Looking with raised eyebrows between Dave's shirt and the crumpled cloth in Gannicus's own hands, it took Gannicus a moment to decipher what it was Dave was saying. When he realised, he laughed a deep, rolling laugh and threw the crumpled shirt in Dave's direction. The young man was clearly more at home in a t-shirt than Gannicus was; he might as well have it.

"I do not care for it! Remove it from sight, then I shall not be asked to wear it once again." Shirt thrown, Gannicus raised a sprinkled hot dog in toast to his fellow District mate. "This food, however, I care most fucking deeply for."

Truly heartfelt sentiments, but from a man still in blissful ignorance about the effects the food he had feasted on in the Arena.