<div class="floatleft">(http://images.wikia.com/dragonball/images/4/44/Olivia_Wilde_-_my_heroine.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong>Rybbon Latimer, mentor<br/><strong>With:</strong>Garrett Wylder<br/><strong>Where:</strong>backstage at the table<br/><br/>Whatever the reality, his words soothed her slightly, making the guilt of expecting his demise rest behind her curiosity. She was looking forward to observing from the platform, watching the tributes practice and learn. She knew Garrett would be one to review constantly, his ability to deflect attention already exceptional. She anticipated some long hours after the training time was over, watching the individual tributes from the recordings, looking for signs of potential and the desire to live.<br/><br/>She lifted her gloved hand in acknowledgement of his parting but didn’t immediately rise herself. She scanned the room slowly, watching other tributes eating and glaring at each other surreptitiously, moving toward the elevators. The time was coming – the training was about to begin. The pregame show had started with the parade and would end at the announcement of their training scores. And she was a reluctant participant in branding these poor souls with a number that essentially meant nothing. Only their actual performance in the Arena would count for anything.<br/><br/>But her involvement was necessary for the Capitol to have their pleasures, to judge by proxy whether one tribute would give them good entertainment or would be a dud. And in doing her job, she’d be offering her help to whoever had either a likelihood of winning or at least making the best show before dying.<br/><br/><em>Heavens,</em>sometimes she hated this part. But once the Game began, she’d be too busy to worry over what had passed. She’d be concentrated on angling for whatever assistance she could gain or buy for her tribute from outside the Game. That was the bread and butter, the adrenaline rush for her. No matter how they finally fared, she would know that she’d done her best to help them – that she’d done her job. The better they fared or showed, the better her rewards after, and while that was usually incentive enough some years, she commonly had to weep for several days when losing a tribute that had ended up close within her heart.<br/><br/>She hated that feeling... loss.<br/><br/>Maybe she should work toward offering her service as a mentor to one of the careers this time – no danger of weeping after they died and she’d yet to pick a winner. Maybe this was the year. She moved from the table, glancing to the huge view screen behind her. Her eyes narrowed against the video of past Games before turning away to join the other mentors and sponsors on the observation deck.<br/>