Oceana snorts. "Exactly. Not to mention the look in some of the Tributes' eyes when you come at them with a pair of scissors." She scoffs. "They obviously don't realize that I'm as graceful and deadly as a fucking giraffe on stilts."

He has a point, it occurs to her, as she chomps on another olive. "That's not a bad idea," she muses. "You'd think they'd at least give you a--a support staff. I'd die without my assistants, but you kinda get thrown to the wolves."