"Shhhhh," Neffa hisses, and hefts the bag into one arm to reach out and give Jay an awkward shoulder-pat that's more frantic than intended. He throws a glance over his shoulder and hauls Jay a step closer, hoping if he cries against the tree it'll keep the sound from carrying quite so much. "It's-- it was quick, at least. They'll wake up back in the Capitol tomorrow. It's fine." There there does not belong in the Arena; he bites it back and tries an encouraging grin. "I'm sure they're already preparing the consolation feast for them. They're better off than we are, if you think about it."

His mind is racing. Aunamee and R and Sigma. He can't see a pattern. Three different Districts; three different worlds; and he can't speak for the others, but Aunamee wasn't given a cuff after the execution. There's no obvious reason the Capitol should want to kill them before the Arena even properly begins. It defeats the purpose of the Arena, to his mind-- why should they...?

His jaw is beginning to hurt from holding a smile that doesn't tremble. Gods, if he doesn't shut up soon he can cry into my fist--!