Porrim just shrugs, averting her gaze, modest but not modest enough to refute what she's saying. She grew up here, she knows that most Capitolites on principle don't worry about things like consent when it comes to Districters or Offworlders, unless it's their job to do so.

And then Sam is kissing her hand, and her head lifts, smile a little incredulous. She looks at him like he's some kind of miracle, someone who'd show her such a sweet gesture of affection and not expect a damn thing in return.

"Glad the feeling's mutual," she says lightly, taking her hand back and studying it for a moment like she's forgotten what she'd been doing. It's ridiculous, someone as experienced at herself getting all giddy over a kiss to the hand. "Now, eyes closed, you, or we're never getting your makeup done."