It isn't so much phrasing as Linden's own apprehension, the desire to say something competing with the desperation to keep their faces and fingers away from any nearby chopping blocks. For everything he'd like to say, every soft and tender sentiment that Nill stirs in him like no one else can, the spiny and brusque demeanor he's cultivated bristles up like a wall of thorns to remind him that he's a very dangerous person to care very much about at all.

You're a Victor, but you're still a Districter. You're just as temporary as any other mortal, and more disposable than you realize. Is it really worth a confession or a bold kiss to put your job and your life in jeopardy?

"I know just what you mean..."

He would have to, being the guy who has been living enslaved to the memory of a dead Tribute for over a decade since the tumultuous ending of his own Games.

"You deserve to feel alive and real all the time. If I could, I'd give you that. Even if I don't actually know how, I'd keep trying."

It feels worth it, right now.