Shippers, start your engines. The viewers at home were likely enjoying the sight of a shirtless Lyle with Brainy's legs over his shoulders but it really was a matter of practicality.

Brainy certainly didn't enjoy the sight, not when he had an throbbing head ache that made it difficult to enjoy anything.

"Brilliant survival tactic, Norg, let's secure something everyone will want to brutally murder us to get their hands on."

He covered his eyes with his hands, trying to stop himself from getting irritable. It wasn't easy at the moment but over the years he'd at least tried to temper it around his friends.

"You seem to be suffering under the illusion that there's a way to survive these encounters - or even fulfill our basic needs throughout them. There's not. Even when we do, the clock will be ticking until there's less food and water and safe shelter and they'll actively destroy our sources of it to force us to fight. Sometimes the very nature of the arena will kill us; when I was looking at old footage of previous arenas I saw one where our fellow Tributes all slowly succumbed to radiation poisoning. Are we to invest our time procuring proper radiation shielding sources, too?"