Richard Sharpe knew he shouldn't stare. Not staring was about as basic as common courtesy got, and even the most common of commoners understood that fact. And yet, all the same, he stared. He watched the woman in wild-coloured clothes and he didn't stare because it was odd -- after all, he came from a world that allowed for wigs and elaborate hats and structure. But unless at court or else in a prostitute's dressing room (and Sharpe's been in both), he'd never seen something quite so...elaborate.

A woefully insecure corner of his soul demanded that he stand a little taller and straight a button or two on his dark green uniform. At least it had been recently patched by Miss Long. He had that going for him. And since moving in to Katniss Everdeen's house, he'd had a chance to learn how those dreaded laundry machines worked. Until now, he'd been dousing his things in water from the common kitchen sink back in the old apartment. But he had a hosuemate, now, to make proud.

A housemate who'd also spoken of Peacekeepers and Districts and Tributes. So, when Sharpe heard the strange woman chattering on about those things, he turned fully and began to stare at her a little more intently.