[He says that name as if it comes casually. As if it makes any sense. Peeta doesn't make anything anymore. He's with the Capitol. Peeta probably barely eats anymore. He looks like he's lost fifteen pounds. Peeta's only alive because it tortures her to have to question whether he'd be better off dead.

If he's alive.

No, she didn't take the cake.]

What sort of question is that? [She'd wonder if he was crazy if she didn't already know that he is, a little.] Last night. I saw you last night. It would be difficult enough to avoid each other, wouldn't it, if we were trying?

[The length of rope she pulls out of her jacket has clumsy knots worked into it. They're not as neat as his netmaker's work, but she's new at the art. And she's impatient.]

Peeta isn't here.

[It's not a question, because they both know the answer.]