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Cashmere wakes for the second time that morning, this time relieved to find herself in her bedroom in the District 1 apartment in the Training Center. The memory of what had happened just hours ago comes back too quickly, and she feels twitchy and paranoid. She had thought she wouldn't be able to sleep again, that she was too on-edge from sneaking out of the hotel and back into the apartment, and that Seneca Crane's corpse would haunt her as she tried to sleep, but somehow, she managed. She wakes up now, bleary-eyed, and realizes she's alone.
It's the day of the tribute scoring. Gloss must be down with the tributes, and their escort, Oracle, was probably working on some sort of preparations for the parade. She's relieved that the apartment is empty, unless you count the Avox, but Cashmere didn't. She gets up and showers, then changes into a new outfit, wondering if she ought to discard the one she wore last night. Then she remembers the needle in her purse and she does panic for a moment. There is a sharps container in Remake, she thinks. She can get rid of it there.
The Avox makes her breakfast, and then Cashmere goes to Remake, both to get rid of the second morphling needle, and to get her hair and makeup styled. She doesn't have any particular plans for the day — nothing where she'll need to be on camera, at least — but she hates being bare-faced in the Capitol, being made up is just routine, now.
When she arrives, Enobaria is there, a stylist finishing her manicure that has her nails sharpened into talons to match her fangs. Cashmere's preferred stylist, Apica, must still be in the back, so she puts her bag on the counter digging through it. "My hand-mirror broke into shards," she says, loud enough for Enobaria's stylist to hear. "Can I put them in your sharps container?"
"Yeah, of course."
She walks over, dropping the needle into the box. The stylist doesn't even glance up, she can tell, but she wonders if Enobaria is watching her. But she's distracted, because something else in her purse catches her eye. A little plastic baggie, a tiny sample of the special, imported morphling.
"I know you don't want to try it now, but take a bit with you, it's really good stuff," Seneca had said.
"Oh you're generous with it now, when you've got plenty," Johanna had teased him.
She fingers the baggie, and considers going to the bathroom to flush it down the toilet. But instead she just moves it to a zippered pocket in her purse. She could flush it later today, or tomorrow. There was no rush, not like with the needle.
Once Cashmere is made up and out of Remake, she finds Gloss in the mentor-area of the basement floor where the tribute scoring is done. There's a buzz in the room, she can tell. Something has people on edge. "Are you alright?" Gloss asks her.
She nods. "Just got back late. What is this? Did some tribute score really high?"
He shakes his head, pulling her aside. "Seneca Crane is missing. He didn't show up this morning."
She knew this. Of course she knew this. But still, she schools her face into confusion and surprise. "What?"
He nods. He drops his voice, low enough not to be overheard. "Were you out with him last night?" And he looks at her, searchingly. He is her twin, and there was a time when she might not be able to hide anything from him. But they've been mentors for years, and she's had to learn that her relationship with him is more of a weakness than a strength. She gives nothing away in her gaze, and he eventually gives it up.
"No, I mean, I saw him last night, but I don't know where he is." There's no denying she was with Seneca Crane. They were seen at Illyria together, and probably out on the street. But there's no proof they were at the hotel together, she won't admit to anything more.
That afternoon, there's a meeting for all the mentors. It takes place in the large gymnasium training areas, once the tributes have been sent away for final fittings for the parade. Plutarch Heavensbee is there, presiding over them. Cashmere sees Johanna for the first time since they left the hotel room, looking maybe a little stoned but that wasn't unusual, standing beside Finnick. He elbows her and whispers something in her ear, and she smiles and whispers something back. It irritates Cashmere how normal she's being, though it would irritate her if Johanna was being suspicious also.
"I regret to inform you all that the Head Gamemaker Seneca Crane was found dead this morning. President Snow has appointed me as Head Gamemaker for the remainder of these Games. I will note that Seneca Crane was found with morphling imported from outside Panem, which is a crime in itself punishable by execution." There's a hush as they all consider this, and perhaps the others are thinking of 'execution', but Cashmere is caught on the words 'outside Panem'. Maybe she should have understood that implication when Crane told her the morphling was imported, but she thought maybe he meant from another district. What is there but Panem? Where else could there be?
She's cut off from her thoughts by Plutarch, who is smiling too pleasantly, gesturing too widely, and Cashmere can't decide if he's trying to keep them from worrying, or if he's just pleased that this has all worked out in his favor. He turns to her then, making eye contact. "The President has also asked that we resume the defunct 'Mentor Commentator' program to help put the public at ease with such an abrupt change. Cashmere, will you represent the inner districts, and Johanna, the outer districts?"
Such a selection feels targeted, and Cashmere can't help but think that Snow must know, or at least have a strong suspicion about herself and Johanna being around Seneca Crane at the time of his death. But what can she do but agree? There's no actual way to deny such a request, so she nods her head and watches Plutarch smile. From behind him, she watches Johanna roll her eyes, but she knows Johanna will agree too, because between that and death, the choice is obvious.