004. He stood there, watching the games. The tall, dark man with hallow, brown eyes. The man did not sleep, and could barely think to eat. He abandoned his work at the orchards, and did whatever he could to never, ever leave the small TV that existed in one of the floral shops in the wealthier parts of District 11. He was numb, and while the others of his district were sad to see a girl so young be reaped, he was the most forlorn of them all. He heard the four note whistle, the same little tune he had taught tiny Rue at the age of five. Things were looking good for that man with kindness pulsing through his veins, and the smallest amount of hope sparked in those dim, caramel eyes. But just as quickly as the spark had ignited, it was extinguished. The net encased the girl of 12, restricting her. The man had seen that boy of District 1 set the trap, intricately planning the downfall of another tribute. And then the girl who symbolized faith and perseverance arrived, causing the man to draw in a sigh of relief. It was severed when he saw, as if in slow motion, the older boy draw back his hand and send the deadly spear hurtling through the air. Just at the same time, the girl, Katniss, sent an arrow right at the boy's neck. The man watched as the Capitol screen flickered to the entrance of the arrow into the tribute's neck, and the man felt safe. But then, the screen switched back to Rue, the spear protruding from her abdomen. The man was Rue's father, and his baby girl was dying.