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Wyatt Callow is a very honest person.
He knows it, his family knows it, even Mags and Wiress, who have only known him for a few days. Haymitch, Louella and Maysilee know it too. They haven't known him long either.
It's not hard to tell. Ever since he was a kid, and had shocked everyone with his skills in statistics, he has always told the truth. Not because he wants to show off, or draw attention to himself (it's the opposite, actually).
It's like muscle memory. An instinct.
In almost any situation, he's quick to calculate the odds, no matter how important. To Wyatt, it'd be weird to not share them with everyone else. Almost like a disservice to others. Even if it annoys them. Even if it offends them.
That's why it shocks him when a single look from Maysilee Donner is enough to make him quiet.
At first, he's stunned by how her gaze silences him. Her eyes- sharp and defiant- linger on his, and he makes no move to continue.
Wyatt's been told that looks can be deceiving. Someone can look nice and stab you in the back, or put on a rude facade that ends up being a cover of their honest personality. He'd never had much experience with this, considering he never really had any friends, but he'd heard about it enough times to believe it to be true.
But sometimes, looks are all knowing. One glance, and someone falls in love. One look, and everything becomes clear. One moment of eye contact, and someone's intentions are revealed.
Neither of those things were true with Maysilee.
Wyatt took a moment to look at her. Really look at her. The necklaces that ordained her neck at all times (too many to go unnoticed), her sharp blue eyes (with a tiny glint of fear in them), her light pink lips (that tremored ever so slightly).
Was her glare the rude facade he'd heard about? Or was it all knowing, insightful in a way only a few people could understand?
He could tell she was afraid. Maybe no one else could, but he did. He saw it in every action she made. Especially when she looked at him, urging him to stop announcing everyone's odds.
Was she really afraid, though? Could he ever know for sure?
Wyatt made note of one thing.
She was absolutely impossible to figure out.
The next time was in the van, on the way back from the district parade.
A few nights prior, he had overheard Haymitch and Louella talking about him and Maysilee. How they didn't want them as allies, Louella wouldn't even consider it.
Haymitch had whispered something to Louella, but with the close proximity, all of them heard it.
"The odds are better with the two of us."
Wyatt blinks. Once, twice.
Numbers fly through his head, flooding his brain. Like an instinct.
And then,
"That's not technically true. Well, not by a lot. Your odds were already about a 4%, and if you factor the other 47 tributes into the odds... that's about 3.12%. Double that, it's 6.24% for both of you. But, considering the other tributes status, the state of the arena, and your physical capabilities, the odds decrease by about... 1.68%, which means-"
Suddenly, a small hand wraps around his wrist, drawing his attention because of the sudden force. He looks down to see Maysilee staring back, an annoyed expression on her face.
"Wyatt!" She hisses, "stop with that!"
His eyes immediately go wide, and he looks back to Haymitch and Louella, who both have horrified expressions on their faces. Wyatt falls silent at this, and his gaze goes back to Maysilee.
Her grip is still ever so tight on his wrist, not wavering in the slightest.
Suddenly, the same shock from the train creeps back into his stomach, this time growing rapidly.
Why the hell did he stop?
What happened to 'a disservice to others' and 'telling the odds no matter who it annoyed'? He was honest, regardless of what others thought.
So how come Maysilee Donner, of all people, was the one who seemed to turn off this switch in his brain, when no one else had ever been able to?
For some reason, he feels entitled to explaining his outburst, not just for Haymitch and Louella, but for Maysilee.
"S-sorry." He mumbles quietly.
Maysilee is seemingly satisfied with this, giving him a small nod and letting go of his wrist.
"Just keep it to yourself, Wyatt," she suddenly whispers. "It won't help them."
It might just be Wyatt imagining things, or hearing what he wants to, but he swears there's a small note of gentleness in her voice. Partly from the whispering, yes, but maybe because of him, too.
Realizing she wants a response, he quickly nods his head.
"Okay."
He won't tell her anything else, because he knows she's right, but he can't necessarily promise to keep quiet. Wyatt was honest person, after all.
Apparently, he can't promise to keep quiet until Maysilee tells him to.
And that was scary.
The rest of the van ride is primarily silent, except for the occasional scuffling of shoes and a noise from a peacekeeper at the front.
Wyatt can tell that Louella and Haymitch are still speaking, but he can't quite make out what there saying. He can tell Maysilee knows it too, but she keeps her head up, looking off into the darkness in the corner of the van.
"What? No!" It's Louella's voice, seemingly increasing in volume.
"Louella!" Haymitch snaps at her. "Keep it down!"
"No!" she shouts, suddenly turning to face Wyatt. "Maysilee's got bad odds too. And so do you!"
Wyatt isn't as affected by this as she wants him to be, because she's not wrong. He calculated his odds months before the reaping day, and he calculated Maysilee's the second she was reaped. He knows his odds are bad. What bugs him is the fact she called out Maysilee too.
"I know." He replies steadily.
"So pick on her!" Louella barks. "She's the rude one! Leave me and Hay alone!"
Maysilee is still quiet, staring at her dark corner. She's got a faraway look in her eye, like she doesn't know what's going on around her. He'd never seen her like that- no remarks, no glare. Just silence.
"I didn't do anything to you." Wyatt defends, trying to keep Maysilee out of it. "I'm an oddsmaker- I can't help it. I'm sorry, okay? Can we stop now?"
Maysilee suddenly turns, her eyes wide. She looked to each of them, lingering on Wyatt before she spoke.
She sucks in a deep breath, as if deciding whether she should say what's on her mind. Again, very unlike Maysilee.
"What are my odds, Wyatt?"
For a few moments, he just stares at her.
If it were anyone else, he would've told them without a second guess.
But, apparently, Maysilee is different.
And for some reason, he just can't bring himself to tell her how bad her odds truly are.
There better than Louella and Haymitch's, but that ultimately wouldn't make a difference.
So instead, he stays silent.
It's hard, but also -strangely- easy.
Because he didn't understand the effect she had on him.
But it was strong enough to silence his mind.
In training a few days later, the little boy from Three, Ampert, tells them that he's forming an alliance with all of the non-career districts.
The four of them agree to join, mostly because they need more allies and it seems safe enough.
Wyatt and Maysilee are at the knife throwing station, along with some kids from district six.
There one of the only districts who doesn't want to join the alliance, which decreases their odds drastically, not that they were very high to begin with. (Wyatt did the math).
The four of them are so quiet that he can't hear what their whispering, and if it wasn't for their mouths moving he wouldn't know that they were talking at all.
Maysilee suddenly appears right next to him with a small knife in her hand.
"Do you know what they're saying?" She asks.
Wyatt shakes his head, and goes to grab another knife for target practice. He misses the first few times, but eventually gets the hang of it.
Maysilee's doing the same thing, and she's not all that bad either. Wyatt makes note that this increases her odds by a bit, but he still swears not to tell her.
The kids from six come over, reaching for knives, when one of them speaks loud enough to hear.
"We have better odds if we stay neutral."
"Yeah, you might be right."
Wyatt's already ran the numbers, and he knows that they're wrong. This is where it seems like a disservice to others, not telling them their odds. Because they are wrong, and he doesn't want them to go in thinking otherwise.
Almost against his will, his mind starts running statistics, something with 4 and 6 and whatever else, until he reaches a credible conclusion.
"That's not true." Wyatt starts.
The kids from Six turn to stare at him, their eyes widening as they take in what he just said.
"It-it's not?"
Wyatt shakes his head. "Your odds are already very low, each of you has about a 1.13% chance of winning, and choosing not to be in the alliance would decrease your odds pretty drastically, about 0.6%, and if you do the multiply that... "
But before he can solve it, Maysilee has grabbed his arm with both hands and is dragging him into the corner of the station.
"Maysilee!" Wyatt is struggling to get out of her grasp, which only seems to be intensifying. "What are you-"
"You're scaring the shit out of those kids." She says bluntly.
He turns around to see the kids staring at him, their eyes wide with fear as they look at him.
"Oh."
Maysilee turns to look at the group, who have already starting backing up.
"Sorry about him," she tells them. "He's an oddsmaker."
She offers then a small smile, which only one of them returns. The kids don't say anything, they nod slightly, and turn to sprint away from their station.
After their gone, Maysilee turns back to Wyatt.
"What did I tell you?" She snaps.
Wyatt's eyes go wide. "Um, w-what?"
She exhales sharply.
"Don't talk about odds!"
Each of her words seem to be punctuated with a period at the end.
Wyatt stills for a moment, taking in the fact that she had only gotten closer to him, and it's very intimidating.
"Right, sorry." His voice is still shaking slightly as he answers.
Maysilee seems to sense this, and finally realizes she has cornered him closely, and her grip on his arm is to tight her knuckles are white.
She quickly backs away, but still keeps her hand on his arm.
"It's fine," She murmurs, "just try not to let it happen again, will you?"
Wyatt nods.
She slowly walks them away from the corner, and by now almost half the tributes are staring at them. Wyatt immediately shrinks behind Maysilee, but it's not much use since he's taller than her.
She leads them over to the fire building station, which is currently empty, and takes a seat near a fake tree.
It happened again.
Except now, he's willing to follow her. Without a second thought.
Does that increase or decrease his odds?
Does she increase or decrease them?
Because right now, he trusts her more than he's trusted anyone, and be barely knows her.
So who's to say how he'll trust her in the games? How he'll feel about her in the games?
The odds are getting higher.
But he won't tell her that. It won't do her any good to know how low they still are.
So he stays by her side, completely silent.
There are two days until the games.
Two more nights to sleep.
According to Wyatt's odds, about two more days to live.
The private sessions are today, and the four of them have been brainstorming what to show the game makers.
Maysilee thought about braiding something, Louella might make a fire, and Haymitch might throw a few things.
None of those things would increase their odds by much, but Wyatt decides to keep that to himself with Maysilee close by.
Very unlike him.
Maysilee is still unusually quiet as well, with less remarks and sarcasm than usual. She often picks a place in the room and stares at it, getting a faraway look in her eyes.
With only a few minutes before the private sessions start, Wyatt finds Maysilee at the knot tying station. She's showing some kids from... (8, maybe?) how to fix their tokens.
He doesn't want to interrupt, especially since the kids seem so happy and Maysilee is genuinely smiling, which he hasn't seen her do since they were back in 12.
"Thank you!" One of the kids beams.
She smiles softly at the girl, handing the necklace back to her.
"Sure thing."
After giving everyone their tokens, the kids leave and Maysilee crouches down onto the ground to pick up some of her supplies. She gathers all of her tools, some string, loose braids, a few pieces of clay. Her long blonde hair falls in front of her face, and she pushes it behind her shoulders, giving Wyatt a glimpse at her face.
Her jawline was defined, with a tiny birthmark just under her chin. All of her necklaces dangled down her neck into the air. She had a few less than usual, because she gave a few to the other kids. Her shiny blue eyes were wide, deep in thought, but not looking at anything in particular.
Wyatt realized something he'd never had time to think about before. Of course he knew, everyone did, but he'd never truly admitted it to himself.
She was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen.
Suddenly, she stood up and saw him, and he swore her eyes softened when they made eye contact.
"Hey," he says casually.
"Hi."
A few beats of comfortable silence pass, with the two of them making their way back from the station towards a small corner in the room.
"So, the kids seem to like you." Wyatt observes.
Maysilee nods. "Yeah. I guess."
She looks over towards Haymitch and Louella, who are at the poisonous food station, and gets that look in her eye once again. It's like she's leaving the world for a few moments, everything around her fading away.
Finally, Wyatt asks the question that's been on his mind since the parade.
"Maysilee," he says as softly as he can, "are you okay?"
She turns to look at him, her face completely void of emotion for a few seconds, before the corners of her lips upturn ever so slightly.
"Do you really want to know?" She asks.
Wyatt isn't that surprised by her question, considering Maysilee is the kind of person to doubt something until she knows it's true. It's the same with him.
"Yes."
She nods at that, and takes a deep breath, looking back at Louella and Haymitch.
"Not really." She answers honestly. "But none of this is okay, I guess. These people are sick."
Wyatt sighs, understanding exactly how she feels. Slightly empty, scared, horrified of what's coming but also desperately trying to except it. And she's right about the people in the Capitol. Who would do this to them?
Maysilee turns back to Wyatt, giving him a small smirk.
"Why do you care?"
He shrugs. "Can I not care about you?"
She's surprised at that, her eyes going slightly wider and her smirk dissolving into something softer. She steps closer to him, giving him a true smile.
Her voice is quiet when she speaks.
"No. You can care."
Wyatt turns to her and smiles. "I would've cared no matter what you said."
She laughs at that, and it's the sweetest sound he's ever heard.
The night before the games, with the four of them sleeping in the same room, Maysilee volunteers to take the first watch.
"Are you sure you guys want to take watches tonight?" Haymitch asks. "I mean, with the games being tomorrow, shouldn't we try to get as much sleep as possible?"
Louella makes a noise of agreement, and Wyatt nods.
"He's right Maysilee." He tells her.
Maysilee sighs quietly, loud enough for only Wyatt to hear, since his blankets are right next to her bed.
"Okay."
Wiress and Mags come in to tell them goodnight, and they encourage them to "get as much sleep as possible".
After they leave, Louella reaches her hand onto the night stand to turn off the lamp.
"Goodnight." She tells them, and they echo it back.
The room is plunged into darkness, with only the glow of the moon giving them light.
Louella is the first to fall asleep, then Haymitch, which only leaves Maysilee and Wyatt. After the other two fall asleep, they don't talk for a while, not wanting to wake the other if they were sleeping. (Although, it was easy to tell if Wyatt was sleeping, considering his trademark snoring).
Finally, after what feels like an eternity to Wyatt, Maysilee whispers something only he could hear.
"Why didn't you tell me what my odds were, after the parade?"
Wyatt lets out a breath, desperately wanting to avoid her question. Honestly, he didn't really know. Part of it was because of the fight that day between them, Haymitch, and Louella. But maybe it was because he wanted to protect her. He didn't want her to know her odds, because he couldn't bare to see the slight look of pain in her eyes as he said it.
But he can't tell her that. And he can't stay silent this time either.
"I don't know."
A few beats of silence pass, and he sits up slightly in his bed. The moonlight pours onto Maysilee's face, making her blonde hair seem lighter than usual. Her eyes look icy blue, all the more piercing, but it also makes her look younger than she really is. More frightened.
"You were the only person who got me to stop talking." Wyatt blurts.
She lifts her eyes from the ground to look at him.
"What do you mean?"
"When I'm talking about odds," Wyatt explains. "I usually get carried away, and I won't stop talking until I've said it all."
Maysilee nods slowly, analyzing the information.
"And I got you to stop?"
Wyatt nods. "Yeah. I don't know why."
She doesn't say anything after that. The room falls back into quiet, and Wyatt lays back down on his side. He won't be getting any sleep tonight, not when his odds say he might die tomorrow. He thinks Maysilee's doing the same, when suddenly he hears some rustling from her bed.
He turns around to see she's thrown off her covers, and crawls out of bed. She crouches down and sits on his blanket, right next to her bed.
"I won't be able to sleep." She says quietly. "I keep having... nightmares."
Wyatt's eyes widen. He wasn't a heavy sleeper, especially here, but she didn't wake him up once. He didn't even notice at night.
"I keep reliving them, during the day."
The realization suddenly dawns on him. The faraway look in her eyes, seemingly not knowing what going on around her. She was in a completely different world, and not a good one. Not like this one was much better, though.
Without thinking, he reaches down and grabs her hand, holding it tightly.
She looks up at him, slightly tense, before she gives in and sighs against him. It's almost like he feels the tension slowly seeping out of her body.
"Thank you, Wyatt." She whispers.
A moment later, she leans her head on his shoulder, ready to fall asleep. He tenses at first, unused to the contact, but slowly, it becomes more comfortable- like second nature. She fits with him perfectly.
This doesn't increase her odds. He's already agreed to be her ally. It doesn't benefit her.
But he won't tell her that.
For now, he'll stay here, content with her presence, and remain silent.
Silent odds will never hurt her.