He doesn't press her to speak, but once she does it's hard to listen. Maglev was the one he knew longest, District 6's numbers having shrunk and grown with mostly those too old for the youth program among it. Still, Luna and Sansa both have met her, if only by this now. They could have been friends, could have... have done something, if Maglev made it out, if she helped when someday the rebellion makes its move on the Capitol. It's potential cut short, something stopped before it could properly start, unfair to them.
He sees her crying and can't look at her anymore, but she follows it up with praise and talk of prayer.
"Don't." It comes out sharper than he meant, but he can't take it back now that it's out. "Just don't, Sansa. I panicked and got separated from her as soon as we all ran into--no, as soon as we heard something that happened to intimidate me. I got gifted a hunting knife and I failed to give it to her when I already had a perfectly deadly sickle in my hands. I heard her scream, and what fucking good did I do but show up in time for her to be dead?"
His head turns, finding her again, eyes wide and hurt and burning. "The only thing I did," he grits out, "was get so furious I completely snapped. I snapped, and I lost my pan with it, and I only realized what I had done once the tribute from District 1 was dead at my feet with his gut torn open. He won't come back, either, Sansa! So good job to me! I did it! I fucking did everything a mistake like me could, and all it turned out was a couple of dead kids!"
He pushed it off before, but now he's crying, thick pink streaks rolling down from his eyes even as he glares at her. There's no sympathy in it anymore. All he has in challenge, daring her to try to turn things around and tell him he's wrong.
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He sees her crying and can't look at her anymore, but she follows it up with praise and talk of prayer.
"Don't." It comes out sharper than he meant, but he can't take it back now that it's out. "Just don't, Sansa. I panicked and got separated from her as soon as we all ran into--no, as soon as we heard something that happened to intimidate me. I got gifted a hunting knife and I failed to give it to her when I already had a perfectly deadly sickle in my hands. I heard her scream, and what fucking good did I do but show up in time for her to be dead?"
His head turns, finding her again, eyes wide and hurt and burning. "The only thing I did," he grits out, "was get so furious I completely snapped. I snapped, and I lost my pan with it, and I only realized what I had done once the tribute from District 1 was dead at my feet with his gut torn open. He won't come back, either, Sansa! So good job to me! I did it! I fucking did everything a mistake like me could, and all it turned out was a couple of dead kids!"
He pushed it off before, but now he's crying, thick pink streaks rolling down from his eyes even as he glares at her. There's no sympathy in it anymore. All he has in challenge, daring her to try to turn things around and tell him he's wrong.