<div class="floatleft">(http://i179.photobucket.com/albums/w310/Sparrowhawke/02958c73-a083-4d4d-99ae-2a4ea5a76c9a_zps4d0a3f6b.jpg) (http://i179.photobucket.com/albums/w310/Sparrowhawke/Garrett1_zpsce231e4c.jpg)</div><strong>Who:</strong>Garrett Wylder<br/><strong>With:</strong>Rybbon Latimer, Caligus Occisus<br/><strong>Where:</strong>Backstage<br/><br/>Garrett’s eyes shone for just a moment as he took in both Rybbon’s and Caligus’ reactions. They were both enjoyable for entirely different reasons. Rybbon’s showed the potential of a mentor, and Caligus... Well, he enjoyed that reaction for entirely personal reasons. His smile remained as Caligus spoke again, spewing out concern that Garrett had no need for. He remained silent, instead, continuing to watch the pair.<br/><br/>Once again the other tribute had posed a question to which the answer could well be useful. The other twenty two, one from his district, young men and women that statistics stated would be dead within a few weeks. Her response wasn’t quite as useful, this time. She only said what he supposed should have been obvious. They would have to wait, go down to that room where they would train the tributes to kill each other and survive in turn.<br/><br/>He did smile, however, when Rybbon commented on his costume. “I was all dusty.” It had itched somewhat, and it had taken some convincing to get him to leave it alone, not to smear it all about and ruin the impression of musculature they had created. “I think I look better now.” He leaned forward, moving to take his plate once again. His stomach had settled, and he could sense that they would be moving on soon. He wanted to get a little more food in his belly before that happened.