“Yeah.. good thing you are. —
We’d probably be dead if I tried to be consistent.”
[ Kit looked down a bit annoyed at his own response, seeming to roll back into his very unsatisfied and pissy self. He coughed, his hands falling to his side before his hand moved over the patched cut and then to the shoulder right above the cut. ]
“ — Sorry.”
[ Peeta frowned at his lover, reaching up to take his hand into his own. He felt as though he had to keep Kit afloat. It was easy to become a pessimist admist all of the death and carnage they faced in the arena. It was weighting on him, there was no denying that. Bags lingered beneath his blue eyes and his skin had an awful pallor. Despite all of that he kept a cheery disposition. He had to be strong for Kit and anchor him. ]
“Don’t be, Kit. You’ve done nothing wrong.”