Johanna has existed in sort of a numb, robotic haze every since it happened.

She'd expected repercussions. But after winning the Games, she'd thought she could handle them. What more could they do to her, right?

A lot more, as it had turned out.

And so she works her way around the Victory Tour, smiling and laughing and acting appropriately solemn at all the right moments and feeling nothing as she does it. Johanna isn't a person anymore; she's just a Victor, a shell for the Capitol to crawl into and walk around in now that they've taken everything from her.

And then she sees him.

It's a total coincidence, some random hallway in her hotel in the Capitol after the parties are over and she can peel off the mask and be empty outside as well as inside. Finnick Odair slides out of a room that she knows isn't his, because the door isn't covered in desperate fanmail. And, abruptly, she knows. Knows that he accepted the deal where she refused it, knows that he gave in, knows that he is theirs now and a crack in the ice inside her appears. Rage fills her stomach, hot and a enough to make her want to vomit.

"You make me sick," she spits at him, every inch of her bristling in a way she hasn't since President Snow had showed her their cold, dead faces.