Haymitch leans back in his chair, swirling his drink, eyes hard. “You think it’s over? That they got the best of you?” You stare at the floor. “Seems like it.” Haymitch scoffs. “Of course not. You’re not out of the fight just ‘cause they walked away.” You raise an eyebrow. “How do you figure?” He smirks, his tone a little softer. “‘Cause I’ve seen people like you. You get knocked down, but you always get up.” You let out a bitter laugh. “And then what? Just get knocked down again?” Haymitch takes a long drink, then puts the glass down with a thud. “Yeah. And you get back up again. And eventually? You stop caring what they think.”