"I wasn't harass--" Monty bit his tongue and pressed his forehead against the the cool glass of the windowed door. He repeated a mantra in his head that he had been taught by some sap who was "more of a people person than he": do you want to repair, or do you want to be right? Monty had wanted to punch said sap, but the twerp had darted off before Monty could swing. It was why Monty didn't like making "friends" with "Sponsors."

He was here, he told himself, to repair. He pulled a breath through his gritted teeth, forcing an air of relaxation and - dare he call it this - repentance into his voice. "I'm here to apologize, Sheen. Will you let me in? It's cold out here."

Sheen had just finished taking Shimmer for a walk, and he was getting changed into a tank top and pajama bottoms when he heard the door buzzer, eyebrow-raising, he wasn't sure who it was until he heard the voice...Monty. He wasn't sure why he was here, he'd made it clear that he didn't want anything turning him down twice. Once at the Mentor's Ball, and then again when he had come to One's floor. Also, most of his texts had been left on read, so the message Monty was sending became clear, so he had stopped bothering him. Scratching his nose, he opened the door just enough to stick his face out,

"You're harassing my neighbors to know if I'm home now? What the fuck do you want, Monty? You made it pretty clear last time I saw you what you didn't want. So if you're just here to treat me like some plaything again or play dress up with me and nothing else, you can go. I'm sure you can find a million other people willing to be that or do that for you."

Ben Barnes for FOX MAGAZINE

@cress-meadowforge

Monty stood outside Cress' door with the basket he and Enna had put together, with the pièce de résistance in a small jeweled box in the center. He paused for a moment, awkwardly holding the gift in his arms, and finally managed to knock, gently, by pivoting his full body against the door.

"Cress?" he called gently, not knowing if Kya was awake or asleep. "I told someone on my team to tell someone on your team I was coming over, but I realize I could have just texted you directly. I'm just always worried it'll make your phone ding and upset Kya somehow."

@sheenlux

Sheen hadn't been his usual annoying self, and it irked Monty. The past several weeks, ever since Monty had dared to imply that maybe Sheen had some sort of self confidence issue that he was masking with a proclivity for physical contact, Sheen hadn't sent a single text in the middle of the day or awkwardly at 8 pm as Monty was planning to either go out or get ready for bed (depending on the mood). The silence was obnoxious.

But upon some reflection, Monty could see the smallest amount of justification for Sheen's distress. After all, it had been Monty who had barged in, put his hands on Sheen, and spent ample time telling him he was beautiful. While Monty had viewed it all as objective, requested feedback, he could see how maybe Sheen perhaps could have misconstrued it as "flirting" or "coming on to him."

So here he was, outside Sheen's apartment, slightly regretting the flimsy t-shirt / light jacket combo which had looked so good in the mirror but was doing little to keep out the early spring chill. He hit the buzzer, peering closely into the camera doorbell. "Open up, Sheen. Your neighbor just saw you getting back from a walk with Shimmer - I know you're in there."

Montgomery Cannon arrives at the Victors Ball in a finely tailored suit, courtesy of Enna Lydonsbee. The deep green, floral-patterned shirt was a last minute addition to honor Linden's District, as the pair had previously planned an elaborate costume based on the presumption that a District Nine Tribute would be taking the crown.

Monty waved off Enna's comment. "Cress is a Career, too. People just tend to forget because she's matronly now. She did better than I did in her Games."

His head snapped around at her suggestion, however. "A bead?" An image immediately sprung to mind: a single, blood red bead, hanging on a finely woven gold chain. Elegant. Classic. Sentimental. "That... that might work. How quickly can we make it happen?"

He moved with intention to a drawer in the room, effortlessly pulling out a small letter opener. "Do you have a vial?" He expertly flipped the small blade in his hand, positioning it against the palm of his hand and preparing to cut. But then he stopped -

"Or, perhaps we wait until we're somewhere where we can best capture my blood. Come on. Let's go."

Enna looked like a deer, a little bit caught in the shine of monty's headlights of excitement. he came on strong, but Enna let him work through it, mostly because he burnt the idea out quickly. "sometimes, I forget you're a career. but you always remind me." she smiled, shaking her head until another thought struk her.

"does cress like blood?" she asked, curious. Cress was strange in her likes, it didn't actually strike Enna as strange. "Because, you know, it probably wouldn't be safe to turn it into a dye. but what if we put it into a bead? in some jewelry?" that way it would be more hygienic, suitable for a baby.

Being undressed would never phase Monty. Plenty of people had tried it, plenty of people had done it, and plenty of people had been allowed to do it. Monty stood stoic, unmoving as Sheen unbuckled his belt and revealed just the slightest bit of the waistline of his underwear.

But there was something under this version of Sheen, under this action. It was a look in the man's eye - an air of his movements and words. It was something he had seen before in other forms. In Cat, at the clubs, or in Nano, when they talked. An apology, perhaps. A mask. An insistence that if the focus was on someone else, then they were protected themselves. Monty had seen this before in people he cared for - this impulse to give everything so as to avoid taking anything for themselves. As if they didn't deserve to take things for themselves. As if giving in to others could substitute for having their own needs respected.

And Monty would not stand for that.

His hand reached out and took Sheen by the wrist, stopping him before he could pull any further. "Sheen," he said, his voice deep in his chest. "You don't have to do anything you don't want to. Not with me."

Sheen shook his head, "Sheen, not....not Mr. Lux." He chuckled a little blushing at the suggestion he was feeling bold, maybe he was...maybe he was trying to cover up the fact he was scared. Maybe he just need a distraction from his looks, and focus on someone else's. Monty always looked good. He knew that, and Sheen knew that. Sheen would rather make that the focus then himself, he had hated being the focus for quite some time now. His eyes meeting Monty's he smirked a little, shrugging his shoulder's slightly as he took a step closer to the older male.

"I could be bolder..." His eyes not moving from Monty's as his hands started to undo Monty's pants, lowering them just enough before feeling where his hips were. Biting his bottom lip, Sheen was curious if he'd touch Monty's skin or more fabric.

Monty pulled the sweatshirt over his head, squeezing his eyes shut to bask in the bit of coziness it provided. He pulled at the fabric, surprise evident on his face. "This is... higher quality than I'd expect from you. Was it a gift?"

He turned away, not waiting for an answer, to pour himself a mug of coffee. He noticed his phone, miraculously plugged in, on the kitchen counter and scooted over to it. A quick glance, though, ruined his morning. He spun on his heel. "At three am?!" He groaned, rolling his head back for a moment. "For fuck's sake. At least it was that juggernaut from Nine and not someone pathetic."

He tossed his phone down on the counter to resume its charging and took a long pull of coffee. "Well, that's that for Two, then. Happy Hunger Games; you've got the next few days off."

Everett cringed, his expression showing the futility of a check for Quarry. The game was over for their district. Another year, two more failures. He was not having the best of mornings. "You can borrow a sweatshirt, but if you want news on the Arena, ask Cain," he said. He headed toward his room, opening the door to grab a sweatshirt and returning to toss it at Monty.

Monty nodded absently, only half taking in Enna's words. He idly chewed on a nail, his arm crossed defensively across his body. "Doesn't want for anything, yes..." he murmured, his mind racing. "If she doesn't need anything, and she doesn't want anything... what can we give...?"

He took a step back before an idea struck him. He spun on his heel to face the young designer. "Enna! How quickly could you turn blood into a dye? We could re-dye the fabric with..." The idea petered in his brain even as he spoke it out. "No. We'd have to give too much blood. We'd never survive." He turned again to consider the basket.

"Unless.... unless it wasn't our blood!" His eyes lit up, only to immediately dull again. "No, then it wouldn't mean anything. Anyone can get someone else's blood."

"Yeah, you're right." although the idea of giving her boss money that said boss had paid her was very funny. she could draw. that was true. absently, she began sketching a stork bringing a baby onto the inside. because yes, that was easier than words. "Thanks."

"But she doesn't want for anything, she's a victor. She can just buy it." which was deeply annoying if you wanted to get her anything. Monty and Enna cared about her. but she was, by nature, hard to shop for. "We need to get her things she wouldn't know she'd want. it's hard!"

"The blanket's good, though. and it'll take up space."

Suddenly the shy, fawning little Victor had his hands on Monty's hips. He paused momentarily, his eyes looking away to consider the thought, then he brought his gaze back to Sheen's face to see if he would match it. A glimmer of a smirk played on the corner of his lips, but for the most part he kept himself ever-so-perfectly composed.

"You're feeling... bold today, Mr. Lux." It was not an unwelcome advance, but Monty had had no conception that Sheen might have had this in mind. And, honestly, perhaps Sheen hadn't had this in mind - the guy seemed a little all over the place the past hour or so. Monty, for his part, had been singularly focused on the request at hand.

He let the statement stand there - not deigning to answer Sheen's question - or to pull away from his touch. However, he couldn't control the twinkle of curiosity, of daring in his eyes. If Sheen dared to meet his gaze, he might see it for himself.

At the shoulder squeeze, he smiled, and then he was turned around so he was looking Monty in the face. His eyes went over every inch of Monty's face, taking every detail. He was so beautiful. He was only half listening to what he said, instead choosing to get lost in the other Victor's eyes, it served as a great distraction to what he had just been thinking about when he was staring at his own reflection. Snapping back into the moment when he felt Monty's hands leave him. He really only caught the tale end of what he had been saying.

Sheen chuckled, not at Monty, but rather his comment. He actually was starting to like how the look felt on him more and more. Raising an eyebrow, and smirking. "What about you?" Hands moving to Monty's hips. That was what he wanted right? After all of this? The touching, the teasing, the putting his hands in Sheen's pants. "Does this look you have on now, come with or without underwear?"

Ben Barnes || 📸 Emma Holly Jones

It was usually easy enough for Monty to get back to his own apartment just down the street from the Tower, but occasionally it was necessary for him to find alternate accommodations. Especially on nights such as this, after the balls, when he may have had... extra appointments to attend to. Luckily Bartholomew had been much too drunk to really make moves on him, so Monty had been able to deposit him into a taxi with only a light kiss on the cheek, but by that point, the alcohol had been flowing much too freely. He had found his way back to the second floor to fall asleep on a couch.

"Yeah," he grumbled, his voice gravelly and hoarse. "But I think I got Bartholomew to sign over a huge check for Quarry. I imagine he'll drop it off later today." He sat up and stretched, instantly triggering the headache that he knew would be building. His intricate outfit from the ball laid in a crumpled heap at the foot of the couch. "Can I borrow a sweatshirt or something?" he asked, slowly bringing himself to standing.

He made his way to the kitchen by memory, setting a coffee pot to autobrew. "And if you tell me Quarry died overnight, I'm going to lose my mind."

"Well you look like you had fun last night," Everett said when he and Monty both stumbled out into the common area of the second floor at the same time. For Everett's part, he had had fun, but now he was paying the price, and it showed.

@montgomery-cannon

"The card?" Monty spun on his heel to consider Enna's question. "I don't know. Stick some money in it." He returned to the basket, adjusting the angles of some of the contents. "Or draw something for her. That's your thing, isn't it?"

He began the arduous task of re-rolling the blanket, taking care to tuck the fringe protectively into the roll. "I'm just a bit stumped, I fear," he said. "She'll have everything she needs. And it will be the top quality, because it's her. So what we should be focusing on is what she wants."

He paused for a moment, pulling a hand across his beard. "But then again - doesn't everything go wildly sideways during pregnancy? Who even knows what she wants nowadays?"

Enna and Monty were working on a basket for cress. well, monty was working more on the basket. Enna was agonizing over the card. you did it felt a little weird, congrats felt decidedly too bland, and the other suggestion from the internet, push it, Mama! felt decidedly strange. She'd never had a mother, how was she supposed to know what to wish one?

She looked up at Monty's frustration, taking in their little gift with a quiet realization that Monty was right. it was too useful, too practical for cress. "It definitely needs some spice." She agreed, nodding. "What do you want to put on the card? I can't think of anything. Maybe I'll just draw something for the front." She was much better with that than words, anyway.

as for the... rug? no, blanket. it was beautiful, soft and ornate and expensive. Silk, bernat, and what looked like actual gold and silver weaved in. "She'll love that. It's perfect. you've got some good stuff. all I brought was a bad basket and some baby clothes I had waiting." she was glad they were partnering up on this. it would make for a better gift.

Ben Barnes || 📸 Emma Holly Jones

@ennalydonsbee

"Is this too much?" Monty asked, throwing a blanket out across the table. It was heavy, fringed, and looked more like a tapestry than anything else. "I had it overnighted from District 8. There's four different luxury fabrics woven through it. Silk... and some other stuff. I don't remember, I just asked for the most expensive one."

He considered it amidst the rest of the basket. Enna had some ideas about what should go into it, but honestly Monty thought it lacked... elegance. Pizzazz. "It's just so... useful," he murmured, rubbing at his mouth. There were luxury cloth diapers, creams and balms and salves of all kinds, but yet not a single ounce of glamor. "Could we switch the basket out for something made of like... marble? Silver? This won't bring Cress joy."

Ben Barnes || 📸 Guy Lowndes

Monty's brow furrowed in slight confusion at Sheen's reaction. He was thoroughly unused to someone so objectively attractive recoiling from admiring themselves. But, he supposed, it was of little matter. If Sheen didn't want to look in a mirror, that was his own business.

The press into his hands, however, caught Monty slightly off guard. Sheen was full of unexpectedness this afternoon. His face softened a nearly imperceptible amount, and he gave Sheen's shoulders a small squeeze as he turned him around to be face-to-face with him.

"You don't have to do anything you don't want to," he said, curiosity sparking in his eyes. He took a breath in and realized he still had his hands on Sheen's shoulders. He slowly released them, allowing his arms to return to his own sides.

He shook his head slightly to return his mind to the present. "Well, for what it's worth, the look works wonderfully. With or without underwear."

Sheen didn't like being appraised and looked over especially when it came to his appearance. His parents had done that more than enough in various, usually awful, different ways while he was growing up. So when Monty was staring at him like this Sheen's gaze couldn't help but turn towards his feet, almost waiting for him to say something negative. Then he felt his fingers going into the waistband, and being told while it wasn't perfect that it wasn't bad either. And then he was being moved in front of a mirror, where he grimaced slightly. If there was anything he hated, it was looking at himself in the mirror. Goosebumps formed when Monty touched his arms and then his waist, telling him how good his legs were. Though he was relaxing into the touch, almost pressing himself into Monty. When he asked how he felt he shrugged.

"I guess, I feel good in it. Could do with shoes, and socks, oh and uhh I guess, underwear. I won't expect you to go get all of that for me though. But its uhhh nice? It looks like it uhh flows, I guess?" Sheeen started to fidget looking at his reflection, starting to make him feel uncomfortable more in his skin than in the clothing. "I just, I'd like to stop looking in the mirror now, please." Monty didn't know Sheen's history with mirrors, why would he? "I just, I don't like them."