mockingjalie:

Seasons change
And you grow a little older
Nothing stays the same
The past becomes the future

See, like this. I’m smiling at you even though you’re aggravating me. 

“Even in the arena, you two had some sort of system worked out, didn’t you?” asks Peeta. His voice is quieter now. “Something I wasn’t a part of.”
“No. Not officially. I just could tell what Haymitch wanted me to do by what he sent, or didn’t sent,” I say.
“Well, I never had that opportunity. Because he never sent me anything until you showed up.” says Peeta.
I haven’t thought much about this. How it must have looked from Peeta’s perspective when I appeared in the arena having received burned medicine and bread when he, who was at death’s door, had gotten nothing.