You know what I miss? More than anything? Coffee. -- Plutarch Heavensbee

Hope, it is the only thing stronger than fear. A little hope is effective, a lot of hope is dangerous.

The question is, what are you going to do?" It turns out the question that's been eating away at me has only ever had one possible answer. But it took Peeta's ploy for me to recognize it. What am I going to do? I take a deep breath. My arms rise slightly - as if recalling the black-and-white wings Cinna gave me - then come to rest at my sides. "I'm going to be the Mockingjay.

I just...I just miss him. And I hate being so alone.

So I learned to hold my tongue and to turn my features into an indifferent mask so that no one could ever read my thoughts.

It's impossible to be the Mockingjay. Impossible to complete even this one sentence. Because now I know that everything I say will be directly taken out on Peeta. Result in his torture. But not his death, no nothing so merciful as that. Snow will ensure that his life is much worse than death.

So that's who Finnick loves, I think. Not his string of fancy lovers in the Capitol. But a poor, mad girl back home.