Tuck In Your Tail, Little Duck.

I Feel Like I Owe Him Something, And I Hate Owing People. Maybe If I Had Thanked Him At Some Point, I'd Be Feeling Less Conflicted Now. I Thought About It A Couple Of Times, But The Opportunity Never Seemed To Present Itself. And Now It Never Will. Because We're Going To Be Thrown Into An Arena To Fight To The Death. Exactly How Am I Supposed To Work In A Thank-you In There? Somehow It Just Won't Seem Sincere If I'm Trying To Slit His Throat.

The Rules Of The Hunger Games Are Simple. In Punishment For The Uprising, Each Of The Twelve Districts Must Provide One Girl And One Boy, Called Tributes, To Participate. The Twenty-four Tributes Will Be Imprisoned In A Vast Outdoor Arena That Could Hold Anything From A Burning Desert To A Frozen Wasteland. Over A Period Of Several Weeks, The Competitors Must Fight To The Death. The Last Tribute Standing Wins.

Katniss Everdeen, You Have Caused A Spark, Wich Left Unattended, May Cause A Spark That Could Cause A Whole Rebelion

Who Says I Can't Handle It? I Can Handle It," Said Gregor Obviously Not Handling It.

Really, The Combination Of The Scabs And The Ointment Looks Hideous. I Can't Help Enjoying His Distress. "poor Finnick. Is This The First Time In Your Life You Haven't Looked Pretty?" I Say. "it Must Be. The Sensation's Completely New. How Have You Managed It All These Years?" He Asks. "just Avoid Mirrors. You'll Forget About It," I Say. "not If I Keep Looking At You," He Says.