Our people. R has to think about it, unconsciously nibbling the inside of his cheek. Howard seems to have an impressive network of people, his hands stretching across this invisible web of names and faces that R can't even track. It's a little like a spider, he thinks, and then realizes that's not the nicest thing you could say about a guy. "Uhh....I didn't see Wyatt or Maximus if that's what you're asking. I did see Eponine?"

Wait, didn't they break it off? R suddenly realizes that when Howard says "our people", he might not mean his ex-girlfriend anymore. Little bit awkward.

Relieved to have a plan of action, R gets up. He unfolds legs that feel longer, more limber, and practically bounces to his feet without looking around for anyone lurking in the shadows beyond the display. He'd never had to when he was Dead. Between the snowglobe, the crowbar and what he thinks might be water from the sound of sloshing, his hands are full. So far he's breaking several Arena survival rules without even realizing it.

Now that Howard's here, R feels...decent. This time he doesn't need Howard to hold his hand while he pukes his guts up or figures out peeing again. He holds his head higher as he steps out into the open, his bare feet cold against the marble tile. To his credit, he doesn't slap them down like he had earlier - that said, he's still downright noisy compared to Howard as he walks with the too-long strides of someone still getting their Living legs under them again.

"What're we looking for?" R keeps his voice to a low whisper as they reach the gift shop. The signs are still a mystery, the letters swirls and lines. Stuffed animals, blankets of Karis Needleteeth; he thinks he spots a calender with Tribute glamor shots and wonders if this is before or after Howard came to the Capitol. The kid doesn't seem like he'd be the type to photograph well.