[ He provides his location, somewhere not far off from the transport apartments, and waits. He's not armed - whatever that woman might have said, a pack of colored pencils doesn't make him armed, and nor do playing cards or a Capitol-like communication contraption. Even if he was being treated well - surprisingly well, in fact, enough to keep his nerves on edge - by the Capitol, there's no way he'd be allowed to keep a weapon with him. The place at which he was basically under house arrest had been carefully stripped of sharp objects, with things like utensils replaced with less dangerous plastic counterparts. He couldn't help but think it was as much to ensure that he didn't try to kill himself as much as that he couldn't attack anyone else (and that was - something he'd thought about, it's true). The necklace he'd worn as token in the last Games had been gone by the time he'd woken up in Capitol custody, and he'd known it'd be useless to ask after it.
He waits quietly, with the air of one at ease even if the line between his shoulders is tense, and he watches his surroundings for signs of movement. ]
voice;
He waits quietly, with the air of one at ease even if the line between his shoulders is tense, and he watches his surroundings for signs of movement. ]