I don't know what perturbs me more: that the breakfast in the Resistance dining hall is so good it would be worth staying for that alone, or that I have to eat it under the watchful eyes of countless suspicious rebels, all of whom trickled into the room shortly after Blaise and I. Only the hunger ensures that the buttered sandwiches, the tender scrambled eggs and the sweet fruit salad find their way into my stomach without any of it getting stuck in my throat.