"Did I hear you mention Clementine," came a voice from behind Mindy. Stephen Reagan was holding a drink of his own, smiling cheerily in vampire fangs. The strategy he and Clem had worked out had been for Clem to act like a lost little girl, sweet and innocent and tragic, until the Arena came.

The cat was already out of the bag for the Capitol, since Clem had dropped a brick on Susannah Dean's head, but, well. With any luck, the other Tributes would still be underestimating Clem.

"You're not doing my work for me, are you? Or are you sabotaging your District's competition?" The words were breezy, carefree, devoid of bite: he's teasing, but curious.