My Lips Are Just Forming

I Walk Around The Room Eating Goose Liver And Puffy Bread Until There's A Knock On The Door. Effie's Calling Me To Dinner. Good. I'm Starving.

I Don't Like Self-righteous People," I Say. "what's To Like?" Says Haymitch, Who Begins Sucking The Dregs Out Of The Empty Bottles.

Then I Know Prim Is Right, That Snow Cannot Afford To Waste Peeta's Life, Especially Now, While The Mockingjay Causes So Much Havoc. He's Killed Cinna Already. Destroyed My Home. My Family, Gale, And Even Haymitch Are Out Of His Reach. Peeta's All He Has Left. "so, What Do You Think They'll Do To Him?" I Ask. Prim Sound About A Thousand Years Old When She Speaks."whatever It Takes To Break You.

I Don't Have A Talent, Unless You Count Hunting Illegally, Which They Don't. Or Maybe Singing, Which I Wouldn't Do For The Capitol In A Million Years. My Mother Tried To Interest Me In A Variety Of Suitable Alternatives From A List Effie Trinket Sent Her. Cooking, Flower Arranging, Playing The Flute. None Of Them Took, Although Prim Had A Knack For All Three. Finally Cinna Stepped In And Offered To Help Me Develop My Passion For Designing Clothes, Which Really Required Development Since It Was Non-existent.

So Haymitch, What Do You Think Of The Games Have One Hundred Percent More Competitors Than Usual?” Asks Caesar. Haymitch Shrugs. “i Don’t See That It Makes That Much Difference. They’ll Still Be One Hundred Percent As Stupid As Usual, So I Figure My Odds Will Be Roughly The Same.