BottledHe never told them.
Everything was bottled up-bottled like the alcohol he frequently sought solace in; at first occasionally, just to sleep at night, but then to keep the nightmares during the day at bay. It was engrained in his brain, donÕt show feeling. His survival in the Quarter Quell had depended on that- instead he had played the roll of the dark horse, managing to keep his emotions in check and outsmart everyone in the end.
Basic rule of survival. No feelings. Even though the Games were over, they werenÕt. Every day was just another part of the Games. The CapitolÕs games. Every day, he had to fight for his survival and sanity. Emotions constantly in check. Alcohol helped. A lot.
So he never really had the chance to tell them.
He had watched in anticipation with the rest of Panem, as the star-crossed lovers battled it out in the arena. He felt a twinge of guilt for not giving them better advice. He probably would have felt more, but he had been sneaking nips f