victorbychance | Fourth Painting: [Action/Voice]

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Fourth Painting: [Action/Voice]

[A new sign has gone up at the bakery.

The wood of the bakery’s new sign is slightly stained with leftover coffee, giving it a lovely rich brown color. With the shellac finish, it will be practically weatherproof. Such a luxury would have been expensive beyond belief back in District 12, even for a baker’s family.

The sign could be considered quaint, but falls short of being trite. The border is done with a fine brush in grass greens; a winding vine with yellow flowers. At the bottom, a pile of bread loaves. One is the sort of loaf 12 was famous for back home, a sort of drop biscuit. Another is the seeded loaf of District 11. Accompanying them are two cheese buns, as well as an assortment of cakes, cookies, and tarts, all of which are actually offered inside the bakery. It has a provincial look to it, natural and fresh, as if even on a rainy day one could find the sun and hot bread inside this building.

The word "BAKERY" is in the palest of blues, with a slightly darker blue shading the letters. He stands on a ladder to hang it up in front of the building, a look of intense concentration on his face.

Later, he puts a message out over the journals.]

Thanks to everyone who helped at the bakery while the Kin'corans were here. Actually, I could still use help now that they're gone. There are about three hundred people in the village, and lots of them like fresh bread. If you want work but don't have any experience, I don't mind teaching. I mean, even I started out washing dishes.

So who's up for it?

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[It's a glimpse out of the corner of her eye, but she sees it. The slight tremor of his hand when he offers her his arm. She's taken back, for a second, to the first time they held hands. The nerves and fears and excitement of he chariot ride, presenting themselves as a united front, two tributes agreeing to be seen as a team. There's no one to see them now as she links her arm in his. No one to know how his own nerves soothe here. He's nervous, too. Peeta, who rarely ever seems that way.]

Yeah.

[More ready than she would have ever expected.]

[All right then. He leads her into the restaurant. A restaurant. Back home, he might have made her a picnic. Ooh, that's an idea for another day. But here, money is no object. There's nothing keeping him from giving her a perfect night except himself.

They're seated at a table for two. Peeta immediately orders hot chocolate for them both. When the server leaves, Peeta smiles broadly at his date. His date!]

[She let's him lead her into a restaurant and to a table. It's what she's supposed to do, right? She had tried to make time between her other errands this afternoon to go to the library and find a book on dating and courtship. By the time she had, she had little more than five minutes to skim through it. But tonight had to be perfect. It had to be. Peeta deserved this.

The order of hot chocolate is met with a smile, even before she catches him beaming at her. The drink will always be one of her favorites, a luxury she had never tried before the Games. But when she catches him smilin a her, her own smile widens. Good. That means that he's enjoying this, doesn't it?

She opens the menu, glancing away from his gaze only briefly.]

Have you been here before?

A couple of times on lunch breaks. That's a thing here, by the way. Lunch breaks.

[He opens the menu as well, but doesn't want to look away from her.] Some of the food is practically Capitol-quality, but the difference is that it's available to everyone.

[Fifteen minutes in the mine to eat your meal. Less if your overseer was in a bad mood. There really wasn't such a thing as a lunch break in District Twelve. Not outside of schooling, not that she could remember. Why would anyone care that much about them?

But she forces herself not to think of that. Not today, not here with Peeta. Not on her first date ever. Today's a day to focus on living. On the here and now. There's been more than enough time to mourn the past.]

I had a hamburger once. It's ground meat on bread. [A quick glance down at the menu and then her attention's back on Peeta.] With lettuce and tomato and some kind of sauce. Just as good as the things we at in the Capitol.

I had the curry a few weeks ago. [He reaches to point to the mango chutney curry on her menu.]

[She remembers the curried stews she sampled in the Capitol. The way the spices tingled her tongue, the assault of flavors that were unlike any she had sampled before. It had been so, so good.

She smiles broadly at him.] I think I'll try that then.

[He grins. Then, unable to resist, leans across the table to pluck a kiss from her lips...and the server comes back with the hot chocolates. He doesn't abort the kiss, but does smile apologetically at the server afterwards as if to say, "Sorry, but you can see I couldn't help myself."]

I'd like the chicken pot pie, and the lady would like the curry.

[This has been the hardest part to adjust to. Public displays of affection. But as soon as their lips meet, she's lost and it's surprisingly easy once again to forget about the restaurant around them.

Until Peeta pulls away, that is, leaving her to first puzzle why. The riddle is solved as soon as the chocolate is placed on the table and she slouches down a little in her seat. This shouldn't bother her, not after all the public kisses they shared in the Games. But this still feels so utterly different.

Katniss doesn't look up again until the waitress has gone to place their orders. She offers Peeta a shy grin.] Thank you for ordering.

[A little chuckle.] It's fine. I just...want to treat you like you deserve tonight.

[The hot chocolate has whipped cream on top. He picks up his spoon and begins to stir it in.]

[Like she deserves tonight. The words echo in her head as she mimics Peeta's actions, dissolving the rich cream into the hot liquid.]

You deserve it. [The words are blurted out but honestly meant.] You deserve for tonight to be perfect, Peeta. I can't think of anyone who deserves it more.

Now you know, Katniss, [he says with playful wryness,] we're not supposed to argue on a date.

[She recognizes that teasing tone of his. It makes her lips quirk in a fond and playful grin. She tilts her head a little, pretending to consider his words.]

Really? What else are we not supposed to do?

Well. This is my first date, too, but I'm pretty sure we're not supposed to talk about work. Or anything else depressing.

[His first date. And her own. Would this have been Gale's, if situations had been different? She doesn't think so. But it's Peeta's. So many firsts with Peeta. Maybe it's little wonder that he has a way of making her feel special in a way no one else can. Or maybe that's just a quality that's purely him.]

The book said compliments were always a good conversation starter.

[...the book. Yeah, she hadn't planned on mentioning that.]

[A pause, then a little smile.]

You read a book about dating?

Skimmed. [said awkwardly and a tad embarrassed]. I really wanted tonight to be perfect for you.

[Actually, Peeta is starting to beam at her. He takes a sip of chocolate before speaking.]

That's...actually really sweet.

[she takes the spoon out of her mug and takes a small sip, all the better to hide behind. That smile and those words make her feel all fluttery inside. Not the nervous butterflies from earlier, but something else. Something warmer and nicer and slightly similar to the hunger that occurs when she kisses him.

She smile back from behind her mug.]

I'm glad you think so.

[He grins.]

The dress is beautiful. Cinna would gush.

It's not as beautiful as one of his creations. [just a simple statement of facts. No dress will ever compare to something Cinna could design. Not ever. Her face clouds over a little when she continues. The mug plaed back on the table. She never told him, did she?]

Snow killed him. Peacekeepers came when I was in the lift. They beat him and dragged him away and... he's dead, too. Because of me. Because of that wedding dress. [Not depressing, not depressing. She tries to force a smile.]. He would like this, wouldn't he? And hate those pants you showed up here wearing.

[...That was the worst save ever, Katniss.

Peeta stares at her for a moment, then swallows.]

He...oh. [Cinna. It seems like he thought that was the case, from somewhere, but hearing her describe it just...]

Do you think I should change?

[she shakes her head quickly. She doesn't want him to, doesn't want him to go anywhere until the morning when he wakes up to bake and she to hunt.]

No. I like it. I like you just as you are.

Cinna... He'd be proud of us, wouldn't he?

I...I don't know, Katniss. I didn't know him as well as you did.

[She probably shouldn't have expected an answer. Maybe she just needed to voice things aloud. It seemed to help somehow. And there was no one else she could think of talking to, would want to talk to.]

He liked you. I... I want to think he would. And that he'd be happy for us.

Fourth Painting: [Action/Voice]

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