"Revolted. That's one word for it." The smile she gives him indicates that she's nowhere close to such a negative emotion. 'Endeared' is likely the proper adjective. She wonders if he can usurp his reputation as the hypochondriac with that of the punster in the Capitol's eye - surely there's some children's show out there in need of a jester.

And yet it's with serene seriousness that she addresses him again. "You don't need to worry about me, Joly. If I die here, I'm set free. If I suffer, I feel like I'm paying penance for the things I did as a kid. No matter how it goes for me, I win."

Self-hatred lends itself to the most perverse forms of optimism. The human mind polishes even the ugliest emotions to shining in order to cope.