She thinks of Glimmer, her face swelling. The brief glimpse she saw before she bolted, headed for water.
Or the tributes who stepped off the pedestal too soon.
Or the accidents...
She nods.]
I'm sorry.
[It is what it is-- words of consolation. Without any real meaning behind them. Not a complete lack of empathy, no, but the sound of someone used to violence and death. Of having to say those words often.
They aren't insincere. But they aren't passionate.]
action:
She thinks of Glimmer, her face swelling. The brief glimpse she saw before she bolted, headed for water.
Or the tributes who stepped off the pedestal too soon.
Or the accidents...
She nods.]
I'm sorry.
[It is what it is-- words of consolation. Without any real meaning behind them. Not a complete lack of empathy, no, but the sound of someone used to violence and death. Of having to say those words often.
They aren't insincere. But they aren't passionate.]