Why am I doing it? is the thought that echoes around Stephen's hazy brain, repeating itself so that he can't think of anything else.
He nods, vaguely, at Jason, staring at the ground with a look of abject confusion, letting himself be guided wherever Jason is taking him.
There are so many things about his job that he doesn't like. He doesn't like telling the Tributes that they have to make appearances. He doesn't like telling the new ones that they're here to die. He doesn't like watching people he's come to know come back to the Capitol and try to deal with what they've been through. He doesn't like seeing the empty rooms of the Tributes who don't come back. He'd gotten involved in the Hunger Games in the first place because it was glamorous, because it was important, because he'd wanted to be close to celebrities. But that isn't what it's about now, is it? Why is he staying?
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He nods, vaguely, at Jason, staring at the ground with a look of abject confusion, letting himself be guided wherever Jason is taking him.
There are so many things about his job that he doesn't like. He doesn't like telling the Tributes that they have to make appearances. He doesn't like telling the new ones that they're here to die. He doesn't like watching people he's come to know come back to the Capitol and try to deal with what they've been through. He doesn't like seeing the empty rooms of the Tributes who don't come back. He'd gotten involved in the Hunger Games in the first place because it was glamorous, because it was important, because he'd wanted to be close to celebrities. But that isn't what it's about now, is it? Why is he staying?