Not like this. He wanted it to be real.

He could have had his choice of any woman in the district. And he chose solitude. Not solitude – that sounds too peaceful. More like solitary confinement.

Shame isn't a strong enough word for what I feel. "You could live a hundred lifetimes and not deserve him, you know," Haymitch says.

People of Panem, we fight, we dare, we end our hunger for justice!” There‘s dead silence on the set. It goes on. And on. Finally, the intercom crackles and Haymitch‘s acerbic laugh fills the studio. He contains himself just long enough to say, “And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies.

I know we promised Haymitch, we'd do exactly what they said, but I don't think he considered this angle.' 'Where is Haymitch, anyway? Isn't he supposed to protect us from this sort of thing?' says Peeta. 'With all that alcohol in him, it's probably not advisable to have him around an open flame,' I say.

He hates me more," says Peeta. "I don't think people in general are his sort of thing.

I thought he wanted it, anyway," I say. "Not like this," Haymitch says. "He wanted it to be real.

Finally, the intercom crackles and Hatmitch's acerbic laugh fills the studio. He contains himself just long enough to say, 'And that, my friends, is how a revolution dies.

He wants as many victors as possible for the cameras to follow in the Capitol. Thinks it makes for better television.""Are you and Beetee going?" I ask."As many young and attractive victors as possible," Haymitch corrects himself. "So, no. We'll be here.