If you appeal to the crowd, either by being humorous or brutal or eccentric, you gain favor.

Just one more thing. I kill Snow.

Tomorrow's a hunting day," I say. "I won't be much of a help with that," Peeta says. "I've never hunted before." "I'll kill and you cook," I say. "And you can always gather." "I wish there was some sort of bread bush out there," says Peeta.

He puts the chain with the locket around my neck, then rests his hand over the spot where our baby would be. “You’re going to make a great mother, you know,” he says. He kisses me one last time and goes back to Finnick.

I keep hoping that as time passes by, we’ll regain the ease between us, but part of me knows it’s futile. There’s no going back.

I will never have a life with Gale even if I want to.

I don't know how to make people like me. Cinna, how do you make people like you?