~Katniss POV~

Sitting in the waiting room I watched as people came and went giving me their condolences. First were of course my mother and my sobbing sister. Surprisingly the next to come was Mr. Mellark – the only other merchant other than Peeta, Rye and the Undersees who holds no grudge against the seam-folks. His promise to keep my family from going hungry, once again helped reassure me that even in my absence there will be people to look after them. He left me a bag of costly cookies before he left though. Of course, not to be outdone, the next contender had to e Gale and he has to give the promise of feeding my family; and of course I had to suppress my urge to scoff. Even without his some unknown ulterior motive working behind, not even in his good faith would he have managed to feed my family when he can barely supply his own. He was shoved off by the peacekeepers once his allotted time was over and whatever he tried saying to me at the end was cut off when the doors were closed. I waved it off realizing I wasn't curious and I had more pressing matters now – like how to walk out from the arena alive.

Finally a peacekeeper came to escort me out of the Justice building and to the platform that was connected with its backyard. After a small ride of about half a mile on the capitol supplied car, I and my peacekeeper-escorts reached the entrance of the platform. Peeta, with his face bearing an impressive expression-less mask, was already there standing at the entrance with our district escort Effie Trinket, who was looking very ecstatic. Well I can guess what is causing this reaction from her. Afterall me and Peeta will go down the history as the first ever Tributes from our district to volunteer for the games. And volunteering is a mark of heroism for the capital that is common in the Career districts. So with her being the escort of Panem's most pathetic district in the games, two volunteers from a single district truly made her day. The photographers swarmed in on me like an insect the moment I was visible to them. I followed Peeta's lead here though – completely ignore them.

As soon as she approached us, Effie and the peace-keepers led us to the train that was suppose to carry us to the capitol. The doors slammed shut as soon as we entered the compartment and the train came in motion instantly. The compartment we were staying in looked decorated impressively – even more so than the Justice Building. Effie wasted no time at all in showing her star-Tributes of her career their compartments and we were informed that Haymitch has already made it to his side of the compartment - an impressive feat considering how visibly drunk he was throughout the Reaping.

Nothing more eventful happened for the day other than my thoughts and feelings going haywire. The mystery that was Peeta Mellark still intrigued me, but I suppressed that part of my brain for now. Soon it was time for supper and other than the fact that Effie complemented our mannerisms while insulting the previous year's seam-Tributes and that she ate her food with her hands from then on to get back on Effie, nothing major happened.

We finally came to the display of today's events and for the first time in the day I can see a hint of emotion crack through Peeta's expressionless mask since he was reaped. The very same mask that he wears when he made strategies in competitions – analytical. It was as if he was trying to figure out who can be a more of a potential threat. I don't know what surprises my fellow Tribute had up his sleeve but I knew very well that he had one weapon which can be deadly and rare at the same time – intellect. And Peeta was the seat and a powerhouse of intelligence.

I soon learnt that years of lifting sack full of flour truly did a number on him when at night he simply lifted an unconscious Haymitch from his own puke through his neck-collar and pants and walked off to Haymitch's room effortlessly throwing a goodnight greeting at me. He was out of sight before I could even return the greeting, but then I remembered that he was a fellow Tribute not a friend at this point of time, and he would be a possible threat to me once we enter the arena.

In the morning Effie came to call me for breakfast and I was surprised to find a somewhat sober Haymitch join us at the near ending of the breakfast. Stumbling on his chair, he flopped down on a seat at my left on the round table. Effie hadn't joined them at breakfast, citing she had some business to attend to.

"So you two are this year's contenders for dying?" drawled Haymitch in a bored and uncaring tone that made my blood boil in anger but even before I could reply Peeta drawled in an equally bored and slight sarcastic tone.

"Well that's coming high from a person whose 75% body weight is constituted of alcohol. I consider such a state of living… well living death to be precise," said Peeta while focusing on a capitol newspaper he got from Effie earlier.

The sarcastic and bored reply seemed to startle Haymitch as it was unexpected and it even took me sometime to gather my bearings.

"You reckon you are off to your death kid?" asked Haymitch trying to get a rise, and I knew instantly that it was futile. Peeta and Rye were famous throughout the district to keep their emotions under control. And they were so good at it, that they could both fake and hide their real emotions at the same time.

"I don't think my brother would have taken it kindly if the capitol reaped children for throwing them a banquet or a party and I volunteered for him," said Peeta dryly still leafing through the newspaper. The comment brought out a laugh from my part, even in the rather tense atmosphere.

Haymitch was looking more and more irritated with every comments, but what he did next was a bit shocking to me, but Peeta's reaction was even more shocking to the both of us. Without any signs or warning Haymitch threw a vicious punch at Peeta while the boy raised his hand at an inhuman speed and blocked the incoming punch with only two fingers of his left hand while still solving a crossword in the newspaper with his right hand. Haymitch withdrew his hand as soon as he composed himself and gave a low whistle.

The moment I gathered my bearings though, I don't know what came into me but I couldn't control my anger at our mentor for even daring to issue that punch that could have left some broken bones on Peeta's face even before the Games started. The next instant I picked a knife and stabbed it on the table-surface between Haymitch's pointing and index finger and snarled, "Enough with the stunts you drunk. Now you will ensure that we get the best chance at our survival or otherwise you will walk out this train with a few fingers missing."

While Haymitch eyed the knife warily I noticed with the corner of my eye that even this stunt didn't bring any reactions from Peeta. Though from his newspaper he nodded his head and said, "Whatever she said."

Haymitch smiled after awhile, then he chuckled and finally, he broke down laughing hysterically, and I sighed thinking that the drunk had unfortunately lost his marbles. However his next words were a bit shocking to me (can't say the same about the emotion-free demigod that was my co-Tribute).

"So this time around they finally gave me two fighters. But why did you say 'we' dear? You know for a fact that only one can walk out of the arena alive right?" asked Haymitch surprisingly soberly.

Peeta decided this time to look up from his newspaper as well. He said, "How about you ensure about our survival while we decide who walks of out the arena alive?" and then returned to his newspaper.

Haymitch eyed the boy with a somewhat unveiled interest and then said finally, "Very well then. How about we make a deal? I strategize your best chances at survival and try staying as much sober as possible while you both give me your best. Let me take the first incentive in this deal. And that starts from your arrival at the capitol. Try as much smiling as possible as soon as you step on the capitol's platform and listen and obey your stylist's words from the scratch."

I grunted my approval very unlady likely, though that visibly amused our mentor. But it was Peeta's uninterested curt nod, giving out both the implied meanings of agreement and dismissal that disgruntled Haymitch quite so much that in the end he huffed and left the room, all the while muttering about suicidal smart ass and stuck-up brats.

~Katniss POV~