"Katniss, I really think we should go with my idea," Peeta smiled at me, clearly trying to win me over.
"But I don't like your idea, and I'm refusing it," I replied. Peeta's smile faded, and I could see the pain in his eyes. "I'm sorry, Peeta, but I really don't like your idea. It's just not my style, and it doesn't fit."
"And please tell me how your idea fits better than fine," Peeta retorted. I scowled, and stalked off, grabbed my bow from the entryway to our house in what used to be the Victors' Village, and now is what little remains of District 12. I took my bow and arrows to the target I had out in the back yard. I didn't exactly feel like going out to the woods that day, as I had been puking earlier that morning.
I could hear Peeta making a ruckus in the kitchen, and I assumed he was making cheese buns to try to apologize for the fight we had earlier. It's what he always does. He's predictable that way.
I shot my bow several times, but I couldn't get the argument out of my head. Eventually, I gave up on shooting and walked back into the house. The smell of cheese buns reached me as soon as I opened the door. "I still haven't forgiven you, you know!" I shouted as I removed my boots.
"Katniss, seriously?" Peeta emerged from the kitchen with his apron still on, covered in flour.
"Yes, and I'm sticking to my idea."
"Katniss, can't we come to a compromise?"
"No."
"Oh my goodness, Katniss, it's just a name! Why is the name of our kid SUCH a big deal?" Peeta said, exasperated.
"I'm naming her Hope Primrose, and that is that. There is nothing you can do to change my mind," I replied.
"Not even cheese buns?"