"Gale?" I say, looking back at the drifting snow. The snow flurries over his face, but just enough clear air for his face to be seen. He takes a step forward, stopping to give me a pleading look asking if he could come in. I step to the side to let him in. Peeta as alert as ever walks over and shakes his hand, waving to Gale. "W-what are you doing here?"
Gale looks at me contently, almost cautioned to answer. He looks at me and asks "Can I talk to you in private?"
Before I know it I'm walking down the hallway into the guest bedroom with him. He thanks me for giving him a place to stay, but all I could do was smile.
"Hey," he says, "I know I'm not the most comforting person to stop by your house today, of all days." The 76th Hunger Games would've been today. "But I have some thing that I have to discuss with you." I keep nodding, this is already too much, he brought up the Games, and this isn't going to be good. " Today at 12:00," fifteen minutes from now " there will be leftover Thirteeners on the TV. They are going to do a reeping of anyone, children, adults, or elder. For Gods sake, anyone without a death record is going to be in that bowl, and we need you to help us stop them." He says.
Immediately I think of Prim, the look on her face when she died. Gale, coming here, isn't to make me feel bad. I still want revenge and he wants to help.
"Gale? You're not kidding, are you? They could reap anyone, but what if its one of us? If Prim were here, it could be her. I want to do it."
"Can we have our Mocking-Jay back?" He says
I nodd.