It's as good a destination as any, she supposes. Probably better than going back to her room and hiding under the blankets like she's been doing, tying knots in her piece of rope until her fingers are raw and aching. She climbs to her feet with the same sort of determination that led her to agree to go with him, and if she doesn't look to the side then she can almost, almost pretend her ghosts don't exist at all. (Killian is a great deal taller than Mags ever was, and Annie might have purposefully angled herself so that he stands between her and her mentor, blocking the old woman's ghost entirely from her view.)

"I hope your brother was right, about forgetting his troubles by a fire. I used to go out on the beach when I needed to forget, but..." She shrugs, because of course there's no going to the beach when they're still on lockdown in here. Who knows if they're even near a beach, or any kind of water, or what sort of terrain surrounds this place at all?

When he offers his arm she takes it with the smallest hint of a grateful smile. There's a distinct chance that she may end up with a white-knuckled grip on his sleeve when they pass through the still-present tributes, but other than that she doesn't directly acknowledge them at all. "Is it odd that I miss the cold? I mean, that I'd rather have it than... this?"