In Panem, they knew what their situation was. It sometimes changed, like when their lives were thrown into uncertainty by the announcement that the Quarter Quell would feature the victors: them or their friends. But they'd known. They were always in danger. Their relationship was a secret, on pain of punishment. Finnick was available for sale or gift, on pain of punishment. Annie was too crazy to face the media, on pain of being dragged back into mentoring and the annual season of the Games in the Capitol. None of it was what they wanted, or what they'd have chosen if they weren't victors, if Snow didn't have the power of life or death over Annie's family, over Mags, over Annie herself. But they'd known what it was.

Here, they don't know which, if any, of those proscriptions are listed. Except that Mags is dead, and there's one less person for Finnick to try to protect.

At the tap on his shoulder, he leans sideways enough that he can cast a glance back up at her. His brow knits in thought and he sits with the question a moment before he answers.

He doesn't know if he can trust them either, but they at least don't have the same connection to this place. If there is anything hidden going on, they might not have the same need to play along that people actually from here would feel.

"Think that's a good idea. Not from here, they might not be loyal to this place if things are going on."