"Something like that."

There's just nothing to say. No snappy remarks, no witty one-liners. This isn't a game that can be won, not really.

Finnick looks down at her, releasing his grip enough to brush her hair out of her her face. His mouth opens like he's going to say something in response to that, but she's right. He doesn't. His lips brush across her forehead, almost an apology that he can't tell her it'll be okay.