Well, Cinna certainly took that in stride. He must have been quite used to the possibility of his own death, despite living in the Capitol. Finnick can understand that, especially if Cinna had been banking on a revolution for a while, or planning things for it in secret. Perhaps he always knew he was willing to sacrifice himself for that cause. Perhaps Finnick always knew that of himself, too, or maybe it's something he only came to terms with recently- he's not sure.

He follows Cinna to the refreshment table, wondering where he's going with this. He takes the small cake, and then his brow furrows briefly in confusion.

"I'm afraid I'm not sure what you mean, Cinna." Not that he's denying anything about the company he keeps, but he's not sure how it isn't bad, or what it has to do with Cinna's ancestor.