With the matter of the petition frustratingly ended, Kili had little to distract him from his memories of the games. Not even the small horde of food he began in his room could quite take the edge off of the fear that took hold of him any time he thought to leave the District 7 suites. Doing so without at least a day's worth of food proved impossible. So, as he moved about the tower, shuffling between the tribute center and what little exploring he could manage before his courage crumbled, he left a trail of crumbs behind him. Some days they were bits of muffins, others pieces of jerky, and sometimes he snacked while walking.

After all, there were few animals to be seen in the capitol and he had no idea how he would survive if any of the refrigerators ever ran out of food. Any venture from the District 7 suites usually ended by mid-afternoon so he could either restock or otherwise prepare for another night of getting outrageously drunk. By the middle of the week, this left him feeling quite hungover and no amount of strange capitol flavored things or food could alleviate the constant headache. Or perhaps, that had been caused by the tight braiding in a different style each day and the rapid drain of any patience with how strange it felt to have half of his dark hair pulled back at any point in time.

At one point, he stopped trying to pull the braids down and simply let them fall out themselves, leaving his hair looking nothing like a proper dwarf's should and more like a rat's nest.