He didn't reply immediately, the words grinding, unspoken, in his throat. The question behind his eyes one he would not voice. He pierced his lips, frowning, shifting his weight and considering his words carefully before he stepped across the short distance between them.

"... Wyatt. I--" He sucked in a breath and held it, considering. "Had you asked me... Mere months ago, that might have been the case. But I did not long for death in that tunnel, and I did not come here to find it now. Here?" He glanced around, and behind them, before looking back at Wyatt. "Yes, it may bring my death, but it will not be permanent. And if it is, the risk is the same, or greater, as in the Capitol."

He paused, his chest suddenly incredibly tight, unsure how he was going to explain something he didn't fully understand himself.

"... I am not afraid of death. I will meet it, when it comes. But that does not mean--" He frowned. "There are things here, Wyatt. To fight for. People that I--" Pain stabbed through his chest and it was unrelated to any wound.

"... I came here for you, Wyatt. Not for death. Just for you."