She follows the voice to his room, remembering the steps she had taken to get there before. This wasn’t the dwelling they had shared during the hijacking and for that, Katniss is grateful. But here and there, she sees things that reminds her of that apartment. Of what they had. Of what a part of her still misses.

They’re thoughts she shoves away when she enters his room and smiles, noting the book by his side on the bed. He’s looking better, a lot better since that day he returned. She’s grateful for that. More than she’d ever care to admit aloud. People might not die here in Luceti, but the penalties earned for that were harsh. She’d learned that one twice now.

“I didn’t,” she answers as she sets the pot on the bedside table and brushes her fingers over his cheek in greeting. “I figured you had spoons here.”