Summary: His world might just be ending, but still he can't help but admire those eyes of hers. Mid-Catching Fire. (Peeta/Katniss.)
"What's your favorite color?" She asks, her head in his lap as he strokes her hair.
It's crazy; how they're about to be thrust into a massacre, knowing one of them definitely won't return, and their conversations are as ordinary as ever.
He knows he'll probably never have a conversation like this with her again, and his willingness to save her instantly becomes fiercer.
Their eyes lock.
"Uh—"
He falters. He knows his favorite color. He's a painter; how wouldn't he? It's orange. But staring into her startlingly intense eyes, he's so tempted to say 'gray'.