Roland listens closely. It may do him no practical good to know of this girl, the one he'll never know, one among hundreds, perhaps more, who've died in this place at the hands of the gamemakers and the Capitolites and their bloodlust. But Luna tells him a part of this girl's story, a story which is over now and over for good, and he stores it in his mind where it will not be lost.

"Maybe they are." He shrugs, knows that people in district six are the same as people anywhere else, knows that they interest him just as little as any of the people of this country do, and knows that if this is what drives one more of his fellow prisoners to stand against their captors in any small way she can, then his own feelings on her district or on any other matter about as much as a fart in the wind.

Alright. Helping people like Maglev matters to Luna. He can do something with that. "And what do those people need? What can you do for them?"