Once they disappeared down the hallway, Molly dragged me over to mingle with the others. I really didn’t want to, but I met all of her little mentor friends. I didn’t know how it was possible to have friends from other districts, but they acted like they’ve known each other since birth. She made me shake hands with Teresa, Victoria, Meghan, Carrie, and a whole bunch of other girls that I didn’t remember. They all seemed to love me, but every time one of them seemed to want to talk to me I’d mumble and look away. In my time with this group I found out one thing, I was able to spot an empty set of chairs on the opposite side of the room, and they looked very inviting. I excused myself, claiming to have to use the bathroom but made a beeline for the chairs before someone else could come and ruin the seclusion. It was nice a quiet back here, I could look out a small window at the colorful people/aliens, and it didn’t smell nearly as strong. I wondered how John was doing with the stylists. I knew he’d hate the entire process, but I was sort of looking forward to him in makeup. I didn’t know what it was with John that made my positive emotions out, humor, excitement, sentiment even. I never cared once about anyone else’s amazement, like if Molly was excited over a little puppy I’d look away with a scowl, but if it was John I’d laugh and pet the dog with him. Maybe it was the whole mentor thing, but I was getting much too attached to him. I knew that there was a tiny chance he would make it out, and I knew that if he died my heart would break. Continue along this path and I would be downright suicidal.
“This seat taken?” asked a voice above me. I looked up to see another mentor with blondish gray hair and a kind face.
“Yes.” I muttered, not wanting to be bothered.
“By who?”
“Pick a person.” I decided, waving my hand carelessly.
“I pick me.” he decided, sitting in the chair next to a small table. I sighed; he didn’t really take a hint did he? The man picked up one of the magazines from a pile on the table, flipping through it carelessly.
“Hate this place.” He decided, an attempt to start conversation apparently.
“I detest this place.” I added, one upping the negativity.
“You’re last year’s winner right?” he asked. I hummed my agreement. “I called you Mr. Frowns, what’s your real name?”
“Mr. Frowns?” I asked. I did frown a lot, but I didn’t think I was worth that name.
“You say with a frown. See where I’m going here?” he pointed out.
“I’m Sherlock Holmes.” I answered.
“Greg Lestrade, nice to meet you.” He said, holding out a hand. I just looked at it with a bored expression, not shaking his hand. “Okay then.” He decided, pulling his hand back. “You were really good in the games, the whole underdog thing.”
“Just staying alive.” I pointed out.
“I think this will be my sixth year being a victor.” He said, counting his fingers and nodding. “Ya, six.” He confirmed.
“Brilliant.” I said sarcastically.
“So why are you sitting here alone?” he asked.
“Obviously I’m not alone anymore.”
“But I saw you talking to all of those girls, what went wrong?”
“I wasn’t talking to them, they were talking at me. I don’t care for people.” I said, casting him a glare, trying to pass the hint. But apparently he wasn’t the brightest, so he kept talking.
“Who’s you’re tribute?” he asked.
“John Watson, District Twelve.” I said simply.
“I’ve got some Jeff guy from Five, honestly I don’t think he’ll last the blood bath.” Greg shrugged, as if it was just another day. The thought of John being struck down in the beginning made me shudder a little bit.
“That’s a positive thought.” I muttered.
“And you’re all positive.” He pointed out. Once again I glared at him, but he just smiled at me. He was beginning to get extremely annoying.
“I only state the truth.” I muttered. “And a lot of people don’t see the truth as positive.”
“I don’t think there’s one positive thing about this whole thing.” Greg decided.
“No, there’s not.” I agreed. That means you, idiot! Go away! Greg sighed, as if trying to think about another possible topic to bore me with. I cherished that moment of silence, but knew it wouldn’t last.
“Could you introduce me to some of those women then?” he asked with a smile, as if we were already best friends.
“I think you’re quite able to introduce yourself.” I pointed out. It wasn’t supposed to be mean or sarcastic; I seriously doubted he didn’t know his own name. He had successfully introduced himself to me, and I hated everyone, just because of the change in gender I didn’t see what the problem was.
“I’m guessing you’re not the type to date.” Greg guessed. I gave him a very shocked look. Was he implying what I thought?
“Uh… Gram,”
“Greg.” He pointed out. Yes, whatever.
“As much as I am flattered, I am not interested in going out with….”
“Wait a second, um, no, absolutely not, I meant you aren’t the type to date other people, not that I was asking you out or anything.” he pointed out. I nodded, very much relived. I hated him as a acutance, I couldn’t imagine him as a boyfriend. Not that I wanted to anyway.
“Changing the subject completely, how did you end up winning your games anyway?” Greg asked.
“I don’t like to talk or think about the games, I’m sure you know quite well and if not I’ll probably be on YouTube.” I pointed out.
“I don’t like thinking about my games much, the first couple of years I got such bad nightmares it was almost unbearable.” Greg agreed.
“Last night I woke the entire train up because, in my sleep, I had decapitated the wooden bedpost with a knife, apparently thinking it was a tribute.” I said quickly. I don’t know why I revealed that slightly personal information; he seemed the type to not be able to keep his mouth shut. It seemed like I was challenging him to who had it worse, not that it was a good competition to win.
“Oh my god, that seriously sucks, did anyone get hurt?” he asked, looking actually worried for the wellbeing of the District Twelve train gang.
“The bed did.” I pointed out. He laughed, but shut himself up when he saw I was serious. I noticed Molly coming over, and had a slight hope that she would let me leave. Greg seemed to sit up straighter in his chair and smiled at her as she approached.
“Sorry to interrupt, but Sara and Anthea are in the conference room, they have a couple of ideas for the parade.” She pointed out, her eyes wandering from me to Greg in happy suspicion. I groaned, but got to my feet. I’d rather be stuck in a corner talking to one person than in a room with about 10 other… things.
“See you later Sherlock!” Greg said happily, but I just waved halfheartedly and followed Molly down the hallway.
“You made a friend, that’s great!” she said excitedly.
“Not my friend, some annoying guy that wouldn’t leave, big difference.” I pointed out.
“Well, you’re talking, that’s a start.” She pointed out. I just rolled my eyes, annoyed to think she considered that Greg person to be my friend. We walked through a fancy automatic door and into a room that I wanted to gas mask in. There were a lot of people huddled around a table; I spotted Mrs. Hudson arguing over something with my old stylist, Sara. Irene was getting in the action, seemingly upset about something, but she was always upset so I didn’t see a difference there. Both of the tributes were wearing dressing gowns, like the ones in the doctor’s office, except these just looked like plain white sheets. John looked very uncomfortable, he was sitting in a chair with his arms crossed, looking around the room but keeping his mouth shut. I walked over to him, moving the chair next to him closer since it looked like Irene was going to start tackling people.
“How’d it go?” I asked, looking at his face for the first time. The most immediate difference was the eyeliner and that weird dark stuff they put on eyelashes, something with an m, but his eyes stood out immensely.
“I’m wearing makeup.” He pointed out.
“And you look wonderful.” I laughed. But behind my laugh I was actually serious, he did look quite attractive. If I actually cared about relationships I think it would’ve made this whole thing a lot more awkward.
“I have lipstick on!” he hissed. I raised an eyebrow at him.
“I had all that too last year, it was repulsive.” I agreed.
“Does it come off?” 
“Eventually, but you have to keep it on until after the parade.” I pointed out. He groaned, poking his cheek lightly.
“I can feel the blush flaking.”
“That’s why you’re not supposed to touch it!” I said obviously. He frowned, looking mortified.
“Don’t be so embarrassed, look at the style crews!” I pointed out. They were absolutely ridiculous, piercings, tattoos, hair in such weird shapes I thought they must be plastic, outfits that made my eyes hurt.
“I’m a guy, I’m not supposed to wear makeup though.” He defended.
“That one’s a guy.” I guessed, pointing at one that was wearing completely orange.
“Really?” John asked with confusion, looking over the arguing people to get a better look. “I really can’t tell.” He decided.
“My point exactly. You still look normal, just, enhanced.” I said, flaring my hands out for exaggeration.
“It almost looks like you wear makeup too.” he pointed out.
“Are you serious?” I asked, a little bit offended.
“Do you?” he asked with a small laugh.
“No of course not!” I hissed, rubbing my cheeks to show him.
“Well then you’re very pale.” He decided. “And have dark eyelashes.”
“Was that a complement?” I asked.
“I guess it was.” John agreed.
“Why thank you.” I said, doing my best to mimic a girl’s hair flip with my short hair, which made John laugh for real this time.  
“Sherlock dear, what do you think of this outfit?” Mrs. Hudson asked, holding out a diagram for me to look at. It was some type of jumpsuit thing, so I just nodded my approval.
“You didn’t even read it!” she debated, shoving the paper in my hand. I looked over it, seeing that it was a completely golden suit, and according to the little scribble in the corner, it was supposed to glow, like a light in the mines.
“That’s good, ya, I like it.” I agreed, passing the paper to John. “You’ll be little rays of sunshine.”
“Or hellfire. I guess it’s better than being a pile of coal.” He agreed, handing the paper back to Mrs. Hudson.
“I’ve got two yes’s over here!” she announced, making Irene wail with her complains.
“I can tell you’re very into this.” I observed.
“It’s pathetic.” He groaned.
“Want to find a coffee shop?” I suggested.
“I’d love to find my clothes.” He added, gesturing to the sheet he was wearing. I looked at the table, now Irene was screaming, my eardrums pounding in my head. Apparently there was ‘too much fabric’ and they were preventing her from playing the role she needed to win. Mrs. Hudson and Molly were trying to take a peaceful approach, but the stylists were yelling right back.
“They’ll never notice, come on.” I decided.
“Sherlock I don’t have any pants on!” John growled.
“Too much information John, come on, let’s go find them.” I insisted. “Just act natural.” I added in a hiss. I had some money in my pocket from the district, so, as unsuspicious as we could, John and I slipped from the room.
“Aren’t you supposed to be a mentor?” he pointed out as we walked through the hallway. John was leading, looking for the room he was in previously.
“I’m supposed to be yes, I never said I was good at it though.” I defended. He stifled a laugh and kept walking.
“In here.” he said, peaking through the tinted glass. “It’s empty, I won’t be a moment.” He slipped inside, and, as he promised, he was out in less than five minutes, in the clothes he had been wearing previously.
“You smeared your makeup.” I pointed out.
“Shut up.” he hissed. Now that he was in normal clothes we could look totally casual walking out of the front glass doors and into the city. It smelled awful, but I knew I wouldn’t lose John in the crowd. He was the only one not wearing neon colors from head to toe. Some of the people stopped to say hi to him and ask questions, he even took a selfie with one of them involuntarily; I had to pull him away.
“You look too abnormal, obviously a tribute given the building we just left.” I pointed out.
“Are we allowed to just leave like that?” he asked nervously.
“I’ll take the blame.” I assured, leading him down the road and trying to find any coffee shops. I knew the Capital people drank it like it was liquid gold, so there had to be shops on every corner. I pushed through the crowd, some giving me annoyed looks and some looking like they wanted to give me their number, but I ignored both. John stayed close behind me, taking advantage of the space I provided in the crowd.
“Here we go.” I said, looking up at a small shop. We walked in, and indeed it smelled like coffee. Ever since the games I’ve had a taste for the stuff. It was very energetic, I didn’t know why I liked it, but every time I drank a cup my mood improved. A little bell rung on top of the door, but I noticed there was no actual bell, but some type of automatic system. As with all coffee shops, it was set up as more of a home than anything. There were armchairs and fires, people lounging on almost every one of them and sipping their hot beverages.
“Ever had coffee before?” I asked as we joined the back of the line.
“No sir.” He said, looking up at the selections. It looked like a blackboard, but sometimes I saw things switched out by themselves, so it must be automated.
“Don’t call me sir, it’s weird.” I decided.
“You’re a mentor, it’s only polite.”
“I’m only two years older than you.” I pointed out.
“Still older.”
“Why am I even having this conversation.” I muttered to myself. The line moved quite fast since everything was basically machines, except for the people behind the register. I ordered a caramel latte for myself, and John just got a vanilla creamer, only warm milk with vanilla. I had tried to get him to order something stronger, but he insisted that he wanted to sleep tonight. That’s part of the reason I drank coffee, to help me stay up later to avoid the nightmares. Once we got our drinks we sat at a two seated chair in the window, so we could people watch and so if the rest of the people come looking for us it would be hard to miss. I sipped my drink cautiously but persistently, while John just blew into his drink and stirred it to try to get it cooled down.
“You are such a sissy.” I laughed.
“What am I supposed to do?” he defended.
“You’re supposed to drink it!” I pointed out, demonstrating with my own cup in case he forgot how to. He rolled his eyes, but sipped the drink.
“It’s good, a little sweet though.” He decided, looking out the window. I noticed there were lip marks from the lipstick or whatever he had on left on his cup, but I laughed silently to myself and didn’t point it out.
“How long do you think we’ve got before they come looking?” he asked.
“Who knows? Molly will probably notice first, she’s one to like everyone’s opinions.”
“Will they be mad?” he asked.
“I don’t see why they should be, we both agreed on the light thing.” I pointed out.
“Ya, but wonder if there’s another one, or if Irene threatens everyone until they have to give in. I’m not going in that parade with just a loincloth thank you very much.” He hissed. I tried to hide my laugher because he looked pretty upset, but I couldn’t help it really. I hadn’t laughed in a year or so, and here I was cracking up with some guy I met yesterday.
“Well, would you rather here or there?” I asked.
“Here.” he muttered guiltily, taking another sip of his drink.
“You’ve got a mustache.” I pointed out. He groaned, wiping his face carelessly with the back of his hand.
“Now don’t mess up that makeup.” I pointed out. John just glared, but I smiled at him innocently.
“You are a serious jerk.” He decided.
“Oh don’t take it like that, you’re beautiful.” I assured. Now even he couldn’t hide a smile. The moment was ruined though, by two very angry women banging on the window.