The concept of being a guest is not necessarily one that is a reassurance to Finnick. Certain people on the Capitol like to suggest that the victors are guests there. In general, Finnick's not fond of their hospitality.

"Let's hope they're more hospitable than the last people who made me their guest."

That had been the Capitol, bringing him and the others back to the Games, again, when they'd always lived under the promise that was never going to happen. The most they should have feared was their family being reaped, not they themselves again.

Finnick's eyes had followed Ziva's gestures, and he studies the room, the uniformed personnel, the people who, yes, seem to move with less of the air of fear that's almost always present in the Districts of Panem.

"And I'm here instead of in the arena," he muses.

It doesn't make sense. It should be a glad reprieve, but ... what victor has ever had one of those that turned out well?

"Is it paranoid of me to find that a little too good to be true?"

The smile he gives her has a too-hard edge to it.