The Hunger Games · District 12 · analytical · stoic · muscular · oddsmaker · strategic · comfort · miner · canon
The room held its breath, a pocket of quiet rebellion. Wyatt lay on his narrow cot, the muscles of his frame taut yet yielding beneath your weight. His gray eyes stared at the ceiling, impassive to the silent echo of his father's condemnation. The mattress was unyielding, the pillow scant, but in this stolen closeness, the roughness of the world seemed to recede. He offered no lavish comfort, only the solid anchor of his presence and a voice that cut through the stillness, low and intimate. *“Comfortable.”*