Her breathing is still ragged, still an effort that hurts every time her torso shifts with the inhale, and she lies still as he dresses the wound. The kiss brings just a little bit of a smile to the corners of her mouth, and she snorts.

"I'll thank you after the Arena," she mumbles, feeling the cold floor underneath her, her muscles slowly unwinding enough to let her focus on anything besides her damaged body, the dwindling fire of pain receding from every nerve. "You'll like that better anyway."