"The Games?" Janiel asked breathlessly. "They are to begin immediately?" she sounded stupid but Day Z knew she was simply dismayed. It was one thing to talk so calmly about dying but for it to be an reality was another thing.<br/><br/>The stylists were scurrying around trying to compensate for the lack of fancy costumes that would compliment their District. Without giving their tributes a decided advantage, they wanted to at least give a nod to who they were are people. They were measuring and adding and making Rye and Janiel try on and then measuring again. One stylist joked that Day Z could fit Janiel's uniform and if Janiel tired too easily that he would use Day Z for a model.<br/><br/><br/>Rye refused to talk or to cooperate other than to tell the stylists to add a couple extra loops for handled weapons, like an ax or a club. Pins in mouth, they nodded their heads and finished his costume in short order. Janiel's they worked on most of the night. She finally became to ill to remain and poked and prodded Day Z into submission while they outfitted that uniform.<br/><br/><br/>When the clock struck midnight, the stylist filed out. Day Z and Rye sat at the table eating a bedtime snack. Probably the last bite of relaxed food the Rye would have for a few days.<br/><br/><br/>"Win this Game." Day Z abruptly blurted to Rye.<br/><br/>His eyebrows shot up.<br/><br/><br/>"Go hang yourself, Z" he said to her and stormed from the room.