It was breakfast time. Peeta and Katniss sat next to each other, happily awaiting being served. The smell of sausage filled the air as the first course was rolled in by the redheaded Avoxes. Silently, they put heaping amounts on each person's flowery plate. Peeta, who had his on the edge dropped his on accident. He felt embarrassed as he knelt down to pick up his wasted food from the hardwood floor.
"Peeta, do get off the floor," Effie said loudy in a tone that insisted that picking up his mess was beneath him. "Let them do their job!"
"They didn't drop the food, I did," he countered, annoyed with how uptight she was being. "It's my mess; let me handle it."
"Fine. But don't blame me if your hands get dirty," she scoffed.
Without words, Peeta continued picking up his food. When he was finished, Haymitch decided to join them.
"Good morning, ladies," his words were slurred. He walked over to the alcohol cabinet, and took out a bottle of silver rum. "How 'bout a toast? … No one? … Fine."
"What's to toast to? We are being taken away from our families, our friends, and our lives. So tell me, Haymitch, what the hell do you want to celebrate?" Peeta frightened the whole room.
"Why don't you sit down?" Effie asked when Peeta rose from his chair.
"I'm fine," he chuckled. He walked over to Haymitch who lay in the middle of the floor, drunk and upset that Peeta had gotten angry. "I'm fine, we're all fine. … Until we go into the arena. Against our will. To fight to the death with people who may be trained better. And even if we are the lucky two in the end," he looked at Katniss, "Only one of us can win."
His words brought the room to the realization that they had been avoiding the entire trip.