“So we’re all heading off into the great unknown, are we?” he asks me. “No,” I say. “Not anymore.” “Worked through the flaws in that plan, did you, sweetheart?” he asks. “Any new ideas?” “I want to start an uprising,” I say. Haymitch just laughs. It’s not even a mean laugh, which is more troubling. It shows he can’t even take me seriously. “Well, I want a drink. You let me know how that works out for you, though,” he says.
