Author's Note: I've been staring at my laptop screen for days and days trying to finish this chapter. It's more of a filler so not many exciting things happen but I hope you enjoy it anyway!

You'd think that being away for six months at a time would give you plenty to talk about but it really didn't. It wasn't really like being on a holiday where you see all this new stuff and do all these cliché activities, it was work. And talking about what you did at work every day is boring for both yourself and everyone else. Besides I'm not really meant to talk about anything the army get up to, where I've been deployed or what I've been asked to do. As much as I say I couldn't wait to get home, now I'm here and there isn't much to talk about, I'm itching to get out again. I love my family and I love my home but after the huge open spaces of where I've been deployed, this little house seems rather claustrophobic. Sitting here watching the television for the third hour on end the feeling is starting to creep up again. With the sun shining outside and a good few hours left of the day I decide it's time to go for another wonder though the town. Looking over to see if Jake looks up for a walk, I discover that he is lying fast asleep, head on Prim's lap and sprawled over half of the couch. I'm honestly not surprised with the amount of time the pair had spent playing outside in the garden. Looks like I'm out alone this time – the first time in who knows how long.

"I'm going to pop to town to get some bits. Does anyone need anything?" I ask to no particular person as I stand up and walk over to the staircase banister to retrieve my jacket. With three shaking heads, I turn around and leave. It's kind of comforting how easy it is to fall into step with my family. There is no running around to do things for each other or tip-toeing around each other, unsure what to do. It's simple. As I open the door a refreshing breeze of wind brushes against my face immediately soothing me. Sometimes I do think I could be mentally fucked up. Even if it was minor.

Not knowing what to actually do with myself, my feet take the lead and set off in the direction of the town. The winding streets look exactly the same from when I was a young girl playing outside, studying my neighbours' flowers in their front gardens, later on with Gale's company. Gale had been something like a brother to me. We spent most of our time together, ignoring the rest of the world with each other. We both preferred to be alone and away from everyone else and their dramas, just one day we were alone together. We've kind of drifted apart since I left for the army. Neither of us are too good with words when we are facing each other so sending each other letters was never really an option for us, so we spend months on end not talking to each other. I really need to make an effort to spend some time with him whilst I'm home.

Making that as a mental note, I look up to a sign indicating that I've reached a small little pub called 'The Local District'. It's a quaint little building with a cottage look to it, and a couple of tables set up outside. Why not? It's not like I have anything else to do. Walking over and opening the wooden front door with a squeak, my eyes are greeted with more tables with red cushioned seats, a squared bar that acts as a centre piece of sort of the pub and pictures upon pictures that line the wall, each of something completely unrelated to the last. Cosy. Scanning the bar I see there are four customers seated. One pair of men and two individuals. None of who look up at my approach, which I actually respect. Walking up to the bar a woman walks from around the other side to greet me.

"Afternoon. What can I get you?" She asks with a smile. She patiently waits for my response as I consider the bottles of liquor lined on shelves behind her and the beers labelled on the taps. Flustered with choice, I say the first thing that comes to mind.

"I'll just have a Budweiser please." I ask fishing some money out of my pocket. Nodding her head in acceptance, the woman turns around and bends down to open one of three mini fridges on the other side of the bar. As I wait, I look around at the other customers. One man sits with his back against the bar and is staring at a television mounted on the wall where the day's sports highlights are being shown. There is nothing notable about him. Another is a woman. She sits wrapped in a woven blanket and sips what looks like straight vodka. Her dark hair is slightly matted, she looks small but tough. I recognise her. Maybe from town. The last two men sit together and are chatting too softly that I can hear. There are more than a few empty glasses occupying the bar in front of them, although they are slightly closer to one of the men than the other. One is middle-aged who wears a sort of beanie hat which leaves strands of curled hair poking out from it. I can make out that his speech is slurred and from the evidence of about a dozen empty glasses in front of him I assume he is drunk. I recognise him too but I'm not sure where from. Our town is so small; it's not likely I haven't bumped into him at some time or another. The last man I know where he is from; the ashy blonde hair, the stocky, muscly build and the familiar soft blue eyes. It's the waiter Jake fell in love with from the small bakery that Gale took me to in town. As he speaks to the drunk, my eyes linger on how his jaw flexes and how when he smiles, a small glimmer of teeth shows. He keeps his eyes fixed on the man the whole time, even if the drunk turns away, making sure he gives him his full attention. Now out of the apron he wore at the bakery; he is wearing a white t-shirt that hugs his body in the best kind of way which shows off his muscular arms and reveals his slim but muscular figure. His jeans aren't too baggy but also are not those horrible skinny jeans that teenagers wear and think make them look like rock gods. He looks good. As my eyes drink in the sight of this man as they do not usually do, I realise that the blue in his eyes have shifted from the man in front of him to me. I've been caught staring at him. What feels like an electric shock is sent through me as our gazes remain fixed to one another. I'm in unfamiliar territory and I don't know what to do but he seems to. The sides of his mouth gently raise up for form a soft smile.

"Here you go girl." The voice of the woman rips my attention from him and back to where she is placing my bottle of Bud on the bar. I hand the money over to her and try and avoid sneaking a peak back to the guy not a couple of feet away from me. Taking a sip of the beer I pull out my outdated phone for something else to look at.

"So where's the uniform?" His voice is smooth but firm at the same time. I turn around slightly so I'm look at him but not completely facing him. Body language says a lot and I plan on not giving anything away. He leans against the bar on his side, his whole body facing me, his companion left behind him with his head resting on the bar.

"Excuse me?" I'm rather surprised that that's the opening line of a conversation. Looking at him I see a hint of panic in his eyes in reaction to my response.

"I didn't mean that in a kinky way." He laughs "I meant the military uniform. You came into the bakery the other day. Ham sandwich right?" He has a cool demeanour about him, even in that slight panicked moment. His words come out smoothly. A man with a way with words can be a dangerous thing. Especially if he has looks to match.

"I'm on leave. Not gonna wear those clothes if I don't need to." I simply state taking a sip of my beer. Not really knowing what else to do.

"Of course." He smiles back and mirrors my action by taking a swig of his own drink. A silence falls between us which makes me yearn to turn around and leave again but something in his eyes keeps me stuck where I am. Luckily for me, his companion behind him starts making a noise which catches the attention of the guy in front of me.

"What's that Haymitch?" The guy turns around to examine his friend who mutters something non comprehensible. The man I guess is called Haymitch lifts his head and repeats himself in a slur.

"A woman in the army? Ha!" He said it with a smirk on his face and instantly fire ignites within me. So many insults come rushing to mind to fire at him.

"What do you mean by that?" I ask trying to keep my voice level and not let my anger get the best of me. I see the panic return in the bakery waiter's eyes but ignore it.

"Surely the army would want some sturdier people defending their country? Not people who will scream and run away." He says chuckling to himself. I can sense the eyes of everyone in the pub pointing in our direction.

"As the anger rises once more, I physically rise and stand up to my fullest height and move so I'm closer to him. He reeks of alcohol but this earns no sympathy for me – no reason for me to ignore the drunken comments dripping from this man's mouth.

"And what the fuck have you done you misogynistic old prick. What use would a drunken fool be on the battlefield?! You'd be a liability where as I'd be the saving your fucking ass." The adrenaline that accompanies this anger surges through me and tries to make my arms move; to punch him – to throttle him – to do something other than lie limply by my side.

"Surely that sort of temper wouldn't be tolerated. Could become trigger happy if you had a gun in your hand right now sweetheart." He smiles a wicked kind of smile as if he thinks he has something over me.

"Unlike some, we are trained to control our cravings. Like my craving to punch you in the face unlike your craving for copious amounts of alcohol." I respond, finishing the last of my beer now ready to leave this asshole.

"Ouch, strike where it hurts. Ma'am can I get some water over here for this burn." He laughs, pointing the last comment to the woman behind the bar who is watching us carefully, probably trying to figure out if she needs to kick us out or not. To save her from making a decision, the bakery waiter finally finds his voice.

"Right Haymitch, I think it is time to go home. Could you call a taxi please?" He asks the barwoman. She nods and walks off to retrieve a phone. Next the guy turns to me.

"I'm really sorry for my friend's behaviour. He's never really been the one to make friends." He says as he reaches behind his head and scratches his neck. He looks embarrassed I think. "My name is Peeta." He adds, extending his hand out offering it to me. I gingerly accept it in a rather awkward hand shake. His hands are rather sweaty – you'd think that he was the one just in an argument.

"Katniss." Is all I offer, the anger still threatening to resurface.

"Katniss.." He repeats with a smile on his face. "Well Katniss, again I apologise and I offer you a free cake of your choice from the bakery when you next come in." The smile still painted on his face. I attempt a small smile back and with that he turns around, pretty much lifts Haymitch off of the stool he is sitting on and leaves the small pub, leaving me in a mix of emotions.