He doesn't answer immediately. He's still too uneasy to go for long without scanning the scene below him, for all most people don't bother to look above their heads and people here don't show the wariness of tributes always looking for the next source of danger. Down and to the left, across, up and to the right, then again in reverse.

No immediate sign of danger, beyond the immediacy of how strange it all is.

While he's studying them, he lifts his hand again, using peripheral vision to reach for her foot and bump a loose fist against the side of her boot.

"Not that I can see," he says with a single shake of his head. His hand drops back down to rest on his own branch. "Could be things going on that I can't read, but."

He shrugs. "There's a feeling I don't get from them. I know how it feels when someone wants to use me."