He repeats the question, more fully this time, and his voice slips for a second into a noticeable District 4 accent. "I did."
Surely she did, too, or she'd noticed him vanish. He wound up here, expecting to fight, and instead he'd been treated for the wounds the arena's clock of nightmares and Enobaria had left him with, given food and drink and new clothing and treated like a guest.
(Not that he trusts any of it. It reminds him a little too much of the pampering of the scared district kids before they're thrown to each other's mercies or lack thereof in the arena.)
There's an unease in his expression as he looks at Katniss; it's like the looks he'd given her on the first day in the arena, when she'd seemed ready to shoot him if Peeta hadn't intervened, in spite of Haymitch's bracelet. (He'd known that was a risk. It's hard to win Katniss Everdeen's trust.) But they'd grown less uneasy in their alliance since then. Not friends, not trusting, but firm allies. Firm enough that he'd hoped he could hold the alliance together until they were rescued.
Now, though, he can see differences. Not only does she show no sign of the burns from the arena, but she has other scars. Nastier scars, showing on her neck, nasty, but old, or at least, not fresh. Not just a couple of days old.
Scars she hadn't had when he'd last seen her.
Something is very wrong here. Scars that are both new and old. Katniss' familiarity with him, the way she hugged him like almost nobody hugs him. The look in her eyes at the mention of the arena. At the sight of his face.
"You didn't, did you? You've had those scars for a while. And you've known me longer than a few days."
no subject
He repeats the question, more fully this time, and his voice slips for a second into a noticeable District 4 accent. "I did."
Surely she did, too, or she'd noticed him vanish. He wound up here, expecting to fight, and instead he'd been treated for the wounds the arena's clock of nightmares and Enobaria had left him with, given food and drink and new clothing and treated like a guest.
(Not that he trusts any of it. It reminds him a little too much of the pampering of the scared district kids before they're thrown to each other's mercies or lack thereof in the arena.)
There's an unease in his expression as he looks at Katniss; it's like the looks he'd given her on the first day in the arena, when she'd seemed ready to shoot him if Peeta hadn't intervened, in spite of Haymitch's bracelet. (He'd known that was a risk. It's hard to win Katniss Everdeen's trust.) But they'd grown less uneasy in their alliance since then. Not friends, not trusting, but firm allies. Firm enough that he'd hoped he could hold the alliance together until they were rescued.
Now, though, he can see differences. Not only does she show no sign of the burns from the arena, but she has other scars. Nastier scars, showing on her neck, nasty, but old, or at least, not fresh. Not just a couple of days old.
Scars she hadn't had when he'd last seen her.
Something is very wrong here. Scars that are both new and old. Katniss' familiarity with him, the way she hugged him like almost nobody hugs him. The look in her eyes at the mention of the arena. At the sight of his face.
"You didn't, did you? You've had those scars for a while. And you've known me longer than a few days."