[He laughs a little at the other man's confusion, then puts his hood up and hunches his posture in a practiced way.]

If that cloak has a hood, use it. Or use that mask to hide your face.

[He takes the other man's hand, leading them into a back alleyway where they can talk privately.]

Those people were asking us for autographs, which is when you sign your name for someone, just so that they can have something that you wrote your name on. That's how much they want a piece of you; they'll settle for a word you wrote or a shape you drew on a piece of paper. And they'll treasure it. It's incredibly stupid, and sounds even worse when I explain it out loud.

[He speaks with a bitterness and cynicism that can only come from experience.]

Wait- is that--

The alleyway provides a clear, narrow passageway without any screens or ads to clutter up the skyline, and now looking up, he sees a gigantic glowing sphere in the distance, swirling with different colours, like a huge soap bubble.

Is that the arena? Where we were before?

[He recalls the quarter quell arena being a giant dome, which Katniss destroyed with her arrow.]