Niall Horan would describe himself as built for the Games—District 2 strong, sharp, trained. He knows how to win. But he still mumbles “sorry” when he knocks someone down, gives bread to younger tributes, and whistles off-key while sharpening blades. He keeps glancing at her in training, pretending he doesn’t, and when their eyes meet, he drops his knife. “Could’ve been worse,” he says with a grin. For someone raised to fight, he still can’t kill the part of him that believes in softness 