"Well then" I say "make sure to save the stuff you're best at for the private performances in front of the Gamemakers. While you're here, make the most of it, try and learn something new - edible plants, tying knots. It's useful, I swear".
And with that, I flash one more reluctant glance in Peeta's direction - his eyes are just as blue as there were last time I checked, perhaps even more so because they are bright and alive and hanging on to my every word - and lead them down. I get another look at the other tributes, the ever-menacing Careers, Finnick Odair's doppelganger, the stunning girl from eleven, before the elevator doors slide shut again and I make my way upstairs to the suite. I'm surprised to find that I can watch all the tributes training on the monitor in the living room. The huge boy from Two doesn't look much like Cato, but could be his twin when it comes to brute force and handling a sword. The girl is bigger than Clove was and although she can't throw knives anywhere near as well, she hits the dummy square in the chest with a spear from 20 metres away. The girl from Four, whom I had originally disregarded as she had seemed so insignificant against her devastatingly beautiful male counterpart, is surpursingly good with the bow and arrow. The girl from eleven keeps her head down, just as Rue did, and sticks to the less agressive training stations - edible plants, knot-tying, making a shelter. It seems to be much harder for her to go unnoticed than it did for Rue - I suppose people are generally much more interested in a tall, long-legged seventeen year old with impeccable cheekbones than they ever would be in a little thing like Rue. People in the Capitol, at least.
I manage to drag my eyes away from them, the most formidable of opponents, and seek out my own tributes. There they are, Allysia at the knot-tying booth alongside the boy from Eleven, and Peeta at the camouflage station. He seems to be doing well - certainly the man in charge seems to be very enthusiastic about Peeta's work. It's hard to see properly in these tiny monitors.
The rest of the day seems to pass in a blur, as does the next, a blur of advice passed down from Haymitch to me, me to them. Haymitch is still in the Capitol's hospital, I'm alone in this again. I send them into the individual evaluations with no more encouragement than the same "Make sure they remember you" as Haymitch gave me last year. And then suddenly we're waiting, waiting together in the suite with the stylists and Dixie and both tributes, waiting for those all important numbers to flash up on the screen. All the Careers get 9s and 10s, including the impossibly beautiful boy from four. The rest of the tributes range from a 4 (to a skinny, trembling boy in District seven) to an 8 - a menacing looking girl from five, who's yellow eyes stand out against her skin like a cat's. When it reaches District 11, the boy pulls a eight - respectable, especially considering he is not as well built as Thresh was last year. The girl pulls a seven, but she'll make up for that in interview - they'll most likely be falling over themselves to sponsor her. And I'm not sure if it's just because she reminds me of Rue, but I'm pretty sure she's a lot smarter than she lets on.
And then it's time for District Twelve. The boys are first, and I tighten my fists and look over at Peeta for a split second. His jaw is tight and he looks as though he's trying to seem as though he doesn't care, but it's so obvious he does. When the large number nine flashes onto the black screen, I see him visibly relax as the stylists and Dixie congratulate him perfusely. He looks over at me and I smile, before quickly turning my eyes back to the screen in time to see Alyssia's score. To be honest, it's her I've been worrying about - Peeta was always going to be ok, with his broad shoulders and muscled arms and strength. She's small, and I'm worried they won't be impressed with her - I just can't take a low training score with everything else to worry about. The ball of tension in my stomach eases slightly when I see the solid gold "8" appear on the screen. Perfectly acceptable. If she nails the interview, we might be in with a chance of sponsors.
At breakfast the next morning, I mention the interviews for the first time. "Do you want to be coached seperately?" I ask them, and when my eyes meet Peeta's I'm suddenly, inexplicably hoping they say yes. When they both agree, something twists in my stomach, something seperate from the constant tension of the last few days. I agree to coach Allysia in the morning, Peeta in the early afternoon.
Allysia is a difficult one to choose a angle for. She looks sweet, but not child-like enough for this to have any lasting effect on the sponsors. She is very intelligent, but quiet in her opinions. There's something in her though, I'm sure of it, a streak of defiance and confidence that I've seen once or twice, and as we reach the end of the training session I remind her of this, I tell her desperately to try and channel it in her interview. She smiles faintly and leaves for lunch. i sit back down, and try to think of anything but the three hours I am about to spend alone with Peeta.