It Starts At Midnight.

Do I Really Want Him Dead? What I Want... What I Want Is To Have Him Back.

Four People Wheel Out A Huge Wedding Cake From A Side Room. Most Of The Guests Back Up, Making Way For This Rarity, This Dazzling Creation With Blue-green, White-tipped Icing Waves Swimming With Fish And Sailboats, Seals And Sea Flowers. But I Push My Way Through The Crowd To Confirm What I Knew At First Sight. As Surely As The Embroidery Stitches In Annie's Gown Were Done By Cinna's Hand, The Frosted Flowers On The Cake Were Done By Peeta's.

Is That Why You Hate Me?" I Ask. "partly," She Admits. "jealousy Is Certainly Involved. I Also Think You're A Little Hard To Swallow. With Your Tacky Romantic Drama And Your Defender-of-the-helpless Act. Only It Isn't An Act, Which Makes You More Unbearable. Please Feel Free To Take This Personally.

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.

Desperate, Yet No Longer Alone After That Day, Because We'd Found Each Other.