pastry in front of the open chair. "Besides, after what happened today..."

  He popped out of his reverie, examining the vacant seat. "Breaking bread with the enemy?"

  She shrugged, "It's practically a hobby now. Outside of that, today, it seems that we are on the same team."

  Snow's shoulders eased as he approached, "You do know that dessert won't cover your little stunt."

  "Even apricot?" She teased, pulling the kolaches to her nose, breathing in a deep whiff of the cooling tart.

  A chuckle slid from him as he unfastened his coat, swiping it behind him and lowering himself into the chair across from her. "Peach would be more persuasive."

  Plucking the aluminum closer, he scrutinized the dessert beckoning from its surface. Despite its inviting nature, he made no move to eat.

  "Doubt it's poisoned," Hazel said, taking another bite.

  Snow's eyes shot to hers, probing. "Maybe I'll wait and see what happens to you first."

  "Suit yourself," Hazel nibbled on another sweet bite, "If I'm dead, does that mean I get out of the rest of the tour?"

  "I prefer the breathing version of you. Besides, you're far more entertaining alive." He replied, gingerly removing his gloves, one finger at a time. Dropping them neatly on the table, he then set to work folding up his long sleeves. "There are certainly less peaceful ways to go," he acquiesced.

  "Then what are you worried about?"

  As he tucked under his pristine cuffs, Hazel caught an imperfection on one of his pale forearms. Along the soft underbelly were two circular discolorations. They were uniform ovals, almost the same peach tone as his skin but a few shades darker.

  She had seen such marks before in the hospital. Loggers who had run-ins with rattlers bore identical scars.

  Where in the world would he, of all people, encounter such a creature? The only snakes occupying the Capitol were in Gaul's lab and those working government jobs.

  "Unlike you, I'm not ready to flatline yet. I've too much I need to do," he answered.

  Hazel swallowed down a particularly gooey bite, trying to ignore the telltale kiss of snake fangs winking up at her. "As President?"

  Snow's smirk sharpened as he finally collected the kolaches. Pulling them up to his eyeline, he scoured for deception. "Precisely."

  President was an absolute upgrade from Gamemaker.

  She didn't know how anyone could bear either position. Though Snow, Gaul, and Augustus reveled in their occupations.

  Augustus more than the other two combined. It was as if he were born with his boot on the neck of others.

  The mere thought of the blue-haired barbarian made her jaw grind.

  "How can you stand it?" She blurted between chews.

  "Once again," Snow examined the space around them, "You'll need to be more specific."

  Fixing him with a bare expression, she clarified. "Working with that shoddy excuse for a man?"

  "Oh, I see. You've been getting familiar with my replacement." Snow squinted at the slaughterhouse.

  "Your interview process needs improvement." She scowled at the wretched building, "A complete gut job, honestly."

  "Though it may seem absurd to you..." Running his thumb over the top of the pastry, he harvested a bit of the filling on his fingertip. "Augustus is a valuable partner."

  She grimaced, "How valuable can a monster be?"

  "Ahh, yes," He conceded, "But he's a caged one."

  Hazel swallowed, "Or leashed..."

  Snow's brow twitched down at his forearm, "Best to keep such beasts close but not too close. Enough slack where they won't bite the hands that feed them, but not too much where you lose track of them."

  "Spoken like someone who's been bit before."

  His scrutiny flared from his arm to her and then down to her bandaged hand, "Seems another thing we have in common."

  Hazel shuddered, "But how much slack do I have?"

  Snow dipped his fruit-coated finger between his lips, "More than most, even if some of it was taken instead of given." His eyes glittered with charm, "But I wouldn't call you a monster in the least."

  She tore her eyes from the man back to her fidgety hands.

  "While there are plenty of justifiable reasons to despise Mr. Trask, you certainly put his gambling to shame with the risk you took today."

  Her appetite plummeted fully into guilt-laden nausea

  Snow bent in toward her, "Don't get me wrong, I admire a boldly-played hand. Even if it was reckless."

  Tracing a ponderous circle with her heel against the flooring, she mumbled, "I didn't do it to be reckless."

  "No?" Snow's voice was downy as he asked, "What of your family, Miss Marlowe? Were they not a part of your calculations?"

  Hazel clamped her lips together for a moment, stilling but not looking away. He was dead on. She had made a precarious gamble with more than just her own existence.

  But then again, none of it would have happened if it weren't for her fathers.

  "Of course, but my calculations included the Shepherds as well...My family has enough blood on our hands."

  His tongue cleaned the edge of his mouth. "Hmmm, balancing the ledger for the family singlehandedly?"

  "I figured if something happened to me...or mine... well." She flicked her eyes toward him, watching carefully. "It would cause quite the disruption to your precious tour or, should I say, campaign. Call it playing the odds if you want."

  Snow adjusted the kolaches in his hold, "Lucky for you, they are firmly in your favor."

  She had expected amusement. Maybe condescension. Instead, there was something like understanding or agreement behind his gaze.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  That was so much worse.

  "Why are you campaigning in the Districts?" It was a question that had been tickling the back of her mind since their arrival.

  "Ahh ahh ahh." Snow tutted, rolling the tart over in his hands. "You can't distract me from our game with pastries. No more freebies tonight." Hazel rolled her eyes as he continued, "Besides, I just answered, so that means it is my turn."

  Hazel settled her stare on her confection, "I should've just eaten them both myself."

  Snow took a long, slow bite, "Too late." His eyes grew as he chewed, returning his studying stare to the kolaches. "You weren't kidding."

  Hazel let the small smirk win the battle over her lips.

  Snow chewed silently, savoring the dessert-like he hadn't eaten in weeks. His pupils dilated, and a look of satisfaction eased away the ever-present arrogance.

  The way he ate was a perplexing thing to watch. It was too methodical, too controlled, and too much like he was holding himself back from just shoving the dessert in his mouth. Apparently, not even his meals were free from his bizarre penchant for control and mind games.

  "You know you are a lot less insufferable like this," Hazel finally murmured.

  Snow swallowed, adjusting his gaze away from the silent conversation he was having with the apricot filling. "Oh? Like what?"

  Hazel took another bite, "Quiet."

  "Careful, Miss Marlowe." Snow regarded her with a light teasing in his eyes, "Sounds like you are starting to enjoy my company."

  Hazel fought an eye roll as she licked her lips, preparing for their game to begin. "I think I'm safe from that, at least."

  "Are you sure?" He tilted his head. "Or would you like to fix my hair for me again?"

  She was thankful for the red fluorescence and prayed it masked her rising blush. "Is that really how you want to spend one of your questions?"

  He cleared his throat, watching her carefully before continuing, "Is your favorite dish really cabbage?"

  Hazel's face warmed as she focused heavily on the apricot dessert in her hands.

  "No lying," Snow smirked between bites, leaning over the table as a couple of globs of apricot fell out. He stared at it for a moment like the kolaches audacity was showing.

  Hazel let out a long sigh, "No, it is not."

  "What is, really?" Snow asked.

  Hazel repeated his previous tutting, "No freebies, remember?"

  Snow acquiesced, raising a hand in surrender, "All right, your turn."

  Hazel met his eyes, "Why are you campaigning in the Districts?"

  Snow seemed unbothered, but she caught a tremor of his foot lightly bouncing against the floor, "You don't believe it was for the food?"

  Hazel sent him a stony look.

  He leaned back, sliding until his chair was facing her, "Even the Districts should be allowed to familiarize themselves with their next President."

  Hazel scoffed, "You seem so certain you will win."

  His blue eyes glittered as he chewed, licking the corner of his lips. "More like highly confident."

  "Same thing."

  "Two very different things."

  Hazel steered her unamused green eyes on him, "Oh right, how could I forget? That's how you approach all your desired victories."

  "You, of all people, should be growing familiar with my methods by now." Snow smiled as he brought the dessert to his mouth, taking another bite.

  "Either way, it seems pointless." Hazel ran a finger over the last few bites left of her kolaches, "It will do little good when we can't even vote."

  "Things aren't always what they seem."

  Hazel's nail dug into the pastry's crispy flesh, "Now, that is something I am becoming quite familiar with."

  "My turn again." He watched her take her last bite before posing his next question, "Have you had a boyfriend before?"

  The final chunk of apricot lodged itself in her throat. Hazel coughed and sputtered on the morsel, doing her best to recover. "Including all the fake ones?"

  Snow shook his head, thoroughly entertained. "Come on."

  She fired him a firm look, "How do you know I don't have one now?"

  He raised a blonde brow that was wholly unbothered. Knowing.

  "Right," She muttered. Of course, he knew she didn't. "No."

  His lip twitched, but he kept quiet. Sliding to the edge of his chair, it was obvious that he desired to prod further into the topic.

  She wasn't about to let that happen. Licking the last remnants of sugar from her fingertips, she squared her shoulders.

  "You went hungry as a child, didn't you?"

  The room felt impossibly quiet. "Why would you think that?"

  Her eyes glided over the two circular scars on his forearm. "Once, I was told that in our world, children pay for the debts of their predecessors." Hazel shuddered at the memory of those words slipping from Heath's lips. "Though you might try to mask it with your... methods. It seems that is a truth that even you couldn't escape."

  Snow paused his chewing. The weight of his stare was suffocating.

  Hazel shifted her feet as she questioned herself why she was even bringing up the dark days. "The districts are educated well of the starvation in the Capitol during the war." Hazel stammered, "And when you've experienced it yourself, sometimes you recognize it."

  "Very perceptive," He stared down at what was left of the pastry, "Grandma'am, Tigris, and I lived many years off cabbage soup, lima beans, and a few potatoes. It's the reason I can't stand the stuff. Even the scent of it. Smells like poverty, like hunger ... like my childhood."

  "I see," Hazel mumbled. She suddenly felt guilty for her stunt with the vegetable. "And yet you ate it at my family's table."

  "I told you before," he licked his bottom lip, biting a morsel of apricot caught there.

  "Suffering can be power."

  Snow's eyes flashed to the windows, "That and it is best not to allow your enemies to see you bleed."

  "Then maybe you are the one who should stop breaking bread with them."

  "What would be the fun in that?" he gibed.

  Hazel sighed, "Seems our worlds will always be at odds."

  His attention resettled on her, "Perhaps."

  Maybe they were all doomed to be in opposition for eternity. The chasm was impossibly deep and jagged. She wasn't sure they had better odds than their predecessors at all.

  An almost heavy quietude fell between them. Snow didn't move to finish his kolaches right away. Again, he seemed to continue to restrain himself, tightly managing his actions.

  She tried to picture him as a little boy with blonde curls, blue eyes watering as he choked down mouthfuls of lima bean soup. In some way, a puzzle piece had fallen into place in the grand conundrum that was the man before her.

  After several moments, he seemed to resolve himself to continue their game. Shaking off the solemn intensity that permeated the room like the ridiculous scarlet lighting. "Since we are on the topic of our childhoods, about this lack of a boyfriend thing..."

  Hazel groaned, tilting her head back. He obviously was determined to have them both marinate in discomfort. "What about it?"

  Snow's smirk returned, his perfected armor firmly back in place, "Has no one ever caught your eye?"

  "I don't know...I haven't..." She hadn't really had the luxury; she had fleeting childhood crushes but nothing substantial. Between two jobs, managing to keep Heath from starving, and the family in general, she had neither the time nor the opportunity.

  "It is difficult to worry about that sort of thing when you spend your days surviving. Not to mention, my brothers are..." Hazel swallowed, looking out the windows at the harsh cherry glow. Between Silus and Rowan, she had been well looked after, even out in the remote clearings. Along with Oren being their supervisor and Heath clearly unhinged, she was left in peace. Silus would have been fuming if he had been aware of this little chat. Or if he knew of everything that had happened since the Games ended.

  "...were...protective."

  Snow seemed much too satisfied with that answer. It grated her nerves. "I mean, I always thought Bao from middle school was cute."

  He pondered her response, "What does Bao look like?"

  She made a show of perusing him from head to toe. She would allow this one follow-up question if only to spite him for his smugness while slightly altering her recollection of Bao's appearance. "He's tan. Short, dark black hair, big brown eyes. She pitched her head to the side, "Hates games. Now that you mention it, I should really see what he is up to when I get home."

  "Perhaps I will as well." Snow smirked as he shoved the last bit of his dessert in his mouth. Hazel watched on with unease as he licked his fingers without breaking their eye contact.

  "My turn?" she stammered.

  "By all means," Snow pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and dabbed at the edges of his mouth. "If you'd want to ask about my past lovers, you are more than welcome. I'm an open book."

  His assured smile infuriated her.

  Like hell, she had another idea in mind. She felt off-center, and it was only fair if he had to share in the sensation.

  "What illness does President Ravinstill have?"

  Without warning, the entire atmosphere morphed. His smirk evaporated. Her pulse revved. She'd struck gold.

  The blood-red light washing over them deepened. His hand stilled, and his eyes clouded until they were nearly the same purple-blue shade as the night sky. Scratch that. She'd struck an artery. Could the Capitol's marble prince really fracture with one question?

  "Hazel." His eyes drilled into hers, "I understand that after today, you may be feeling bold. You played the odds and won." He let the words settle before adding, "But you have to realize that is only because you have the house on your side."

  He delicately folded his handkerchief, clutching it in one of his hands.

  With a low sigh, he dragged his chair forward. Not in a hurried or unbalanced way, but instead slow and wholly intentional. He converged on her until the fabric of the lilac dress skirted his knees.

  It suddenly felt like she was trying to breathe through a straw.

  "You need to think really hard before you answer this..." Icy chills rotted her nerves. "Is that a question you really want to ask me?"

  Over the last several months, she witnessed a kaleidoscope of Coriolanus Snow's masks and facades. However, his countenance had melted into the same look he had when contemplating his kolaches. It petrified her to the core, but something deep within her persuaded her to hold fast.

  He shouldn't have started this Game if he didn't want to play it. Or maybe he should have chosen a different opponent.

  "It is, Coriolanus."

  Bending forward, his bare hands gripped the arms of her chair, boxing her in without touching her.

  Escape was all but impossible.

  As the space between them dissolved, Hazel fought her acute impulse to shrink away. Holding her ground, she settled into the paper-thin silence.

  When her refusal to withdraw her question became clear, he whispered, "I suppose this means I owe you."

  He owes her?

  Hazel's heart pounded against her chest. Each beat was loud and erratic as their eyes held each other in a standoff. The lack of an answer was more blood-curdling than anything else he could have said.

  "My turn?" He whispered.

  Now, she was in for it.

  She directed a weak nod at him.

  "Do you still dream of me?"

  A vivid rose-tinged blush flooded her face in an unspoken answer. Though she knew he wanted to hear her say it. He wanted her to refuse, to cancel out his debt with hers. "No lying," he breathed.

  She squashed her spine against the back of the chair. She couldn't lose the advantage she had just unceremoniously gained. Her answer slipped from her like a painful truth she wished to remain buried within her broken mind.

  "Yes."

  He hummed as he raised the handkerchief between them. His eyes dropped to her mouth and then swept back to her irises. "Wonder what we talk about." Advancing toward her, the cool, satiny fabric ghosted over the edge of her lips, brushing away imaginary crumbs. "Is talking all we do?"

  Goosebumps littered her neck, and she shoved her feet hard against the floor. Her chair skidded backward, screeching as the legs protested her harsh reaction.

  The delicate skin over her jugular was like the hide over a drum, bounding wildly and painfully visible. "It's not your turn," she croaked.

  "No need to answer." He reclined with a dark grin, dropping the handkerchief into his breast pocket.

  She chomped down on the inside of her cheek while he folded the tinfoil into a sharp ball. Throwing the remnants of their previously serene meal in the trash, he rose from his seat.

  "Coriolanus?" she whispered

  His scrutiny warred with hers. "Something you want to ask me?"

  "What's on the tape?" She hoped he would finally give her the relief of knowing, even if she melted into a puddle of panic.

  He let out a soft sound, wiping his hands with the silk square. "We've gone over this already."

  She struggled to steady her voice. "You promised," her words were barely above a murmur.

  "So I did." Snow leaned back, the tension breaking as he gestured to the tinfoil in the trash can, "I promised dinner and a movie, didn't I? And this was hardly a proper dinner." Snow replaced his gloves. "Another time, Miss Marlowe."

  With that, he rolled his cuffs back down his arms. After buttoning his jacket, he strode to the door. Pausing with his hand coiled tightly around the handle, he turned back to her, "You were right, you know."

  Hazel's trachea constricted. "Which part?"

  His blue eyes smoldered as they met hers. "The stakes are certainly higher now."