Chapter Text
Johanna grabbed a fistful of lettuce and planted it on the freshly toasted bun, then she threw a patty on it.
“You forgot the mayo,” Finnick said as he walked past.
“Fuck if I care!” Johanna spat. “What are they gonna do? Fire me? We’re already understaffed!”
Finnick grinned at her. “Put the mayo on the sandwich, Johanna.”
“Whatever.”
__
“So what do you have to offer this establishment?”
“I’m very clever, I’m fast too,” the ginger girl said.
“Right. You have no past history with employment. Is that correct?” the elderly man asked.
“Yes, I’m very observant, though.”
The man rubbed his temple. “Sorry, we’re looking for something else.”
The girl scowled but stood up. She collected her résumé and gave the man a nod before leaving.
“Is that it, Plutarch?”
“No, no, we have two more,” he replied.
“Disappointing. Bring the next one in.”
A young girl, lanky and skinny, pushed open the door. She wore an off-white top with a hunting jacket, unconventional in today’s warm weather.
“Sir,” she greeted. She attempted a smile, but it came across as a grimace.
“You are…”
“Katniss. Katniss Everdeen.”
“Ah.” He nodded, writing her name down on his clipboard.
Katniss took in the interior of the small room. She didn’t like the outside of the restaurant; it was too minimalist and plain. The inside was no better. This room in particular was completely bare; the only furniture was a square table and two chairs on opposing sides.
The man, whose name tag read Coriolanus, cleared his throat. “Why are you interested in this role?”
“Well, Coriolan—”
“Snow.”
Katniss swallowed. What a strange nickname. She guessed it could refer to his snow-white hair, or maybe it was a surname.She hoped she hadn't offended him.
“Sorry. Snow, I need a job. And you were hiring. I can fully commit myself here, of course.”
She only added that last bit when he squinted at her.
“I envy your honesty. Why don’t you tell me about yourself?”
This was where Katniss usually messed up—here or the “polite greetings.” She just didn’t know what to say. She either waited too long to answer or answered too fast, making no sense.
Katniss took a deep breath. “I’m sufficient. I’m not the best with customers, but I get things done. If I really do need to, I can communicate with co-workers or customers.” She bit her cheek. “I’m adaptive too. I can learn all of the techniques or such in about a week.”
She tugged on her shirt cuff. She wasn’t sure how much of that was a lie; she went off what people told her.
A smirk tugged at Snow’s lips. “What is your biggest weakness?”
Katniss felt like she had a gun to her neck. Her mother had mentioned that they would ask her something of the sort, and Katniss shrugged her off.
“I’m a little stubborn,” she blurted. She felt her cheeks burn.
Snow laughed. “Good. How often are you available? What schedule are you open to?”
“Anything but school hours, really.”
Snow nodded, wrote something down, then looked up. “Four to nine. Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, Sunday. Be here tomorrow.” He didn't ask her. He told her the time and the day.
Katniss nodded, dazed. She stood up. “Thank you.”
She slipped out the door, shut it behind her, and stood idly for a second, trying to understand what just happened. Trying to figure out if she imagined everything.
She got the job.
She could run home and smile at Prim and exclaim, “I got the job!” and she and Prim would celebrate. Prim would hug Katniss and congratulate her and she would feel bliss.
She got the job.
She could repeat it another thousand times.
She walked stiffly to the exit and held the door open for someone. Still trying to steady herself, she froze when Peeta Mellark passed by.
For a heartbeat, their eyes met—then he walked into the interview room.
She doesn’t have to worry about that right now; she can spend tonight happily.
He probably forgot anyway.