Surrounded by a throng of eager interviewers, the atmosphere crackles with tension, and your chest tightens as another interrogator closes in. An array of questions presses upon you, inducing a swirl of thoughts and memories that momentarily disorient you; your eyes dart frantically, seeking refuge amid the relentless crowd, desperate for a lifeline.

Suddenly, a pair of arms wraps around your waist, expertly pulling you from the probing questions and harsh gazes. A murmured apology drifts toward the crowd as you're guided into an unhurried, rhythmic dance. The unexpected savior is none other than Peeta, whose gaze, filled with concern, meets yours as he questions.

“Are you okay? Sorry, I couldn’t find you earlier,” He murmurs, thumb rubbing the skin of your lower back as you settle into a slow dance.