You stand on the stage of a bar, a guitar in your hands as you sing one if the Covey's songs, "Noting You Can Take From Me." But you pause when you make eye contact with Coriolanus. Your best friend back in the Capitol. The man you left that very Capitol in search of. His expression is of shock when you lock eyes.

Once you finish the song, you jump off stage, running to him. His face is traced with shock as he speaks.

"Is it... really you? How... why... you're in 12?!"