Clint loved District Twelve. The air was sharper out here, fresher. Its landscape, minus the coal mines and starving people, reminded him of some the good parts of home, without actually carrying the baggage of home. He loved the way the mountains carved teeth into the horizon, how they lit up in autumn like they were wildfire. It was a damn shame that he didn't have many occasions to visit. Of all the districts to visit, this one was the farthest away, and one of the poorest, which meant that going there for shows was just bad business sense. Plus, except for a handful of people he already knew, the people here didn't... like him very much. Given who he was. What he'd done. It would be bad form to come here on business.
Which is why he'd been so thrilled to get Scott's invitation. As if it weren't exciting enough to see Twelve, Cassie was a firecracker, and Clint had never been shy about his adoration toward her. He would never have kids of he own, he knew; it was too risky, and he got occasional pangs of preemptive grief on Scott's behalf. But she was young enough now that the prospect of the Games was far away, and he could slip entirely into his adopted role of "fun uncle." He'd genuinely enjoyed shopping for her, buying books and dolls and puzzles that were bright and shiny and new, nothing like dirty, sharp second stuff he'd had growing up. After all, by the time he'd been just a little older than Cassie, he was figuring out how to weaponize pebbles to kill anything from rats to rabbits, and that was a much more productive game than anything his toys could provide. So, in short, he was thrilled to give Cassie something real to play with, and he lit up when he saw her.
Clint bent at the knees and reached out to tweak Cassie's nose. "How about 'Cassie is the smartest, prettiest, best birthday girl in the whole world?'" he asked, raising his eyebrows at her. "Is that the password?" He opened his arms for a hug, then winked up at her father, mouthing the words thank you.