If You Appeal To The Crowd, Either

When I Ask Plutarch About His Absence, He Just Shakes His Head And Says, "he Couldnt Face It." "haymitch? Not Able To Face Something? Wanted A Day Off, More Likely," I Say. "i Think His Actual Words Were 'i Couldn't Face It Without A Bottle,'" Says Plutarch.

‎i'm Not Going Anywhere. I'm Going To Stay Right Here And Cause All Kinds Of Trouble.

The Ones I Loved Fly As Birds In The Open Sky Above Me. Soaring, Weaving, Calling To Me To Join Them. I Want So Badly To Follow Them, But The Seawater Saturates My Wings, Making It Impossible To Lift Them. The Ones I Hated Have Taken To The Water, Horrible Scaled Things That Tear My Salty Flesh With Needle Teeth. Biting Again And Again. Dragging Me Beneath The Surface.

One Slip. One Slip In Thousands. The Odds Had Been Entirely In Her Favor. But It Hadn't Mattered.

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.