“He never lets go of Annie's hand. Not when they walk, not when they eat. I doubt he ever plans to.”

“I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.”

“I do plan on saying one or two things to him when we're allowed an hour for goodbyes. To let him know how essential he's been to me all these years. How better my life has been for knowing him.”

“One more time? For the audience?" he says. His voice isn't angry. It's hollow, which is worse. Already the boy with the bread is slipping away from me.I take his hand, holding on tightly, preparing for the cameras, and dreading the moment when I will finally have to let go.”

“Katniss?" He drops my hand and I take a step, as if to catch my balance."It was all for the Games," Peeta says. "How you acted.""Not all of it," I say, tightly holding onto my flowers."Then how much? No, forget that. I guess the real question is what's going to be left when we get home?" he says."I don't know. The closer we get to District Twelve, the more confused I get," I say. He waits, for further explanation, but none's forthcoming."Well, let me know when you work it out," he says, and the pain in his voice is palpable.”

“Go to sleep," he says softly. His hand brushes the lose strands of my hair off my forehead. Unlike the staged kisses and caresses so far, this gesture seems natural and comforting. I don't want him to stop and he doesn't. He's still stroking my hair when I fall asleep.”

“It's ideal really. They will come up with a plan. No one will like it. Everyone will feel they have been treated unfairly, but will be happy that their neighbors feel the same. And that is the nature of compromise. Now let's go eat an awful lot.”