An hour passed, then two, still no train. The sun beat down on him and the white rose, so majestic that morning, began to whither. He wondered if the whole idea was ill-conceived, greeting you this way. No other mentors had come to greet their tributes.

Any other girl, a typical girl, would be impressed. But there was something almost intimidating about a girl who could pull off putting a snake in the mayor's daughter's shirt.

And here he was in his uniform, clutching the rose like a lovestruck schoolboy, hoping she would -- what? Like him? Not kill him on the spot?

"Welcome to the Capitol." He heard the trains whistle and crossed over to you coming out the compartment after the other tributes, extending the rose.