Blithely unaware of the effect she has on him, Clara secures herself to Leo's side, perfectly happy to be led around for the remainder of the evening. They near a table covered in an array of bite-sized cuts of fruit and candy, ready to be dipped in the fountains of white and dark chocolate placed at its center. Leaning forward, Clara plucks two slender skewers for them to use, tucking one into Leo's unoccupied hand. As she does, the lock of hair he had just righted slips free again, completely beyond her notice.

"Only one tribute has a chance." She answers while running the edge of a marshmallow under each of the fountains. "Who that is, I cannot say." And it isn't for a lack of trying. In an effort to shed light on the arena's outcome, Clara had even visited the rooms of each of her tributes, but her intuition remained as muddled and silent as a night filled with fog. She wondered if it had something to do with the fact that they come from other worlds.