Shepard's handshake is firm, professional; three shakes, feels right. But then he gives her the line about family, and something in her face shifts; her jaw firms, the line of Jane's mouth twisting, and she adjusts the grip to simply pull him in for a hug.

Sometimes you don't need to make it complicated. Sometimes it doesn't take any time. Sometimes you just know.

She steps back and... just takes a moment. Nice scenery here, Finnick. Do not look at her face, look at the scenery. What a pretty skyline. Lots of smoke that can get in your eyes.

"I'll be honest with you," She says when her pride allows for it, "I have no idea what to do with myself. Even before Panem, I was military, and they kept tributes on a pretty short leash. Just being allowed to walk around and do whatever I want is..."

Incredible. Powerful. Overwhelming.

"...I spent a long time in the Arena. You die, and then you wake up, just so you can wait for the next one. And go to those stupid parties. And then the— damn, the rebellion out of Thirteen?" Reflexively, Shepard runs a hand across her neck, where the bomb-collar had been. Short-lived as her time 'defending' the Capitol had been, it had thrown a long shadow, "I'm still figuring out where my head is in all this. Hell of a thing."