Hunger Games Interview Novels & Stories

Nothing else here feels real. “You ready?” the interviewer asks, taking a seat across from me. She’s older. Elegant. Her scent betrays how disquieting she finds me, but her poker face is titanium solid. Honestly, I’m impressed. “That’s what the viewers at home are seeing now.” She points at the monitors. “An interview with the geneticist that I recorded yesterday.”

“Good. Because I need energy.” “For what?” I asked, already reaching for my laminated list out of habit. He hesitated, then made a face. “A charity interview thing. It's not a normal interview. Like… a ‘fun segment.’” I winced sympathetically. “Those are the worst.” His eyes widened slightly. “How do you know that?” I regretted my mouth immediately. “I, don’t,” I lied smoothly and quickly. “I’m guessing. Based on… vibes.”

I did not even have it in me to feel dumb over not knowing the name of the delicacy; I was too hungry for that. "And why?" Lorenzo asked, watching me with those quiet grey eyes. "Why what?" "Why haven't you had anything to eat since today?" The aroma of the food strong in my nose, I thought hard to remember why I hadn't had anything. Oh yeah... "I went job hunting, and had to start out really early in order to meet up with the interviews." He looked at me unnervingly. "Interviews?" Without processing my next words, I said, "Yeah, interviews for fashion designing positions."

“You’re poking structures older than law.” I accepted interviews anyway. Not all of them. Only the ones connected to Greene-aligned media. I wanted them watching my face. My words. My tone. I was going to be in their faces until I find my son. Every time a camera light turned on, my spine went rigid. Every question felt like a trap disguised as concern. “How does it feel,” one interviewer asked gently, “to be such a young mother under so much pressure?” I smiled. “It feels like surviving this evil world,” I said. “And I’m very good at that.”

I glance at them, I didn't make any attempt to open my mouth, Cause I don't know whose gonna interview me. " Well Mr. Alexander If you want to proceed interviewing her you can, but if you want me to proceed interviewing her I'll gladly do by sitting next to you . " Mr. Stuart said with a cheerful voice. I wish that Mr. Stuart would interview me... For God's grace. But on the contrary, That Lamborghini man opened his mouth by saying "Thank you Mr. Stuart But I'll interview her I want to take my chance to be able to prove myself and indeed I want to test my knowledge as well " He said with a stoic, mysterious expression.

Cassian’s hands remained firm on her shoulders, his silver eyes scanning her face, searching for something—an answer, reassurance, maybe even a sign that she was still her. “What happened?” His voice was low, careful. Lena swallowed, the weight of the trial still pressing against her chest. “I fought myself.” Dorian let out a low whistle. “Well, that sounds… horrifying.” “It wasn’t just a fight,” Lena murmured, glancing down at her wrist. “It was a test. The Rift wanted to see if I would break—if I would give in to the part of me that it already owns.” Idris stepped closer, his eyes sharp with understanding. “And you didn’t.”

Not yet. "Soon," she tells Ethan when it's time to leave. "Soon Mama will take you home. I promise." At four pm, they drive to the television studio for the interview. It's a major network. Professional and prestigious. The interviewer is a well-known journalist named Sarah Chen. She's known for tough but fair questions. "Thank you for doing this," Sarah says when they meet. "Your story is remarkable." "Thank you for giving me the chance to tell it," Elara says.

"Mr. Maddox, did anyone catch your eye?" Huck's magnetic voice came through the Bluetooth earpiece. "What do you think?" The male interviewer frowned slightly. "I don't think anyone in this batch meets our standards. Even their physical condition isn't particularly good." Huck chuckled softly. "I want candidates number 8, 12, and 14. Notify them and take them for health checks in an hour." The interviewer, Clyton Farman, nodded firmly. "Yes, Mr. Maddox." He walked out of the conference room and addressed the waiting candidates. "Everyone can leave now. We'll text you if you pass the interview."

"She couldn't pass the interview, sir." "How so? There was no problem with her resume. She's competent and even graduated with a very good CPGA," Lucas defended. Unless something went wrong during the interview. "Get me the CCTV footage of the interview. Now.”

Christopher shrugged a bit before he replied, “Well, rumors are rumors aren’t they?” The interviewer nodded with a smile, adjusting herself again and pushing her blossom out so more of her cleavage could show. “So, this thing with Miss Hart is real and you plan to be in deep?” she had asked, causing Starr’s frown to deepened. Hadn’t he answered that already? Why was she still asking him again? Was she trying to pull something? Starr felt her blood begin to get hot, she didn’t like how the interviewer was acting. Wait, wasn’t the interview about his new book release, so why wouldn’t she stop asking about his personal life?