The rock climbing instructor rubs her right eye every time she mentions a clove hitch. It only takes a few brief questions to find out that she tied it incorrectly on one expedition. The rope slipped and snapped around hard enough to blind her in one eye. She's had it replaced, along with several other organs damaged by the fall, but she still gets a twinge meeting her own gaze in the mirror. Something is a little off about that eye, now that I'm looking for it.

The first-aid instructor, who keeps straightening his wig, is still hoping to ditch this job to become a stylist. The man at the fire-making stand is having some trouble with his girlfriend.

It's so strange... They're nothing but little twitches, but they aren't random. They mean something. And with a little logic, it's not that hard to piece it all together.

The hardest part is spotting the tics, but today, all of a sudden, I know when to look for them. My bracelet... I always thought it was just some memento from my mother, some sort of sign that she did care about me, even if she wasn't able to care for me. It may still be that, but there's something more to it after all. I'm not sure how, but it always tightens a little when someone's lying, when they're hiding something. And then it's just a matter of focusing and analyzing.

This kind of perception... it's neat, but it's awfully distracting when I'm trying to learn survival skills. I won't complain since it may have some sort of use in the arena, but it's hard to sit through a lecture when the guy is making it so obvious he's hiding something. Luckily, most of the training is hands-on, so I'm not at a terrible disadvantage. Maybe this will get easier to handle as time goes on.

I try to coax a fire into life about four more times before putting the flint and steel wool down.

"Trucy?"

She blows at her tinder until the spark flickers out. With a huff, she sits up and turns to me. "Yes?"

"When it comes to Athena touching her necklace... Do you notice that sort of thing a lot?"

She folds her arms, kicking a stray piece of wood onto her pile. "I guess. It's a lot easier to pick up on tells when you know when the person is going to lie." Smiling, she clasps her hands behind her back. It's hard to tell with the gloves, but I don't think she has a similar bracelet. "It looks like you're already better than me at picking them out."

"Um, thanks."

She glowers at her fire pit. "Although you don't seem any better than me at this."

Sighing, I pick up the tools. "He said our technique was fine. It's just hard to get a fire going sometimes."

"Yeah... We can try for a little longer." She lets out a breath and grumbles something about flash paper before giving the fire another try.

The other tributes seem focused on training for the rest of the afternoon; I can overhear a few of them chatting from time to time, but Districts 3 and 7 both see fit to leave us alone today. I have no objections. Like Maya said, we need to forge alliances, but we need to learn on our own as well. I have two more days to do both.

Once the gymnasium closes, I have time to wash off and put on fresh clothes before dinner. Just me, Trucy, Maya, and the escort. So, slightly more peaceful than lunch. I'm still pretty full—maybe I should have tried at least one fighting station this afternoon—but I do my best to eat what's in front of me.

I manage to stay awake long enough afterwards to think of working out. I don't know if so little on such short notice is going to do me any good, but there's not much else to do besides look out at the city. It's so crowded and flat, I can't see any spots that would be good for Chords of Steel.

Speaking of which, these rooms aren't as soundproof as I had first believed. There has to be somewhere I can do my morning warm-ups without waking my district partner.

I slip back into the sitting room to ask Maya, but the only one there now is the escort. Then again, I'm sure he knows this building as well as anyone else.

"Um, Your Honor, sir?" I walk past the side of the television.

With a jolt, he blinks his eyes open and throws his gaze around the room until he sees me.

"Oh. Mr. Justice." His face returns to its usual stern look. "Is there something I can help you with?"

I step up next to him but don't take a seat. "Yes, actually. Are these the only rooms tributes have access to? It would be great to find a more private place for my vocal workouts in the morning."

"Goodness, yes!" He draws his arms back, and I start to think my immediate neighbor wasn't the only one I woke up early this morning. "If all of that shouting is really necessary, you can try the roof. The elevator used to go up there, but now I believe we must take the stairs."

"Huh. Why is that?"

"I... I'm not sure." He frowns. I feel like he may have known at one point but has long since forgotten.

"All right." I nod. "Thank you. I'll go check it out now."

"Very well. Be careful going up all those stairs."

"Yes, Your Honor."

The stairway door is on the same wall as the elevator. Since every district has a corresponding floor, I guess I'll be going up eight flights or more. Well, I wanted a workout.

I charge up at a steady pace and come to a stop when the stairs end. The door in front of me reads "Floor 13." Is the roof right above District 12's floor, or do I have to find another stairway? I didn't get a good look at the building while I was outside. But I'm sure if this were somewhere I'm not supposed to be, I wouldn't have made it here so easily.

I pull the door open and step into the cool air. Something chimes in the distance, probably from the breeze. As I walk out, the fields of light in the distance give way to clusters and eventually dot after dot of lamps, cars, and buildings far below. Seems like a nice enough place.

The wind carries a flowery smell my way before I shut the door and venture out further. The tower we're staying in must be straight; this space seems about the same as that of our floor. Make sense. District 12 seems to be cheated out of a lot of things, but there's no reason to give them smaller rooms, too.

As I approach the far railing, I hear a sniffle. Sure, the smell of flowers is a little strong, but I don't think that was me just now. Hmm.

I make it to a wide stand full of wind chimes before a silhouette presents itself. Seated, back against one of the vine-shaped metal supports, is someone with messy hair and... a visor.

"Clay...?"

He stiffens but looks up at me when I step closer. Wiping at his eyes, he chokes for a second. "Hey."

"Hey." I waver before sitting down next to him. "Are... you okay?"

He pulls his jacket more tightly around him. "I d-don't... want to die..."

"Oh..." Wincing, I fold my arms.

He tilts his chin up until he's staring out at the sky. "I want to be an astronaut, a-a real one. Maybe I'm just a District kid, but I've been working hard, studying my stuff. I know the Capitol's planning to send out a few shuttles. Maybe I'd only be support crew, maybe the rest of Panem would never know m-my name, but I always knew I'd have a chance to go out among the stars if I tried hard enough." He sobs. "But this—!" He slams a hand onto the rooftop. "This was never supposed to happen! I don't want to kill anyone, I don't want to die, I—I just want to go out there... I want to be closer to the stars, I want to see them from the moon! But just look!" His voice breaks harder. "With all this light, the sky's already faded...! They're already taking the stars away from me!"

Smearing his tears across his cheeks, he curses quietly.

I swallow, gazing out at the stars. It's true. There are a lot fewer of them out here than at home.

I want to tell him that it'll be okay. I want to tell him that he has a chance, that this is just one more obstacle to overcome before he finds some Capitol rocket and blasts off.

But I can't say anything like that. If that's what really happens, it's over my dead body. I can't give up on myself, either, Clay. You understand that, right...? I don't want to die, either, Clay.

We're both in the same boat. In the end, we won't be able to save each other. We may not even be able to save ourselves. But right now, we're both here, we're both afraid, and there's still something we can do.

"Clay." My voice is a little rough, but at least I haven't burst into tears myself.

He faces me, although it takes him a second to drag his gaze back from the far distance.

I get to my feet and offer him a hand. "Stand up."

He stares at me. "Okay..." he gets out before letting me help him up. He wobbles a bit, but his shoulders are set.

I give him a nod. "What I want you to do is stand tall, and yell—at the top of your lungs—'I'm Clay Terran and I'm fine!' "

He waits for his breathing to calm down a little. "I... I'm Clay Terran and I'm fine!"

"Come on, louder!"

He widens his stance and takes a deep breath. "I'm Clay Terran and I'm fine!"

I shout extra loud to push him on. "I'm Apollo Justice and I'm fine!"

"I'm Clay Terran and I'm fine!"

"I'm Apollo Justice and I'm fine!"

"I—ha!—I'm Clay Terran and I'm fine!"

Did he laugh just now? I can't help but smile. "I'm Apollo Justice and I'm fine!"

"Haha! I'm Clay Terran and I'm fine!" He dissolves into laughter and has to press on his knees to keep from doubling over.

"I'm A-Apollo..." Before I know what's happening, I'm laughing, too.

I can't say why. Just because someone right next to me is laughing? Because I'm glad I could cheer him up?

It's not that important, though. All that matters is we are laughing. Our situation hasn't changed, but right now, we're here, we're alive, and we're just fine.