say anything (open)

[ivan michael flyrose]

How stupid was he? Believing his punishment would end once he could no longer talk. You would have thought he was just another naive Capitol citizen. It shouldn't have really surprised him that he was assigned to work in the remake center, where his family members worked. But it did surprise him. And it hurt.

Ivan kept the scowl on his face that clearly showed his displeasure at this assignment. He pushed the heavy cart full of make over supplies down the hall to the room where he was supposed to drop it off. He should have just ran for it when he had the chance. Once they questioned his family, they would have found nothing suspicious. He never told them his plans. He had learned long ago not to trust them. Becoming an avox was the last nail in that coffin.

Ivan turned a corner sharply and grinned as the wheel squealed and left a dirty black streak on the polished and pristine floor. He was approaching the room. The room where his sister worked or studied or whatever she did now. He had no contact with his family, and even though it missed them, he liked it that way. No sympathy, no pitying, nothing. He hoped they felt bad. He hoped they suffered. Just a little.

Ivan knocked on the door to announce his arrival and then opened it, keeping his eyes down like a good avox and wheeled the cart into the room, shutting the door with one hand and stopping the cart in the front of the room. He stood by it, his head bowed and his hand clasped and waited for his orders. Ivan made a quick survey of feet, the only thing he could see, and noticed that the room was sparsely populated. Odd, what with new tributes arriving every day.