“What the hell is that?” Gabriel looked down at the tiny photograph in my hand. “You need to have something that is gong to help you in the games, not distract you from surviving.” I shrugged and smirked; getting on his nerves were the most entertaining and enjoyable thing there was on the planet.

“I like it.” I murmured and held it up to my face. The picture was of when me and my Mom first moved into our house. I wanted to remember my family and home while I was trying to survive. Gabriel sighed and put his face in his hands.

“Of course you do, it’s useless and doesn’t serve a purpose in life.” He mumbled through his hands. I slightly laughed, but a small part of that remark stung. I don’t believe I’m useless, but I’m going into the hunger games, a game where you need wit and strength. If I’m useless, that means death.

“Do you want me to get something else?” I sighed. My mentor scowled up at me.

“Honestly, Anastasia. You bring home a freaking picture claiming your going to win the hunger games with it? I don’t really care what you do.” I sat down on a chair in the dining area, we are in a random room in the Capitol somewhere. It’s probably labeled ‘Thinking room for objects’ or something like that. We were supposed to be brainstorming my one object to bring to the hunger games with me. Brainstorm is an overstatement. I was getting yelled at for brainstorming, is probably the correct term.

Maybe he’s right, I didn’t think my object through very well. I just didn’t know what else to bring. I was sure they would have weapons and other stuff there, so what else was I going to bring?

“I would have preferred you bring makeup or something, not some petty photo of your house.” Gabriel said. His voice was thick, like it was trying not to crack. Was this moment or event hard for him? I mean, he was in the hunger games last year, so the answer is yes, but why this moment?

“I don’t want to bring makeup, I’m already stunning.” I throw a quick grin out there to make the conversation less awkward. His face softened a little, but there was still a hint of annoyance in it.

“I would agree with you, but I’m to old for that.” I smile. So he does think I’m pretty.

“Oh, come on your only 3 years older than me.”

“Your 14, I’m 17. Big age gap.

“Not really.”

The entrance door swings open and a face I don’t recognize pops in.

“Times up!” I’m surprsided to see how close my face is to Gabriel’s.

“Well, Gabe’s, I’m keeping my photograph, unless you want it to be a picture of you.”