I snort a laugh. "No shit. I'm a drunk, honey, not an idiot." With that face, those eyes, there's no one else whose kid he could be. But I can tell the glare I throw her now is more fond than it isn't, before the kid grabs my attention again, waving a fist at me. He's fat, the way babies should be; it's a fair bet he's never gone without a meal. We stare at each other for a while before I snap myself out of it, meeting her eyes again.

"So the bottom line is, look before you leap. Think I can remember that much." I hope I can. It's a reason to keep myself on this side of blacked-out drunk, at least.

But speaking of.

"I sure hope there's a bar in this fancy place," I say with a grin. Katniss's terror, the rage-mask of Peeta's face, all seem a little further away now, a little distant. But not nearly distant enough; to get the sound of her screams out of my head, I'm going to need some liquid assistance, the sooner the better.