I send a silent thank-you to Dalton for suggesting I wash off the makeup. How ridiculous, how perverse I would feel presenting that painted Capitol mask to these people. The damage, the fatigue, the imperfections. That's how they recognize me, why I belong to them.

“Something inside me twists as I remember another voice. Rue. In the arena. When…”

“Peeta, you were supposed to wake me after a couple of hours," I say."For what? …”

“Fine. Somebody else can arrange to get the stupid goat knocked up.”

“Upon this crown my pledge I give,To my last breath,I hold this choice, I will y…”