Peeta went outside to get some air. He just needed a moment.
It was quiet but faint giggles punctuated the air from over by the pool, and he did not need to investigate to know who it was, or what was going on.
As one of tributes with the best physical advantage, Cato drew a lot of attention. If you were looking for an ally, he was considered a good choice.
Because of this, some tributes, but predominately girls, seemed to be willing to do quite a lot to earn Cato's approval, more than their parents would be strictly proud of.
Peeta turned to go back inside, disgusted, and accidentally caught a glimpse of them.
Cato was leaned up against the wall, his broad hands cupping the girl's head, and she was on her knees, bare legs glinting in the low light.
He smiled at Peeta from where he stood, and it was the smile of a man with power.
Cato did have power. He could snap the poor girl's neck when she had finished, if he was so inclined, but he probably wouldn't. Why kill someone who was easy, who was so willing to- help him out. Might as well enjoy their company for a little longer, now that would be how the mighty Cato would see it.
The arrangement sickened Peeta, and he returned to the house.
In the kitchen, Clove was cooking with Thresh, which was hilarious if you were into that dark who's-gonna-kill-who kind of humour.
"Do you think that the meat is done?" Clove asked Peeta with a smile. Her dark hair was pulled up off her face, an apron slung across her lithe body. She looked like a picturesque girlfriend that you could have a flour fight with.
Where Peeta came from, flour was precious, and not to be wasted in a bout a flirting for the cameras.
"Well, what do you think, Baker boy?" she asked him, biting her lower lip. "Surely you must have a better idea about cooking than the rest of us."
That was a jab concealed as a compliment, Peeta knew.
"We don't cook many steaks in the bakery Clove," he answered, equally condescending. Two could play that game.
Thresh's mouth was a thin line and he didn't add to their verbal spar, but kept on dicing peppers. Slash slash and a red pepper split open like a mouth.
Clove followed Peeta's gaze.
"Yeah, I would have preferred to do it, but he wouldn't let me near the knives," she said sadly. So Thresh did have some smarts under all that silence.
Peeta was silent too as he looked at the meat. Cuts of steak bubbled in oil, still shades of red, pink, all bloody. He pulled back quickly, just as Clove slid closer.
She was possibly going to push him into the boiling oil, though Peeta outweighed her and anyway, Thresh was there; though whether he would intervene was another matter.
"Whadda think?" she asked, staring at him, eyes glinting.
Peeta trusted Katniss, who couldn't act for her life and whose emotions were clear on her features. He did not trust this girl in front of him.
Clove was an actress, a murderer, a flirt.
He took the handle of the frying pan and shook it gently. The steaks slid from side to side, the oil spilling a little.
Clove leaned just a fraction back, and Peeta was awfully tempted to dump the contents onto her pretty head and shut her up, permanently, but he did not. He put the pan back.
"Needs another minute," he said neutrally.
"I thought so," she replied. Did that mean she thought the steaks weren't done, or that she knew he wouldn't have the nerve to attack her?
Peeta was getting sick of all these double-meaning conversations, barbed looks.
You learnt a new language here; words and phrases that all meant I-won't-kill-you, Let's-team-up or what-are-you-willing-to-do?
He wasn't willing to do a lot. He didn't think that that would help him pass Cloves' little test, but he found he didn't give a damn.
Peeta went to go back outside, but caught himself just in time, and left to find Katniss instead.