There. He’s done it again. Dropped a bomb that wipes out the efforts of every tribute who came before him.
Well, maybe not. Maybe this year he has only lit the fuse on a bomb that the victors themselves have been building. Hoping someone would be able to detonate it. Perhaps thinking it would be me in my bridal gown. Not knowing how much I rely on Cinna’s talents, whereas
Me after reading Mockingjay:
Don't know whether to be grateful because Suzanne Collins ended the series with a happy ending or to be sad because Suzanne Collins killed Finnick
Me after watching Mockingjay Part 2:
Don't know whether to be glad because the director followed the book and actually killed Finnick or to be mad because the director really followed the book and killed Finnick
“I can’t believe you didn’t rescue Peeta.” “I know,” he replies. There’s a sense of incompleteness. And not because he hasn’t apologized. But because we were a team. We had a deal to keep Peeta safe. A drunken, unrealistic deal made in the dark of night, but a deal just the same. And in my heart of hearts, I know we both failed.
“It’s going to be a big, big, big day!!” the woman in front of Peeta giggled, in a bright blue suit and oversized jacket. She apparently was in charge of communication, but the only things she was communicating at the moment were headaches and too much perfume. Walking on high heels, her steps as big as her skirt would allow, she commented on everything they saw. Even the signs at each one of the crossroads. Or why the trash bins were green. Important questions.
Peeta followed his co-workers through the maze that was the Zoo, passing by the big monkeys and some strange birds, until the whole crew from Capitol TV reached a brick building that stood out in the sea of green and bamboos, in front of which people wearing zoo uniforms were waiting. They formed small groups, a mass of brown cargo pants and gray tee-shirts, with radios clipped to their belts or the big pockets, buzzing periodically.