Psii wanted to argue that he'd die of cold without fire in here, but ice dislodging itself via heat and raining down on all of them didn't sound like a good idea either. Maybe he could make a fire at the entrance and hope no other tributes saw it.
"An enemy would have culled you whether you chopped off your leg or not," he hissed back. "You yelled loud enough for uth to come within minuteth. You'd bathically be dead on Alternia, but here, there'th a chanthe a friend could have helped. It'th not blind hope, it'th logic. Now you've jutht made thingth worthe for yourthelf, and did you even thterilize the blade?"
Psii knew something about blind hope and how it sucked globes. How could someone who had visions of doom ever have blind hope? It never got him anywhere, so he relied on his smarts instead. He had to break himself out of slavery, because no one was coming to save him. He escaped because he had a choice between dying miserably and dying doing something he cared about.
"I won't tie you up if you keep thtill and let the human work. Do either of you have more painkillerth? I want thith clown high ath a kite. And water, he needth water thinthe he lotht tho much blood."
He fumbled with his Capitol food, belatedly finding the empty plastic packaging he used as a crappy water container. He hadn't gotten the chance to skin something and make a proper waterskin. He opened it and gingerly held it to Initiate's mouth like an arachnophobe trying to pet a tarantula. A few lunar cycles ago, if someone told him he'd be feeding a clown, he'd say they were insane.
"Drink and then lie the fuck down, you're making all the blood rush to your leg thitting up." He folded his empty baskets and shoved them where a pillow should go. "At leatht the cold'th thlowing down the bleeding...." Now it was his turn to mutter to himself like a crazy person.
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"An enemy would have culled you whether you chopped off your leg or not," he hissed back. "You yelled loud enough for uth to come within minuteth. You'd bathically be dead on Alternia, but here, there'th a chanthe a friend could have helped. It'th not blind hope, it'th logic. Now you've jutht made thingth worthe for yourthelf, and did you even thterilize the blade?"
Psii knew something about blind hope and how it sucked globes. How could someone who had visions of doom ever have blind hope? It never got him anywhere, so he relied on his smarts instead. He had to break himself out of slavery, because no one was coming to save him. He escaped because he had a choice between dying miserably and dying doing something he cared about.
"I won't tie you up if you keep thtill and let the human work. Do either of you have more painkillerth? I want thith clown high ath a kite. And water, he needth water thinthe he lotht tho much blood."
He fumbled with his Capitol food, belatedly finding the empty plastic packaging he used as a crappy water container. He hadn't gotten the chance to skin something and make a proper waterskin. He opened it and gingerly held it to Initiate's mouth like an arachnophobe trying to pet a tarantula. A few lunar cycles ago, if someone told him he'd be feeding a clown, he'd say they were insane.
"Drink and then lie the fuck down, you're making all the blood rush to your leg thitting up." He folded his empty baskets and shoved them where a pillow should go. "At leatht the cold'th thlowing down the bleeding...." Now it was his turn to mutter to himself like a crazy person.