When Katniss returned to her room after today's run, she found a box marked with Haymitch's uneven scrawl on her doorstop. Of course she knew what it was, but that didn't mean she had to open it right away
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Coming fresh from his afternoon spent watching Plaything Saga 3, Wesley maybe wasn't quite prepared for the exact opposite of Pixar animated joy -- which was the tapes of the Hunger Games. Unfortunately, he didn't know what awaited him inside Katniss' room, so as he passed her open door, he knocked anyway.
Then he saw the box full of tapes, and he made the connection.
"True," Wesley conceded. See! Already they were narrowing down the... agonizing process.
"And -- really it's in your best interest to watch the Quarter Quells, yes?" he tried. "To get some idea of, er, the difference, I suppose." He thought back to what he knew about them. "They're every twenty-five years, right? So you've never seen one live."
He really was trying to be constructive. Trying being the operative word.
"Haymitch didn't send the last one," she said, frowning as she looked through the discs. "It was his own, though. Maybe he has plans to show us that one himself. Otherwise, we're playing the odds here, that the victors will be relatively young. I imagine if there's anyone older, we can watch their Games when we're traveling to the Capitol."
"Absolutely," he agreed, still going for that whole 'constructive' angle. "And you're already a team," he added. "You work well with one another, so there's no need to re-learn all your strategy."
Wesley Wyndam-Pryce: Finding silver linings in murder contests since 1992.
"Right," he said softly, nodding. "So... playing up that angle, then." Then he started to realize what she was getting at. "Oh! You can't possibly think I'd have any objections to that," he said with a half-smile.
"I just -- if you're going to watch, I didn't want you to be...unprepared. It's already going to be hard enough," she said quietly. "Professor Skywalker can hack the channel, by the way."
Then he saw the box full of tapes, and he made the connection.
"Oh," he said. "Are those --?"
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"You have to study all these?" he murmured, picking up one of the tapes in disgust. "Seems like a particularly cruel add-on to your sentence."
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She nudged the stack of discs that were her own Games. "I don't have to watch those, at least. I sort of had a front-row seat."
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"And -- really it's in your best interest to watch the Quarter Quells, yes?" he tried. "To get some idea of, er, the difference, I suppose." He thought back to what he knew about them. "They're every twenty-five years, right? So you've never seen one live."
He really was trying to be constructive. Trying being the operative word.
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It really did scare him that Capitol-talk got him thinking this way.
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Wesley Wyndam-Pryce: Finding silver linings in murder contests since 1992.
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Because that wasn't awkward or anything.
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"Er," he said. "To... get out safely?"
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