Sadie Doyle, capitol citizen and toast of the upper crust, had recently decided to venture into the dubious business of having interests outside of her own marriage and hedonism. And, really, patronage of the Games were simply the thing to do these days. Or had been forever, technically. It had always been a thing to do. She simply had been content with her purely spectator position before. But throwing money and gifts at the tributes may just suit as a first venture into this whole 'hobby' business.

She'd come to this particular party, one for sponsors to mingle with the escorts, stylists, and mentors looking to take advantage of their money, to dip her toes into the whole patronage affair. And, as luck would have it, she had been simply enamored with the newest arena from the moment she'd looked up from ordering her drink and seen it. So many little metal bit and whirly-woos! And then the highlight of the event had appeared as all the little tributes went scurrying away. It was, for perhaps the first time in her life, a fine thing the glass in her hand was empty, because her gin and gin over gin would have likely gone splashing about as she clapped her hands together.

"Clown! Oh, I certainly do hope there are no flowers which- despite their common appearance- upon close examination spray liquid into the eyes of the unwary!"

The barman placed the ordered drink on the bar beside her and, in a dramatic stage whisper, Sadie leaned in towards the person closest to her and confided:

"I secretly hope there are such flowers."