And Don't You Let Your Guard Down

It’s The Final Word In Camouflage. Forget Chucking Weights Around. Peeta Should Have Gone Into His Private Session With The Gamemakers And Painted Himself Into A Tree. Or A Boulder. Or A Muddy Bank Full Of Weeds.

Even Though I Don't Ask, Plutarch Gives Me Cheerful Updates On The Phone Like "good News, Katniss! I Think We've Almost Got Him Convinced You're Not A Mutt!" Or "today He Was Allowed To Feed Himself Pudding!

I Don't Care If You Got Knocked Up. I Can Still Rip Your Throat Out

Even In War There Should Be Lines You Didn't Cross.

No One Really Needs Me,” He Says, And There's No Self-pity In His Voice...“i Do,” I Say. “i Need You.” He Looks Upset, Takes A Deep Breath As If To Begin A Long Argument, And That's No Good, No Good At All, Because He'll Start Going On About Prim And My Mother And Everything And I'll Just Get Confused. So Before He Can Talk, I Stop His Lips With A Kiss.