[She finds him eventually. Not at the bakery or in the common room of their house, but upstairs. It's a place she knows to look for him by now. His studio has become her favorite room in the house. There's something almost reassuring in watching him work, here or in the bakery. A reminder. A reminder that all the sacrifices were worth it. That he's still here. Still alive and still so utterly Peeta. She can sit there quietly for hours, just watching him.
It's like that when she strays upstairs, sometime later in the day. She's quiet as she slips into the studio barehanded. Bow and parcel of goods had been left downstairs. Rather than taking a seat, she leans against the wall and continues to watch. Of all the things to paint, on today of all days, maybe it's not surprising to see this. To see her. Someone so intertwined with the reapings in District Twelve. It almost brings a smile to her face. How fitting.]
[action]
It's like that when she strays upstairs, sometime later in the day. She's quiet as she slips into the studio barehanded. Bow and parcel of goods had been left downstairs. Rather than taking a seat, she leans against the wall and continues to watch. Of all the things to paint, on today of all days, maybe it's not surprising to see this. To see her. Someone so intertwined with the reapings in District Twelve. It almost brings a smile to her face. How fitting.]