Half the time, he thinks he's forgotten what it is to be alien. The other half, he feels nothing but, a foreigner in a land he doesn't understand, with just enough similarities to throw him off. For all he wanted his people safe, for all he wanted Capitol to come on down, for all he wanted motherfucking war... he'd never thought of an end to the games.

There was something inherently natural about the games. Excluding the returning to life and doing it as when they were all of age or well over, rather than just waking up post-pupation, it really wasn't so much an unknown. Rescue is though. He'd never considered rescue in his trials either. He thinks in some ways the trials negated ever wanting for it. If they'd known not what a rescue was just as waking up to the worst, how could they ever need it when they were grown?

But here they are, saving a bunch of children. He ain't fault his matesprit for the idea. He thinks it good, really. He just ain't so good as she, he supposes.

He lands in the arena and is more faltering for his lack of knowing in what all to do. He ain't sure how much he can help, he only knows it's more than anything he could do with a communicator, what with his lacking preach and all. A few on that line get asking how he's doing, but he can no more answer than ask, so he just goes about his way. Maybe if all someone's needing a partner. If not, he's got a sharp eye and night vision.