Well You Are A Piece Of Work

Someone Ought To Get Haymitch A Drink.

Want A Sugar Cube?" He Asks In His Old Seductive Voice. That's How We Met, With Finnick Offering Me Sugar. Surrounded By Horses And Chariots, Costumed And Painted For The Crowds, Before We Were Allies. Before I Had Any Idea What Made Him Tick. The Memory Actually Coaxes A Smile Out Of Me. "here, It Improves The Taste," He Says In His Real Voice, Plunking Three Cubes Into My Cup.

Since My Father Died And I Stopped Trusting My Mother, No One Else's Arms Have Made Me Feel This Safe.

Don't. Don't Let's Pretend When There's No One Around.

Everything Is About Them, Not The Dying Boys And Girls In The Arena.