[He noticed how she watched him, how she moved. She gave off the feeling of a cornered animal--confused but ready to strike at any threat. It would probably serve her well in the arena.]

The short of it is that they thought you'd be fun to put in an arena full of people ordered to kill each other and see who lived. There's a lot of stuff in there about politics and striking fear into the hearts of the districts we represent, but we're still being thrown in a fancy gladiator match so the rich and powerful can watch what happens.

[His hands are quick on the cutting board. Slicing all the vegetables--perhaps with a little more force than necessary.] On the bright side, if you die in the arena, they'll usually bring you back to life so your fans can obsess over you until the next arena. [He spares a glance upwards, arching an eyebrow. He didn't think that side was bright at all.] Do you want a drink?

[Lord knows he did when he found all this out.]