Finnick Odair's so very famous sea-green eyes narrow as he watches her; his posture is one of complete ease, but only a fool would mistake that for being at rest. He'd be ready for action in a moment, but the fact is, for now, concealed somewhat in his appearance, for the sake of this woman in her half-rejected Capitol clothing, and their surroundings.

Ziva is considering him as intently as he is her, her head canting curiously.

Finnick pauses before he speaks, wondering what she's thinking, if the answer he's about to give is the one she's expecting.

"They reaped from the victors in each district." The smile on his face has nothing but bitterness in it. "I was on my way back to the arena when I wound up here."