Nill might be human, but it's hard not to think of her as birdlike sometimes. Small, thin, delicate, with her light touch--it is not all of her, and he knows it, but those qualities stand out in times like these. His arms loop loosely at her middle to complete the hug, and her slight frame does not diminish that she's there for him - and him, in return, for her sake.

Part of him wonders if he ought to say more, but his mind is as tired as his body, and not all is safe to say. We'll do better. We'll find another way. Fuck him but fuck the Capitol too.

Some irrational part wants to add an apology for not being good enough, but is counterbalanced by the thought that if not for being caught then he'd never know he'd been brainwashed. And what then? What if it went on, and kept going, until the Initiate had his own bloody throne to rule on here? It's not victory to trade one regime for another.

In the end he settles for saying, "I'm sorry I made you worry," soft and quiet beside her ear.