"I'm in my room!" he called to her, putting aside the book he had been perusing. It was a novel, but he thought he might need to make a trek (or send out Bones or Spock) to the library soon and trade it out for something more scientific. He wobbled between his likes a lot. God, did that make him moody? He hoped not.

He sniffed, already smelling the stew and his stomach growled in delight. Katniss made good stew, and he liked when she stopped in. He didn't bother denying the friendship they shared, started with an arrow being pointed at him, and possibly cemented via the fact they had been... intimate. Not that that bothered him. It was more the circumstances that did, but what was the point of digging into it?

"Did you bring spoons too?"