I glance around the refrigerator door as Snow goes into a coughing fit while Plutarch hovers over him. This is probably the best chance I will ever have to fight back against Snow directly. Here’s to you, Louella. I tip open the eagle lid, down the milk, and wipe the moustache from my lip. Then I close the door, holding out the pitcher helplessly. “It’s empty.”
Lmaooooo
