[ The hug is definitely not what she'd expect from Cashmere, but complaining is the last thing on Annie's mind. She clings to Cashmere for as long as the hug lasts, desperate as much for the affection and familiarity as she is for the reassurance that she isn't entirely alone here. She's with another victor now, a better one than she ever was, and figuring this place out doesn't seem quite as daunting now that she isn't alone.

What is she wearing? A very good question, and Annie plucks awkwardly at a fold of the sheet she's managed to secure around herself with a few torn strips from the bottom and a bit of knot work. ] The very latest in Capitol couture, of course. Direct from the president's hidden prisons.

[ But they can discuss her fashion choices later, and she shrugs dismissively. ] Have you found anyone else yet? Gloss or Finnick or... [ Yeah, never mind. Those two are the only ones that matter right now, and maybe Cashmere's had better luck in finding them than Annie has. ]