There's something very disarming about Steve's calm approach to it all. It both panics her and reassures her to know that he's handling this so well. After coming back from talking with Holly, who had quickly descended into panic, it's jarring. It makes her feel both irrational and rational, everything he's saying hits the right notes and she never realised how much she needed to hear it. It's scary when you cast yourself off from the Capitol, like you're walking a tightrope with no safety net. There's no certainty that the Tributes will want her help or deem her useful enough to help in turn, but it feels silly now to ever assume she'd be totally alone.

It's hard to be afraid when you have someone like Steve, a known pillar of strength and justice and basically everything that opposes the Capitol, backing you up all the way. Yet, it's scary that she even needs that and it's scary that she could turn him down and get him in more trouble. There's a lot to be worried about, but in the wake of what she's realising just how liberating it is to tell someone. Now two people know, two more than Lonestar and Stephen. If she goes missing, someone will know what happened and maybe, just maybe, there's a glimmer of a chance that she'll be saved as well.

Her nose crinkles when he calls her kid, clearly a little thrown by someone who looks to be much younger than her using a term like that. It brings a small smile to her face and she lets out a faint laugh, a little overwhelmed for words for the moment. She can't help it, when he smiles like that she's a little bit like a moth drawing towards a light. She tilts her chin up, as if in challenge, leveling a sly look on him.

"Well, when you put it that way.." She trails off, leaning up to press a decidedly chaste kiss to the corner of Steve's mouth. It's casual, but it lingers just a little.