"I think eighteen. Maybe twenty. I don't know." Eponine shrugs. "I'm not so sure, you know? I can't even remember when my birthday is now. But it is just a number. You are as old as you feel, and Miss, I feel very, very old."

She puts her hand on Katniss', in what is supposed to be comfort. "I am sorry for your friend. It is not right for a man especially, I don't think."

She tilts her head. "Happy? Me?" And then she laughs. "I want a dress. And boots lined with rabbit fur. And pretty hair and nice teeth so men don't grimace at the sight. And a big, fat bottle of cheap wine to get drunk on when they do."