The Training Center had a tower designed exclusively for the tributes and their teams. That would be their home until the actual Games began. Each district had an entire floor. After stepping into the elevator, a simple press of your district's number would take you there.

Primrose had ridden a similar elevator a couple of times in the Justice Building back in District 12. Once when Katniss received the medal for their father's death and then yesterday to say her final good-byes to her friends and family. But that one was a dark thing that hoisted itself up at a crawling pace, creating loud creaks with every moment to distract from its pungent aroma. Contrarily, the walls of the Training Center elevator were made of glistening crystal, allowing its passengers to watch the people on the ground floor shrink to ants as they shot up into the air. The ride was exhilarating, so much so that Primrose actually asked Effie Trinket if she could ride it again. With wide eyes, she tugged on the hem of her sleeves profusely to grab her attention. Effie smiled at her like she was a cute little kid, which reminded Primrose why she preferred Cinna over just about every person she'd met from the Capitol. 

Apparently, Effie Trinket's duties did not conclude at the station. She and Haymitch would be overseeing them right into the arena. That thought eased Primrose as now she could be counted on to corral them around to places on time; whereas none of them had seen Haymitch ever since he agreed to help them on the train.

"Probably passed out somewhere," Peeta joked as Primrose pointed this out to him.

Effie Trinket, however, seemed to be flying high. Of course, they were the first team she'd ever chaperoned that made a splash at the opening ceremonies. She was complimentary about not just their costumes, but how the pair had conducted themselves. And, to hear her tell it, Effie knew everyone who was anyone in the Capitol and had been talking the duo up all day, trying to win them sponsors.

"I've been very mysterious, though," she sighed, her eyes squinted half shut. "Because, of course, Haymitch hasn't bothered to tell me your strategies."

"But," she continued, visibly calming down, "I've done my best with what I had to work with. How you've both successfully struggled to overcome the barbarism of your district."

Barbarism? That was ironic coming from a woman helping to prepare them for slaughter. At least, Primrose knew that was what Katniss would have said. 

"Everyone has their reservations, naturally. You being from the coal district. But I said, and this was very clever of me, I said, 'Well, if you put enough pressure on coal it turns to pearls!'" Effie beamed at Peeta and Primrose so brilliantly that they had no choice but to respond enthusiastically to her cleverness even though it was wrong.

Coal didn't turn to pearls. Those grew in shellfish. Possibly she meant coal turned to diamonds, but that was untrue, too. Katniss once told Primrose that they had some sort of machine in District 1 that could turn graphite into diamonds. But they didn't mine graphite in District 12. That was part of District 13's job until they were destroyed." 

"Unfortunately, I can't seal the sponsor deals for you. Only Haymitch can do that,"scoffed Effie grimly. "But don't worry, I'll get him to the table at gunpoint if necessary."

Effie Trinket was certainly determined. Primrose admired that; it reminded her of Katniss, although in a different way.

Primrose's quarters were larger than her entire house back home. They were plush, like the train car, but contrarily had a plethora of automatic gadgets that Primrose promised herself to try before going to the arena. The shower alone had a panel with more than a hundred options. She could choose regulating water temperature, pressure, soaps, shampoos, scents, oils, and massaging sponges. When she would step out on a mat, heaters come on that blow-dried her body, and Primrose's new best friend– the Hair Box, she decided to call it– was there, too. She programmed the closet for an outfit to her taste; she found herself in a cream-colored dress that reached her ankles, sandals of a similar hue, and a strange hairstyle called a fish braid that had been displayed with step-by-step instructions. Primrose decided she liked it, although it looked different from the braids her mother did for her. 

The windows zoomed in and out on parts of the city at her command. She needed to only whisper a type of food from a gigantic menu into a mouthpiece and it would appear, hot and steamy, before her in less than a minute. Primrose tried a few items from the Light Snacks section; her favorite, she decided, were these cheesy, crunchy orange things labeled Cheetos on the bag. Eventually, she had to leave the precious bag of orange goodness when Effie called her to dinner. 

Peeta, Cinna, and Portia were standing out on a balcony that overlooked the Capitol when Primrose and Effie entered the dining room. Dinner, Primrose had gathered, wasn't really about food, it was about planning out their strategies, and both Cinna and Portia had already proven how valuable they were. 

A silent young man dressed in a white tunic offered them all stemmed glasses of wine. Primrose turned it down immediately in the most polite way possible. She'd seen how those drinks corrupted Haymitch. Despite knowing her death was creeping closer to her day by day, Primrose didn't want to even risk being like him.

Haymitch showed up just as dinner was being served. Primrose didn't fully pay attention to him until every platter was on the table, as she'd been too interested in the sheer amount and variety of delicacies being placed in front of her. It looked as if Haymitch had had his own stylist, because he was clean and groomed and about as sober as Primrose had ever seen him. To no one's surprise, he didn't refuse the offer of wine, although he didn't drain it as Primrose originally thought he would. Was he really trying to stay sober for them? 

Cinna and Portia seemed to have a civilizing effect on Haymitch and Effie. They were addressing each other decently, which made Primrose feel a little more than relieved; they both had nothing but praise for their stylists' opening act. While they made small talk, discussing the weather and whatnot, Primrose concentrated on the meal. It was absolutely luxurious; mushroom soup, bitter greens with tomatoes the size of peas, rare roast beef sliced as thin as paper, noodles in a green sauce, cheese that melted on her tongue served with sweet blue grapes. The servers, all young people dressed in white tunics, move wordlessly to and from the table, keeping the platters and glasses full. They never spoke a word, not even to ask how the meal was like the attendants on the train had. They simply nodded to one another to signal who knew what. 

"Why don't they talk?" Primrose asked Effie in a hushed whisper after a red-headed girl had poured Primrose some fizzy dark brown drink with bubbles. Primrose loved bubbles. 

"They're Avoxes, dear," Effie answered, mimicking her volume. 

"What's an Avox?" Primrose questioned, her curiosity getting the better of her. 

"Someone who committed a crime. They cut her tongue so she can't speak," Effie enunciated slowly, in that way that Primrose hated, the tone that suggested she was speaking to a clueless child. "She's a traitor to the Capitol. You're not to speak to one of them unless it's to give an order." 

Primrose was disturbed. What could anyone have possibly done that was so bad, they cut out their tongue? No one deserved a fate like that. Not even a traitor. Primrose should've felt scared of the tongueless people who held her food in their hands, but instead she only felt miserable. Most of them were young, ranging from Katniss age to Gale's. Their lives had been wasted away. Instead of achieving great things like they could have, they were condemned to a life of silence, doomed to forever serve the tributes of the Hunger Games. Primrose wondered if they had it worse than her. 

She snapped out of her thoughts when a girl set a gorgeous-looking cake on the table and deftly lit it. It blazed up, and the flames flickered around the edges for a while until it finally went out. Primrose was impressed; she'd never seen flames like that. However, her smile faded when she remembered that flames like that were probably the last thing her father had seen. 

After eating the cake, they all moved into a sitting room to watch the replay of the opening ceremonies that was being broadcast. A few of the other couples made a nice impression, but none of them could hold a candle to Primrose and Peeta. Even their own party let out an "Ahh!" as the television showed them coming out of the Remake Center. 

"Tomorrow morning is the first training session. Meet me for breakfast and I'll tell you exactly how I want you to play it," Haymitch informed Peeta and Primrose. "Now go get some sleep while the grown-ups talk." 

Peeta and Primrose made their way to their rooms. Peeta was silent, his arms swinging by his sides as he walked. His stroll halted once they reached Primrose door, he waited until she was inside before speaking. 

"Good night, Prim." 

"Good night, Peeta." 

Primrose offered him a smile before she closed her door. She still didn't know how or why he knew her nickname, but she was too tired to think about it. She changed into pajamas of pink silk with tiny beads for buttons. She also adorned a pair of fuzzy socks, while unnecessary they were admittedly adorable. After slipping them on, she quickly got into bed. It didn't take her long to fall asleep; she dreamt of Katniss, her mother, and home.