[ cora's waiting for the punchline, the one that never comes. ]

[ she looks at her expectantly, eyebrows raised. ] When I dance they call me macarena and the boys they say that I'm buena? [ she doesn't sing it, but she's prepared to slowly recount the dance moves, in case katniss is one of those who remembers the music, forgets the lyrics, and lives and breathes the dance moves. ]

[ without the vigour, cora throws her hands out, palms down, right then left, before flipping them over — right then left — and ends with clapping them on her shoulders. ] You don't know that song?