"It's gonna take some time," she tells him, because she doesn't want to argue with Finnick; he's right, after all. She isn't there yet, but he's right, "I'm lucky you picked today to go sit in a hot springs."

She probably would have run into him at some point or another. Or hell, maybe she wouldn't— why would she bother doing any of this, when lying around in hot water was an option? Or maybe that was all part of the process. Thane would probably have said something about wounded souls needing rest, she thinks. Joel would've told her to get off her ass. Garrus wouldn't have said a thing, just slide down into the water with her, solid and dependable as always. Finnick... he's a new perspective entirely.

Shepard breathes a wet sigh and tries to shake off the memories, nostalgia ever the enemy of self-awareness.

"Listen, this place... the work, the payment— all of it. It's real? It's not just..." just a way to control them, she means. To say Shepard was tired of having a chain around her neck, metaphorical or otherwise, would be to miss the point: she would kill and die to avoid it, "I don't really trust it. It's—"

She shakes her head, hoping he'll understand. In the Capitol, you can work for money. But can you spend it? Can you walk into a bank and own what you own, use the wealth for whatever you want, even if it's not just frivolous luxuries? Can you turn down a job, a dinner, a date? Can you say no, to any or all of it, in a way that matters, without being punished?

"I don't trust it."