“It’s like when you wouldn’t look at me naked in the arena even though I was half dead. You’re so . . . pure,” he says finally. “I am not!” I say. “I’ve been practically ripping your clothes off every time there’s been a camera for the last year!” “Yeah, but . . . I mean, for the Capitol, you’re pure,” he says, clearly trying to mollify me. “For me, you’re perfect. They’re just teasing you.” “No, they’re laughing at me, and so are you!” I say. “No.” Peeta shakes his head, but he’s still suppressing a smile. I’m seriously rethinking the question of who should get out of these Games alive when
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