He's only heard snatches of the one that goes back to the arena. He wonders if Katniss went through that door willingly or not. He can't imagine why she would.
"Was it your arena?" he can't help but ask, his voice distinctly less teasing and far more analytical -- a slice of the boy who managed to win his Games at 14 instead of the masquerade he now performs as a man. It doesn't hold any meaning to just say an arena; that could be anything. His arena. Johanna's arena. The arena for the 75th Games -- and if it takes them to that arena, what does it mean? And how would they know?
He processes the information about the other place she's been without much comment. There are snatches of the Capitol threaded throughout everyplace here, but it's not so blatant that he can easily say all of this was fabricated by the Capitol. It's frustrating, this game. And he hates how long it's dragged out, itches for something that he understands better.
no subject
"Was it your arena?" he can't help but ask, his voice distinctly less teasing and far more analytical -- a slice of the boy who managed to win his Games at 14 instead of the masquerade he now performs as a man. It doesn't hold any meaning to just say an arena; that could be anything. His arena. Johanna's arena. The arena for the 75th Games -- and if it takes them to that arena, what does it mean? And how would they know?
He processes the information about the other place she's been without much comment. There are snatches of the Capitol threaded throughout everyplace here, but it's not so blatant that he can easily say all of this was fabricated by the Capitol. It's frustrating, this game. And he hates how long it's dragged out, itches for something that he understands better.