"I got one pretty girl, but I'm pretty sure she's too young for you, Jolie." Not that Jolie doesn't look plenty good for her age, but Jason's sure that at least half of that is a layer of facepaint so thick you could use it as a landing pad. Not that he says that out loud. He has a tendency to spit things out and then backtrack, but there are some things that can't be explained away from just being antagonistic and rude.

"You hear that they're not even going to let the Stylists decide on the colors for the upcoming crowning? Of course you've heard. You'd have had to, since they'd want you to scrap all your plans."

Jason had been planning on using the crowning as an opportunity to showcase and de-homogenize the relative oatmeal of his Tributes, to highlight personality traits he would later nail into the public consciousness with the intent of a hammer and the deftness of a scalpel. That that's been taken from him seems, to him, an example of how the world is conspiring to make his life all the more difficult.

"We had more creativity in kindergarten. So. Any favorites of yours? Promise I'm not using it to try and gain an edge." He bats his eyelashes as if playing coy, but it always looks a little strange on his face, as if he can't quite commit to it.