“Kurt?”

“Leave me alone.”

“But Kurt, Mr Schuester wants to s---“

“I don’t care.”

Kurt heard an exasperated sigh from behind him, and knew he was being unreasonable, but he didn’t care.

"Kurt, come on. Pl---"

"No."

"But..."

"Not interested."

“Kurt!” Rachel snapped, and he turned, glaring.

“Fine! What?!”

“I got picked too, you know! You’re not the only one going through this! As much as you may want to believe it, the world doesn't bloody well revolve around you! Hell, I don’t think you’ve even realised it, but we're going to have to kill each other."

There was a moment's silence. Rachel was breathing heavily, trying not to cry again and Kurt's knuckles went white from gripping the chair so hard. He'd never heard her swear so much in one rant before. As the wave of anger slipped away, it was replaced by guilt for shouting at his best friend. Kurt let go of the chair and walked over to her.

"Rachel, I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have shouted." he mumbled.

"It's okay, Kurt." she said tiredly. "I understand. It's not like I'll ever see Finn again..."

"There's a chance you'll win!"

"No there isn't. Against you, the smart and witty designer, Blaine, the talented and handsome singer, and Quinn, the fiery show-stopping model, I have no hope in hell."

"Rachel..."

"Just drop it. I don't want to talk about it anymore."

Kurt sighed, and pulled her into a hug.

They stayed there for a long time; long enough for pins and needles to start up in Kurt's leg, where he had been leaning against the table. The part of his shirt where Rachel was leaning had a steadily-growing soggy patch from where she was crying silently. Kurt didn't really know what to do. Girls, it was well known, were very unpredictable. He settled for gently patting her on the back sympathetically. Even though he could be a bit of a bitch at times, he wasn't a heartless git. He cared about Rachel deeply, almost as much as Blaine.

Blaine.

Kurt had completely forgotten he'd been reaped too. Where was Blaine? The cart was empty except for him and Rachel, and he didn't know where else he could be. Maybe there were more rooms?

"Rachel?"

"Yes?"

"Do you know where the others went?"

Rachel sniffed. "No, not really. I saw Quinn walking with Terri before Mr Schuester asked me to find you, but that was ages ago.."

"Don't worry then. Are you okay?"

Another sniff.

"Sort of."

Rachel shuffled slightly, indicating she wanted to move away. Kurt obliged quickly. He unclasped his arms, letting her take a step back and sit in the nearest chair. He sank into the one opposite, and watched silently as she wiped her face to clear away any signs she'd been crying.

"I'm just fed up." she sighed, dabbing at her eyes. "I want to be home."

"If I'm gonna die, I just want it over quickly." he whispered.

"I'm sick of the Capitol's games."

"So do I. I might even try to get taken out at the Cornucopia."

Kurt started in shock. When he said he wanted it over quickly, he'd meant that he'd appreciate a nicer tribute killing him quickly and painlessly. Not walking into a bloodbath to get slaughtered.

He wanted to die with as much dignity as these damn games would allow.

"Rachel..." he began.

"Kurt Hummel?"

A new voice rang out, and Kurt turned slowly.

"That's me."

The man walked over to them, concern for Rachel etched across his face. He didn't comment though, and Kurt assumed he'd seen it too many times. The man turned to him.

"My name is Will Schuester. I will be your mentor for these coming weeks, and I will do my damnest to get one of you out alive. I just ask for your cooperation."

"Fair enough." Kurt shrugged, shaking Will's hand. "Might as well give it a shot..."