She smirks at him through that little show of disbelief, and doesn't bat an eye. Shit listening skills? Check--and well-spotted, genius. Like she cares. She isn't offering a sympathetic ear. The motivations for her prompting are probably questionable at best. Secrets aren't her trade, but there's power in knowing stuff.
"That was dumb." Betrayal, that is. Blase and inclusive in her critique, Johanna raises her eyebrows. Like, we've all been there. Break eggs to get an omelet, and a hundred other little phrases that are cliche even in Panem. She's about to offer some advice on acting so sorry for something pretty nothing when he asks his question.
Him. Hook isn't looking at the corner of the lift--not right now, anyways. But he had been. And Johanna looks there now, a quick glance, like maybe she's missed some third party to this little reunion--
And she has. Or-- something. For a moment, at least, she sees him, a boy she's never seen before--and her attention cracks at the corners, and it's as complete a disappearance as if she lost sight of him in a crowd--there, and then gone, and she snaps a suspicious glare back on Hook. This again. Or, more like: you. There's only one person to blame, after all, and it isn't Johanna.
"In the corner," she guesses aloud, unimpressed. She nearly doesn't glance back again, too pissed over the thought that she'll probably see nothing, that whatever he's doing is fucking with her head--but, no. There's the kid. Very real this time. Johanna's smile lifts the corners of her mouth, but goes nowhere near her eyes. "Is he yours?"
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"That was dumb." Betrayal, that is. Blase and inclusive in her critique, Johanna raises her eyebrows. Like, we've all been there. Break eggs to get an omelet, and a hundred other little phrases that are cliche even in Panem. She's about to offer some advice on acting so sorry for something pretty nothing when he asks his question.
Him. Hook isn't looking at the corner of the lift--not right now, anyways. But he had been. And Johanna looks there now, a quick glance, like maybe she's missed some third party to this little reunion--
And she has. Or-- something. For a moment, at least, she sees him, a boy she's never seen before--and her attention cracks at the corners, and it's as complete a disappearance as if she lost sight of him in a crowd--there, and then gone, and she snaps a suspicious glare back on Hook. This again. Or, more like: you. There's only one person to blame, after all, and it isn't Johanna.
"In the corner," she guesses aloud, unimpressed. She nearly doesn't glance back again, too pissed over the thought that she'll probably see nothing, that whatever he's doing is fucking with her head--but, no. There's the kid. Very real this time. Johanna's smile lifts the corners of her mouth, but goes nowhere near her eyes. "Is he yours?"