Peeta takes a breath and kicks off his shoe, then rolls up his loose baker's pant leg to the knee. The metal of his prosthetic is dull in places and shiny in others.

"I don't...." he pauses. The fact that he doesn't have one is obvious, at this point, so he's trying to find out a way to finish that sentence without making it sound more stupid than it feels in his head. "I don't really know how to take care of it. The doctors, they didn't explain anything, and I...I'd like to go swimming. In the ocean."

There. That should explain it, right?