A brittle laugh, at that first question. "I should make clear - the Gamemakers would never resort to something so drastic." It's a bizarre distinction to draw, to be sure - after all, only a few years ago they killed twenty-three of their twenty-four Tributes every year, without remorse. But the Capitol has always drawn this distinction, in name at least, between the indiscriminate murder of Tributes by each other on the screens, and the indiscriminate murder of the Tributes outside of the Arena. One is the natural order of things. The other would be an atrocity.
The distinction is one ingrained into Cyrus' belief system, into his upbringing and his political understanding, into the assumptions on which his place in the world rests. The two ideas feel, to him, almost irreconcilable, at the least only tenuously related.
In truth, Cyrus doesn't know whether or not the Gamemakers would consider such a drastic move, considering that the Tributes no longer come from the Districts themselves. He doesn't think they would; but he finds himself reluctant to declare the idea impossible, if, say, true rebellion were ever to break out. ...Not that he sees any wisdom in explaining these nuances of opinion to a Tribute. That's all he needs - a rumor that Cyrus Reagan was actively out for all their deaths. Absurd.
There is no shock at the idea in his tone, or in his posture. He doesn't look uncomfortable with the idea. His rejection of it is a light warning, a gentle reminder that he's only entertaining a hypothetical.
"...If such a suggestion were to come before the Cabinet-- well. The decision would be President Snow's." Cyrus would have a vote, of course. A case to state. A yea or a nay that carried terrible weight. But that was different from the culpability of being the one to point the finger and say, Do it. "But, of course-- as I said-- it would never go so far." With a smile-- "President Snow enjoys the Games as much as any of us here in the Capitol. Why wipe the slate, as you say, when we still have so much to learn about all of you?"
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The distinction is one ingrained into Cyrus' belief system, into his upbringing and his political understanding, into the assumptions on which his place in the world rests. The two ideas feel, to him, almost irreconcilable, at the least only tenuously related.
In truth, Cyrus doesn't know whether or not the Gamemakers would consider such a drastic move, considering that the Tributes no longer come from the Districts themselves. He doesn't think they would; but he finds himself reluctant to declare the idea impossible, if, say, true rebellion were ever to break out. ...Not that he sees any wisdom in explaining these nuances of opinion to a Tribute. That's all he needs - a rumor that Cyrus Reagan was actively out for all their deaths. Absurd.
There is no shock at the idea in his tone, or in his posture. He doesn't look uncomfortable with the idea. His rejection of it is a light warning, a gentle reminder that he's only entertaining a hypothetical.
"...If such a suggestion were to come before the Cabinet-- well. The decision would be President Snow's." Cyrus would have a vote, of course. A case to state. A yea or a nay that carried terrible weight. But that was different from the culpability of being the one to point the finger and say, Do it. "But, of course-- as I said-- it would never go so far." With a smile-- "President Snow enjoys the Games as much as any of us here in the Capitol. Why wipe the slate, as you say, when we still have so much to learn about all of you?"
(We have come too far to reverse our course now.)