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tw:thoughts on suicide
"Can I come in?" Zoya spoke from the other side of Peetas door, knowing he'd have to recognize her voice and didn't want to knock and have Katniss suspect her being here. The last thing she needed was President Snow finding out she was spending more time with the twelfth district rather then the fifth.
"You can." Peeta spoke from the other side, much more calm now that he'd left the table. When Zoya opened the door, she looked around his room before she did him. It was well kept, the windows cracked open despite the expensive AC running above him, "Come to yell at me for trying to read your mind again?"
"Yell at you?" Zoya rose her eyebrows, walking over toward the window seat he'd been in, looking out one of the windows that hadn't been open slightly, "I only recall raising my tone slightly."
Peeta moved his feet so she sat across from him. Zoya spoke up again, "I would like to know what I am thinking that, if you could spare me your talent for half a second?"
"Hilarious." Peeta said unamused, but a small smile on his face, "Sorry for leaving like that. You don't have to be here helping us but you are, I shouldn't have just walked out."
"I'd have walked out and thrown all my silverware on the ground." she nodded, his head turning her way with a odd expression, "Your reaction was acceptable."
"Compared to yours." Peeta laughed, taking his eyes off the capital and looked her way, "You're not just staying around District Twelve because you enjoy our company, are you?"
Zoya gave a forced smile, a small shake of her head, "It's a lot deeper then that, I hope you never have to feel it."
"With your district?" his curiosity got the best of him, because her tone and the look in her eye didn't seem like the Zoya he was just having dinner with. Now she appeared exhausted, sad, calm, all things she usually wasn't, "About your games?"
"Haymitch is the only reason I survived my games." Zoya looked at Peeta with a serious expression, her eyes resembling the stray dogs that would sit outside the bakery, begging for scraps, "The least I can do is help mentor his tributes while he drinks his games away. We don't all get to do that."
"He was so drunk at the reaping." Peeta said, Zoyas lashes fluttering when she blinked, "Fell right off the stage."
Unexpectedly, she laughed, "Sounds like him."
"How are the tributes from Five?" Peeta asked her curiously, pulling his legs closer to him and messing with the bottom of his pant leg. Now that the strong scent of alcohol wasn't all that filled his nose, Peeta took notice of how Zoya smelt of cinnamon, lavender, and the white wine she'd had with her dinner.
"The boy wants nothing to do with me, called me a cheat and a phony." Zoya nodded her head, recalling the words he snapped at her when the pair got onto the train.
