I Volunteer!" I Gasp. "i

Sometimes When Things Are Particularly Bad, My Brain Will Give Me A Happy Dream.

To Be Honest, I'm Not Much Of A Drinker. It Makes Me Sick, And I Hate That.

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.

Peeta Bakes. I Hunt. Haymitch Drinks Until The Liquor Runs Out.

Most Rats Read. Our Frustration Is, We Cannot Hold A Pen To Write.