There is, always has been, a certain ... camaraderie between the victors. Because they are forced to interact every year at the Games, to work together as mentors, to oppose each other as mentors, to spectate, to attend events, to be just as much a part of the whole circus as the tributes are.

If Ziva David is truly a victor from another ... another version of Panem, a concept he's still not sure he's got the hold of, though it sounds simple enough, then she's a part of that fellowship.

Not that it would last long in the Quarter Quell, for anyone except the tributes involved in the conspiracy to free Katniss.

Ziva goes to another of the things concerning Finnick: surveillance. A fear the victors all know, for they are all the toys of the Capitol and its swarm of media. Finnick studies her, a faint crease forming on his smooth brow, then he nods.

"Easier for the Gamemakers to kill me in the arena than to try a stunt like this," he says, darkly. He's under no illusions what this Quarter Quell is designed to do, so very neatly, just when Katniss Everdeen's name and symbol were becoming a rallying point for revolts around Panem.

He takes in a deep breath, letting a slow smile slip across his face, masking some of his unease, though for his own sake now, rather than for the cameras Ziva says are not here.

"All right, Ziva David of District Six, what do you know about this place?"