Halle Gremlin, District 6 (trict) wrote in colosseum, @ 2014-02-25 06:24:00 |
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"The light in here is dreadful," Ollo Fortuna commented, looking about in disgust. There seemed to be oil and grease simply everywhere, and his shoes cost more than the Gremlin family made in a year. Thank goodness he'd had his cape shortened before setting off for District 6; he couldn't bear the idea of ruining it in all this filth. "However do they get any work done at all?" It took a while to scope out the best angle of the space. He'd seen the Gremlin home, and knew immediately it was wrong. Halle's strengths (what few she had) relied on her industrial skill. These interviews should take place in her real home: the garage. He sent the small army of Avox assistants he insisted he'd need (correctly, he was glad to see) to go attend to the Gremlin men. They ought to look dirty, of course, but artistically dirty. The Capitol was watching. "Isn't that adorable," Ollo assessed the Avoxs' work. Good, good. Everything looked quite natural--a bit of grease on the hands here, or above the eyebrows there. Smudged (but not disgusting) rags hanging out of various pockets. Hair mussed oh-so-delicately. "You all have your sister's cheekbones. It must run in the family line." The Gremlin men looked unimpressed. "Oughtn't there be another one of you?" The four brothers and their father glanced at each other, then back at the camera an Avox was focusing on them. "Is that thing on?" Henry, the patriarch, asked. Ollo looked over to the camera. "Noooo," he lied. "Absolutely not." "Howard's locked up at the moment." "Oh!" Ollo exclaimed, scandalized. "Do tell?" Hank, the always-sensible oldest, took it on himself to explain. "There was a man talking a little too loud about what he thought of Halle's chances. Howard taught him to be a little more polite. And optimistic." "He punched his teeth out." Holt could hardly hold in his laughter. "So he won't be joining us for the interview," said Horatio, "but he's here in spirit." "So, what do you really think of your sister's chances?" "We've always had faith in our Halle," Hank began. Ollo rolled his eyes; they were the same pat, genial answers they heard every year from the families. Everyone was polite, confident, believed in their son or daughter. Everyone wanted to be good for the Capitol audience. Ollo was determined to shake things up and get a real interview. Hoban cut in next. "She's small, but she's scrappy. She's got a lot of spirit." Ollo took his chance. "She is small indeed. The smallest tribute left, in fact. You can't tell me you ever really believed she'd make it this far, can you?" The air of polite subservience prickled. Each brother sat forward with an instinctive protectiveness. "Of course we did," Holt spoke for the group. The edge in his voice startled even Ollo. "We never doubted her for a second." "But surely the odds never quite looked in her favor--" "Do you have any other questions?" Hank's tone seemed to calm his younger brothers, but not much. "Biggest threats?" Hoban considered for a moment. "Well, that fucker from--" "Language, please," Ollo cut him off. "This is a family broadcast, after all." "Are you fucking kidding me?" "Holt--" "They broadcast out footage of fuckers trying to murder our little sister every night," Holt seethed, "And they can't handle the word 'fuck'?" "Holt." Hank's voice rang with warning. Holt took the message and slumped back, refusing to say another word for the rest of the interview. Ollo checked his watch. It was about time to wrap things up. "And what would you say to Halle if she could hear you?" Henry and his sons looked to Horatio, who'd always been closest not only in age but in spirit with their sister. His quiet voice hinted at cracking, but never quite broke. "Come back to us." Later, as they packed everything back up into the train to head back to the Capitol, Ollo Fortuna gave District 6 one last look. "I thought there would be more tires." |