He catches her attention the minute he moves in her direction. She's had years of honing her skills hunting. Years that had been amplified by days trapped in the Hunger Games, those days when the slightest snap of a twig would send her scrambling for a weapon.

It's not quite the same instinct now. Those have dulled a little since the end of the war, for that brief period that seemed to last forever. That period when dying had become far more important than surviving. She's not exactly that girl anymore. She's come some way from that. There's a reason to live again, even if she forgets it some days. Still, it's enough to remember how to pay attention again.

She watches him as he takes a seat at a nearby table with hooded, alert eyes. Her grip tightens a little on her bow, but she doesn't pull an arrow from her quiver yet. He doesn't have any noticeable weapons, but she knows how little that actually counts. She continues to eye him warily and when he starts to talk, she raises an eyebrow in doubt.

Why would anyone want to talk to her?

Still, she answers his statement with a nod. It's obvious, isn't it?