He affects a miffed voice. "I never drool. You know that."

Let the Capitol speculate on their romance. He's endlessly bitter that this Arena is one without Sponsor gifts, when he's so certain that there are fans on the other side salivating over their relationship, projecting themselves into shoes they could never hope to fill. Tom has no interest in the groupies that clamor for his attention in the city, that imagine that if they had Molotov's body or face that they could steal his heart. He knows his affection for her runs deeper.

And it terrifies him, and it's why sleep won't be coming now. He's worried not about his foes but about his ally, the woman next to him poisoning his better judgment with her wiles.

"Have you ever been in space before?"