As the holo projector shows the vast expanse of factories and tall glass buildings that make up District 3, you get up from Honorius' side, get some water, and then take a seat next to Willow. Honorius glances at you briefly but only narrows his eyes at you for a few moments before returning his gaze to the projection.
You want Willow as an ally. You know she's smart and strong. She has to be. Everyone heard about Udo Thompson going missing a few years back. He was a mean son of a bitch and you heard whispers of what he liked to do to little girls who ventured too close to the slag heap behind the Hob. No one was sure what happened to Udo and the peacekeepers didn't try very hard to find him. Most Seam folks think that Willow had something to do with it but no one gave her name to the white ones. She might just have the stomach for the games if the rumors were true and if it came down to it, you'd rather her win than anyone else. A victory for District 12 would save a lot of lives at the Home. You need to gain her trust though. Giving her some information about the tributes will show her that you're willing to cooperate. You can only hope she feels the same way.
Her eyes are focused on the projection of the District 3 escort reading off his cards but you know she's not really paying attention. Her eyes aren't focused and it looks like she's focused on a spot past the holo.
"Willow?" You don't exactly whisper but you're not exactly trying to draw Honorius' attention either. He doesn't look like he minds right now but you're not exactly trying to rub your little rebellion in his face either.
She looks at you with tired eyes. It looks as if even though she didn't have to see the other reapings, they still somehow had an impact. You guess that the knowledge that they were happening was enough. "Yeah, what is it?" Her tone isn't hostile...it's wary.
You think it's best if you just get straight to the point. "The boy from 10 is a threat. Rich rancher's son, big, well fed, and he looks mean. The pair from 6 looked pretty strong too, stronger than usual..."
She raises an eyebrow and cuts you off. "Why are you telling me this?"
The District 3 victors take a bow as their names are called in the background. There are only two of them and they're old enough that you don't know their names. You still think you have a few minutes before the reaping itself. "Because I'd like us to work together. If I can't win, I'd want you to. You have people that rely on you and we both know that everyone back home could use the food parcels."
She seems to relax slightly, uncrossing her arms. "Alright, what else then?"
You give her a small smile and tell her about nearly every tribute, even the ones that didn't make much of an impression. You tell her about the girl with the grateful idiot act from 11, the boy with the speech impediment from 9, the pair from 5, one bright and bubbly, the other cold and sarcastic. You tell her about the beautiful pair from 4, and how Honorius thinks that the girl might be more approachable or less likely to kill you outright, at any rate. Finally, you tell her about the pair from 7, "We'll have to watch out for 7," you say. "Honorius says they look like they've been logging for a while already."
A shout from the holo projector grabs your attention. "Radian Cilica!" You turn to watch a girl from the 17-year-old section be escorted up to the stage. She was as thin as a rail and looking everywhere as if trying to find a route of escape.
Willow looks at the District 3 reaping and scoffs. "Honorius says..."She shakes her head. "He's really got you eating out of the palm of his hand, doesn't he?"
You scowl. "I don't have to like him to listen to what he has to say. I don't know about you, but I want to live."
The old victor yells at you from across the lounge. "Stop your chatting and watch the reaping! You can get at each other's throats later."
Willow scoffs and ignores Honorius. "You don't get it do you? They own us, always have." she lowers her head, her voice dropping to a near whisper. "The dead are going to be the lucky ones…"
You can't believe what you're hearing. "So, you're just going to lay down and die then? If I had a family…" You speak in a harsh whisper, trying to get her to see some sense.
She stops you by practically shoving her hand in your face. "Don't... just don't…" Willow turns back to the projection and you follow suit as Honorius levels you with a stern glare.
You missed whatever question the District 3 escort asked the female tribute, but you don't think she said anything particularly noteworthy because she's shaking like a leaf. There are no volunteers.
"Packard Wallace!" crows the escort next and a boy from the middle rows walks up like he's in a daze. He's a little heftier than the girl but younger and shorter.
The escort, clad in an oddly subdued black and gold suit, tries to engage the boy in conversation as he takes his place on the stage, but the boy is sullenly silent.
The Capitol man laughs it off. "Just a little stage fright!"
When no volunteers present themselves, Wallace shrinks in on himself, his fate sealed. When prompted to cheer for their tributes, the people in the square link arms and glare with a collective hatred that you've only seen in 3. There were too many loyalist merchants in 12 for such solidarity in your district.
Lucretia Tannenbaum speaks up in such a fake cheerful voice that it makes you want to vomit. "Well, there you have it folks! District 3! Such weird local customs, don't you agree Gaius?"
Gaius nods like you would to reassure a small child. "Oh yes, I hear that staring intently at someone is a foremost sign of respect in the district."
They can't possibly believe that but maybe they thought that the Capitol audience was just that dumb. If Templesmith was anything to go by, you wouldn't be surprised if that was the case.
The anthem blares as the broadcast switches to District 2 and Honorius sighs. "Here we go."
The Capitol seal soon gives way to stunning views of a mountain, a real mountain. Not like the large hills surrounding District 12 that you knew as mountains but the kind that was sheer jagged rock, tapered to a point and reaching up to the sky. The gigantic landmark casts a large shadow over a vast metropolis surrounded by many lesser mountains and hills. They manage to get some shots of the snow-capped vistas that nearly take your breath away, but your gut is too busy churning in protest for you to appreciate it. In a few short minutes, you're going to lay your eyes on the tributes that were likely going to slaughter you without pity or remorse.
As the cameras move to cover the celebrations in the streets, you feel even more sickened. Peacekeepers were marching through the wide main street to the square, but the people didn't cower and hide in their homes, they cheered the Capitol's soldiers on, throwing white paper slips that resembled those used for the reapings from the rooftops and raising banners with propaganda slogans like "To Traitors Never Yield!" and "Duty Over Life!". The banners were sacrificial white and the lettering the color of blood. This wasn't like District 4 where the crowds were putting on a good show of being happy to honor their tributes. Here, the people were screaming and shouting in joy, ecstatic at the beginning of another year's games.
When the projection finally shows the main square, the commentators have worked themselves into a frenzy. "Time for the sturdy and reliable District 2, the bedrock of the nation! There from the beginning of Panem, the beginning of time!" Gaius sounds genuinely excited for once, not having to fake his enthusiasm.
As every single child in the reaping pen salutes the entrance of the Capitol escort, the famous Lupo Aurelius, with fists clenched over their hearts, Lucretia exclaims, "They never fail to put forth their best effort!"
You count eleven victors behind the Capitol escort, all dressed in military style clothes colored a rusty red. You recognize the oldest, the victor of the very first Hunger Games, Marcus Thread, and several of the younger ones. You see Calla first. About a decade ago, she gouged out the eyes of her final victim, the District 1 boy, before setting him loose for one last hunt, playing with him and dragging out his excruciating death. They showed a recap of it every time the Capitol wanted to remind the districts of the brutality of District 2. Then there was Enobarbus, who beheaded a total of 8 tributes with his two-handed sword. The last one you recognize is the victor from two years ago, Sempronia. She broke from the pack midway through the games and methodically hunted the other tributes one by one with her bow and arrow. When she ran out of arrows, she made more. She didn't seem to take pleasure in killing though, ending the others' lives as quickly and efficiently as possible. Since Chaff won last year, you hadn't seen a whiff of Sempronia on the projector in the square. You think she bored the Capitol. You hated all of the games, but you hated the years that District 2 won the most because then all the Capitol could talk about was how loyal and great District 2 was and its long history and so on and so forth for the rest of the year. Since they won at least once every five years and often more than that, you know that the other districts were probably sick of it too.
The blond Lupo Aurelius, matching the victors by wearing a rust red tuxedo that was pretty plain by Capitol standards, greets the gathered crowd. "Citizens of District 2! Happy Hunger Games!"
The response of the crowd is deafening, and they start chanting "Lu-po! Lu-po!"
The Capitol escort basks in the attention. "Oh my...You're all too kind! Much too kind!" After the chanting dies down, he asks, "Should I draw the name of the lucky girl who gets to come on stage?"
The crowd erupts in approval and Lupus follows their wishes by pulling a small slip of white paper from the girls' reaping bowl. "Ember Whitaker!"
A small girl from the back rows comes running up to the stage, heedless of any possible danger. You notice that there are no peacekeepers in the reaping pen. The thought of a candidate resisting or refusing to go up to the stage must be unthinkable.
The girl can't be more than thirteen, with thick, red pigtails and a freckled face. Lupo fusses over her. "Oh, my dear girl, I have a feeling you won't be able to come to the Capitol with us. Could you tell us what you're going to do when you're older?"
The girl's smile is carefree and her answer is immediate. "I want to be a doctor!"
Lupo chuckles. "And why is that, young lady?"
Ember's lips thin and her voice is determined. "My daddy lost his leg in the quarries. I want to help him get a new one."
"What a sweet little girl," croons Lucretia.
Lupo smiles at her and pats Ember on her shoulder. "I'm sure I speak for everyone in the Capitol when I say, 'We wish you all the best.'"
He turns back to the reaping pen. "Now, do we have a volunteer?"
The camera instantly focuses on the front row of girls where a line of ten candidates stands at rigid attention, wearing a similar rust red outfit as the victors are but the candidates' outfits don't have sleeves. The one on the very right of your vision, closest to the stage raises a closed fist straight above her head. "I volunteer as tribute!"
Honorius says her name immediately. "Thracia. Highest scores on the kill tests every year."
That was a good name for her, you think. She's a beautiful dark-skinned girl about your age but her muscles put you to shame. With a fierce grin on her face, you can't help but think she looks like a female Chaff.
Thracia takes the little girl's place, patting her on the head as she passes by. After she introduces herself only as "Thracia", Lupo asks her a standard question for the upper districts. "How do you think you'll beat all of the other tributes?"
She gives shrugs and gives a typical but chilling career response. "Bash their heads in, slice their throats, chop of some limbs and watch them bleed out...makes no difference to me. No matter what, I'm coming out of that arena a victor."
Well...you're fucking terrified. You exchange a look with Willow and her raised eyebrow says it all. 'Make friends with that? Good luck'
"Well," Lucretia says. "She's certainly got a fighting spirit. She'll need it to survive this year, Gaius!"
Lupo congratulates Thracia on the honor of representing District 2 before moving on to the boys. "Andronikos Marshall!"
A boy from the 16-year-old section marches proudly up to the stage, stone-faced and stern.
Lupus interviews him just like he did with that little girl. "What a dashing young man! What will you be doing after finishing your schooling?"
The black-haired, pale boy speaks in an even monotone. "I'll enter the Peacekeeper Academy and serve the Capitol like my father before me." You think he came out of the womb at attention. He'll be a great peacekeeper...
Lupo nods solemnly. "Then we salute your commitment."
Again, he asks the candidates in the reaping pen for a volunteer. This time, the shot zooms in on a beast of a boy, bigger than Tyde from 4 and Otis from 10. Brown-haired and with dark eyes, the capitol wouldn't swoon over him like they do for the blond tributes from 1, but his sheer size and mass makes him a big contender, quite literally. He could probably crush your skull like a nutshell if he wanted.
"That's Slayte," says Honorius. "Thracia is clearly the focus this year. He's there to watch her back and keep the ones in line. He doesn't show much initiative but no one, two years above him or below him can beat him one on one with a sword in hand."
The reaped male and the volunteer nod and clasp forearms, the giant brute taking his place on the stage.
Lupo, after getting Slayte's name asks him, "What do you have to say to District 2?"
"That I will bring pride and honor to the district, either with my sacrifice or my victory." Slayte sounds like he's reading from a script and his voice doesn't have any inflection whatsoever.
Honorius sighs. "Cassius did always pick strength over charisma."
The broadcast cuts away with the scene of Thracia and Slayte raising their arms in salute to the district while the crowd roars and chants their names, saluting with raised fists in unison. You've seen this before on the reaping recaps back in district 12. The sight fills you with a burning hate every time.
As the scene switches to the glittering skyscrapers of District 1, Honorius says, "We'll talk after, The Commentators have already started dropping some hints about the arena, so pay attention."
The citizens in the bustling streets look to be wearing the latest, most garish Capitol fashions and bear jewels the size of small rocks on their necklaces and rings. Nearly everyone was blond and what the Capitol would likely think of as beautiful with pale skin and colorful eyes that shine, almost unnaturally, like the gems they mine. Unlike in 2, there is no military parade, and the residents look calmer, but that wasn't saying much. You watch with morbid fascination as a throng of girls, fifteen or sixteen maybe all gather behind a line in colorful dresses but wearing shoes that resemble the shoes with rubber soles that you had to share at school when it was time to run. Once an older man wearing a suit of silver with purple accents shoots a pistol in the air from a raised platform, the girls take off, screaming and laughing, jostling each other for position.
Lucretia titters with excitement. "Oh, I do so love to see a reaping race! My favorite part of the District 1 tradition!"
With paths to other side streets blocked off and the crowd following behind them, it gives more of the impression of a stampede of cattle than a race.
You glance over to Willow. She looks absolutely horrified but soon bites her lip and continues to watch.
"Ah, yes!" crows Gaius. "The Gold Rush! It ensures that only the most determined girl gets her chance in the spotlight!"
They show a shot of the waiting Capitol escort, Lucretia's own younger brother, Virgil Tannenbaum, dressed head to toe in emeralds, with deep green hair and clothes to match, standing at the center of the stage. The first thing you notice is how the glass reaping bowls are empty.
"They're not going to reap anyone?" you ask.
"They already did. They keep them in reserve and out of sight until the volunteers are official," Honorius says. "They don't like some random mongrel stealing the spotlight from their perfect creations." His voice is full of disdain and his frown deepens as Templesmith rushes through the door to the dining car as if he was running the race as well.
"Why didn't you tell me District 1 was on? I simply must see what darlings step up to compete this year!" He was frazzled and fussing over his wig as he sits down next down to Honorius. You could smell his cloying perfume from here and you almost feel bad for Honorius as his nose crunches up in distaste.
You and Willow both glare at the man who so callously sealed your fate with a simple choice between identical, white slips but you soon focus back on the projector as hundreds of girls stream towards the stage. There's one that is faster, more brutal, than the rest. She yanks on hair, runs through gaps and fights her way to the front of the lead pack. By all but maybe half a second, she's the first to place her foot on the steps to the stage and peacekeepers block the rest out, forming an unbroken line behind her as a good chunk of the girls scream and sob, having failed to win the race and become the tribute. You think this is the most bizarre thing you've ever witnessed. In the recaps you've watched before they just show the final tributes for 1 and be done with it. You never knew this was how it happened.
Virgil is beaming as he asks for the winning girl's name. "And who would you be, young lady?"
She poses for the cameras and grins, a perfect set of blindingly white teeth showing for all the world to see. "I'm Adonia Starlight! This year's victor!" She giggles and twirls her curly blonde hair, twisting her body in just the right way that her cleavage from her revealing dress of sparkling light blue is prominently displayed.
Templesmith claps. "Oh, I already know my favorite!"
Honorius glares at the flamboyant man-child, gritting his teeth and spitting out, "You're the District 12 escort. You root for District 12. It's your job."
Templesmith acts as if he's been severely hurt, clutching his chest, before turning to you and Willow. "Well, of course I'm rooting for the both of you, but one must be realistic about these things. Oh, I remember how Cynthia, the escort for 5, poor woman, lost most of her savings betting on that hunk from District 6 last year. You can't count on these outer districts...entirely unreliable."
The three of you are glaring at him as he goes on and on about the terrible betting habits of his colleagues before Honorius interrupts him. "Escorts aren't allowed to bet, especially not against their district."
Templesmith giggles, swatting Honorius on the arm. If looks could kill… "Oh, don't be silly. No one pays attention to that rule. It only really applies to 1 and 2 anyway and Virgil and Lupo would never bet against their districts."
Thankfully, Templesmith falls silent when the last District 1 victor that you recognize as Laurel from the 39th games, picks an eager boy out of the crowd as they all clamor for her attention, bringing the "lucky" one up to the stage. He's the standard blond-haired, blue-eyed superhuman that District 1 always sends to the games.
Virgil chuckles. "I bet you couldn't resist her charms… Well, what's your name, son?"
"The name's Gleam Azoda and I'll be sure to knock 'em dead." He smiles for the cameras and strikes a heroic pose. That was the corniest fucking thing you've ever heard. He's tall and broad, about the same size as you but not as big as 10 or 4. You have no doubt that he's dangerous though. Ones never failed to be gorgeous and deadly in equal measure.
As the District 1 tributes bow and curtsy to a cheering crowd with roses of pink, white, and red falling around them, the scene returns to the commentator's booth while projections of all of the days reapings play in the background. Lucretia claps vigorously and looks like she can barely stop herself from bouncing up and down with excitement. "We have such a nice spread this year!"
"We sure do!" says Gaius, who smirks at the camera. "They better be prepared though because once they get in that arena, Lucy, it'll be positively barbaric!"
As Lucretia signs off with "Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor!", Honorius grunts. "Primordial arena, something hostile."
"How can you tell?" you ask.
Honorius narrows his eyes at you. "Beginning of time, barbaric...just some passing comments but they're intentional. This arena is going to be dangerous." He pauses for a few seconds before asking, "What did you make of the twos?"
Willow huffs. "Psycho killers…"
You consider your answer briefly. You don't think you could make good allies. They were too powerful, too confident, too brutal. You don't think you'd last a day before they decide that you were useless and cut you down. "I... I don't think an alliance would be worth it, even if they take me."
Honorius hums before nodding, his eyes gazing at you with something approaching approval. "I think the same. If the original female tribute, Livia, was still in it, I might suggest approaching her, but Thracia is a different breed. She despises weakness and there are several instances of harassment and bullying in her file. I don't believe you'd get along very well for very long and she'd win in a confrontation damn near every time. Slayte will follow her around like an overgrown, murderous puppy, so you can probably count him out too."
"What about 4?" you ask. "The girl."
Honorius nods, "It's a good idea but fours always rely on their district partner and between you and Tyde, three may be a crowd." He shakes his head. "We both know how that will end."
Willow speaks up. "What about the pregnant girl? It would be wrong not to try and protect her and…" She pauses like she's about to say something terrible. "...the Capitol people will want to send her help, won't they? We could benefit from that."
Honorius looks at her with a fake expression of shock. "So… you've got something between the ears, after all. I was wondering." He sighs. "Yes, the girl has meal ticket written all over her and everyone and their mother will be swarming her with alliance offers. Best to stay away for now, maybe chat with her a bit to let her know you're friendly but that's it. If you go straight for her in the arena to run off with her, 1 and 2 will have no trouble knocking you off and making it look like you were attacking her. This is a rare chance to play the hero and they'll take it if they can."
"What about the boy from 10? He looks strong." You think that if you want to hold off the careers, you'll need someone of his stature on your side.
"Maybe," Honorius drawls slowly. "But he's a blue-blooded rancher's kid. He might not want anything to do with a Seam rat from District 12. Be careful if you talk to him. He looks like he'll be willing to sell anyone downriver if it'll get him out of that arena."
"So, what now?" asks Willow. You're surprised that she seems to be engaging with Honorius at all, but you suppose that he's decided to be helpful to the both of you instead of shutting you out. You hope that Willow will come to see him as an asset like you have.
Honorius looks between the two of you. "Now, it's time to get something in your stomach. You're going to want to put on at least ten pounds before the games so eat as much as you can without making yourself sick. Then we'll have you get your rest. You're going to need it to deal with all the grandstanding in the Capitol tomorrow."
Templesmith claps his hands to get your attention. "Now, let's get to the dining car and have a bit of supper. These reapings simply take forever and I'm sure you're both just famished."
Honorius glares at him and grumbles "Why didn't I think of that?" under his breath as you follow the Capitol escort into the dining car.
You try your best to stop yourself from eating too much but it's all so good, Lamb stew, sweet cakes, roasted and fresh fruit and vegetables. You take your time savoring an orange at the end of your meal while Willow licks her fingers as she's eating a lamb shank with her hands. Templesmith is horrified at your lack of manners but you both honestly can't be bothered. You don't think table manners will help you win the games.
When it's time for bed, you change into the Capitol provided pajamas and some attendants take your clothes. You have a gut feeling that you'll never see your threadbare button up shirt and dark blue Community Home pants ever again. You're not too torn up about that but it's an odd thought.
You lay in this giant bed, the softest thing your skin has ever touched, and you can't sleep. How could you? You were going to die a whole lot sooner than you expected and you couldn't stop thinking about it. Would it be quick? Maybe you should just rush straight in. You were fast. Maybe you could get to a weapon first and a backpack, then book it. It was really happening, wasn't it? Was it just this afternoon you were reaped? You don't believe it. It feels like another life for another guy that just happened to be named Flint.
As you lay on your back and stare at the dark ceiling, you're almost in a manic state. You know if you don't get some sleep, it will ruin you, make you even more paranoid and obsessive. It had happened before. You were so used to thinking about your problems and coming up with a solution that your mind almost never stopped working. You had cracked once before when no matter what you did, all the medicine you bought, you still couldn't save them... You couldn't let that sort of thing happen in the games.
Bad memories, bad memories and your worst fears all come to play in the night, and they won't let you sleep. It's almost a relief when there's a knock on the door to your quarters. It's Willow. It has to be. You don't think you're going to get any sleep tonight and well… it would be nice to speak to someone from home. Even though you just left, you already miss it, and you know that Willow will be the only person left who understands at least for as long as she's alive… as long as you're alive…
You walk softly on the plush carpet with bare feet, feeling the soft, soft floor squish underneath you and open the door to see her standing awkwardly in the same blue pajamas that you were given. She looks up at you with an expression that reminds you of Heather when she got in some trouble with the butcher. She's lost. "I… I know you might think some things about me… I just think we should talk. Can I come in?"
You know it's technically against the rules, but you can't deny that you want the chance to speak with her as well. If you're not lucky, she might be your only option for an alliance, not that you wouldn't want to ally with her anyway. After you, she's your best hope for the future of District 12. You're certain that life would get much better with a victor in town. You step back and open the door even further to let her in. "Sure."
You think you're going to talk standing but before you know it, she's sitting on your bed, looking down at her hands. "I gave my baby sister a bath this morning. My hands still smell like the soap."
You think she's just trying to break the ice. You do the same. "I had to tell Briar to brush his hair three times. He likes it messy." You started to say it out of a sense of obligation but as you finish, you think about the kids at the Home and smile. It wasn't perfect but you had a little family of your own.
She looks up at you with a firm gaze as you sit down next to her. "When you said that I was just going to lay down and die… that wasn't true. I'm going to try and live for them. Don't you think I want to see them again? I just…whatever happens...I'm not going to be their whore too. I'm not going to smile and wave, pretending to be happy while they send me to my death."
Your strategy revolves around playing it smart though and how do victors win? They pander to the audience and get sponsors. "That's how the game is played, Willow."
Willow raises her voice, her grey eyes blazing with fire. "No, fuck that. They want to kill me and have me thank them for the opportunity to entertain them before I go? I don't think so! I'll kill if I have to, I'll try to survive, and I'm not going to kill you unless you make me. You want to work together, fine, we can work together but if you plan on hunting down scared kids in a pack of lunatics, you can count me out."
You shake your head and give her a pleading look. "I don't think that's going to be an option… and that's not something I want anyway. I didn't want any of this."
She breathes deeply for a few seconds. "Okay then, what do you want?"
Your voice is soft and sincere. "I just want to survive and if I can't, I want to help someone who's going to make a difference, like you for the district, or that pregnant girl for the baby."
Willow seems to relax and sighs in palpable relief. "We're of the same mind then. Let's survive together then. We agree on who to take on as allies and don't split up, even in training. We work together and don't kill each other. If we're the last two, we go our separate ways and let the gamemakers decide."
You tilt your head and give her a considering look. "You've thought this all out, haven't you?"
She chuckles humorlessly. "Haven't been thinking of much else." She reaches out her hand and gives you a small smile. "So... partners?"
[ ] You clasp Willow's hand and nod firmly, sharing her smile. "Partners." (You don't think you could bring yourself to kill her anyway. Even if you managed to return home, you'd be disgraced all your life, like all the other victors who murdered their partners. Also, you can't afford to pass this alliance up. Even if you find others, you need to think about your district first.)
[ ] You clasp Willow's hand and nod firmly. "Partners." (half-lie) (You'll work with her for training at least but if you can get an alliance with 4 or 10, you're not above leaving her out in the cold if she doesn't agree. Even though you wish her all the best, you can't let her hold you back from winning.)
[ ] You clasp her hand. "Partners." (lie) (You'll let her think you're on her side for now but when that opening cannon goes off, all bets are off. You'll do whatever you have to do to win and if it comes down to the two of you, you're sure as snow not going to leave it up to the whims of the gamemakers. After all, what do they always say… "Ladies First!")
[ ] You shake your head. "I'm sorry… I can't. At least not yet." (You can't let her dictate what alliances you form and an alliance in the arena could spell disaster if she can't keep up. It might make her not trust you at all, but you don't want to lie to her, tell her you're partners, and then abandon her when the cannon goes off. You have your honor.)
4-HOUR-MORATORIUM!!!
