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I don't know what I expected from my first meeting with Peeta after the announcement. A few hugs and kisses. A little comfort maybe. Not this. I turn to Haymitch. Don't worry, I'll get you more liquor.

Suzanne Collins

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Suzanne Collins
Age: 62
Born: 1962
Born: August 10
Executive Producer
Novelist
Science Fiction Writer
Screenwriter
Writer
Hartford
Connecticut
Suzanne Marie Collins
Suzanne Collins
Maybe
Hug
Turns
Meeting
Littles
Meetings
Little
Kissing
Announcement
Firsts
Expected
Hugs
First
Comfort
Announcements
Turn
Kisses
Worry
Liquor

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He never lets go of Annie's hand. Not when they walk, not when they eat. I doubt he ever plans to.
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Warmblood now a bloodborne death, Will rob your body of it's breath Mark your skin and seal your fate The Underland becomes a plate
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We had to save you because you're the mockingjay, Katniss, says Plutarch. While you live, the revolution lives.
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Then he smiles as if he'd be happy to lie there and gaze at me forever.
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You want a piece of advice? said Ripred. Don't bother. I know what you'll say. The whole thing's stupid, said Gregor. Quite the contrary. I was going to say that life is short. There are only a few good things in it, really. Don't pretend that one isn't happening. said Ripred.
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Let them go, I tell myself. Say good-bye and forget them. I do my best, thinking of them one by one, releasing them like birds from the protective cages inside me, locking the doors against their return.
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When you're in the arena...you just remember who the enemy is - Haymitch
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I take a few breaths to calm myself, step back, and lift Buttercup by the scruff of the neck. I should've drowned you when I had the chance. His ears flatten and he raises a paw. I hiss before he gets a chance, which seems to annoy him a little, since he considers hissing his own personal sound of contempt.
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Star-crossed lovers desperate to get home together. Two hearts beating as one. Romance.
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Maybe the other tributes are out there beating one another senseless. Which would be fine. - Katniss -
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He became my confidante, someone with whom I could share thoughts I could never voice...In exchange, he trusted me with his.
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Roses. Wolf mutts. Tributes. Frosted Dolphins. Friends. Mockingjays. Stylists. Me. Everything screams in my dreams tonight.
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Katniss: 'What about you? Ive seen you in the market. You can lift hundred pound bags of flour'. I snap at him Tell him that. Thats not nothing. Peeta: Yes and Im sure the arena will be full of bags of flour for me to chuck at people.
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I can't help comparing what I have with Gale to what I'm pretending to have with Peeta. How I never question Gale's motives while I do nothing but doubt the latter's. It's not a fair comparison really. Gale and I were thrown together by a mutual need to survive. Peeta and I know the other's survival means our own death. How do you sidestep that?
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People deal with me, but they are genuinely fond of Prim. Maybe there will be enough fondness to keep her alive.
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You're hideous, you know that, right?
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Remembering from last year how Haymitch's gifts are often timed to send a message, I make a note to myself. Be friends with Finnick. You'll get food.
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I do think you're mad and I'll still go with you.
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I killed you. And you. And you.
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I wonder how she'll make up her mind. Oh, that I do know. I can just catch Gale's last words through the layer of fur. Katniss will pick whoever she thinks she can't survive without.
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