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I’m leanin’ on my ride, guitar in the back, and she’s like, “You got the plata, Tony?” Plata, hah! Made me laugh—straight outta Scarface, this one. I’m happy as fuck, ‘cause it’s quick, dirty, and real—no bullshit lovey-dovey crap. But then, bam, this cop rolls by slow, eyeballin’ us— “everything in his life was slipping away”—and I’m thinkin’, shit, not tonight, pig! Sapphire bolts, I peel out, heart poundin’ like a damn drum solo.

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For example, he used Finnick and other (unknown) attractive victors and sold them into prostitution to affluent Capitol citizens. Cashmere was.

I woke up late, of course. Alarm didn’t go off. Classic me. Rushed outta bed, threw on whatever. I’m talking mismatched socks, hair like a tornado hit it. I sprinted down Cashmere Rd, dodging cars like I’m in some action movie.

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