She's not that young. Okay, maybe she is, being a few months shy of her eighteenth birthday. But she doesn't see herself as that young. She hasn't seen herself as a child since her father died when she was eleven. All of the responsibilities she had inherited had caused her to grow up overnight. Then came participation in the Hunger Games and in the uprising. She's much older than her years. It's just difficult to tell given all the drugs currently affecting her.

Age doesn't mean much. But she understands the need to distance. Or she will as soon as the HappiTime pills and No Fear leaves her system. Then she'll remember. She'll remember how many people she's gotten killed, especially the people that she loves. She should never allow herself to get attached to anyone else. Never. It's safer to be alone. It shouldn't be but it is.

Katniss laughs lightly, nearly giggling at his response. Though the dance he teaches her seems to put space between them, she doesn't want that space. Keeping each other at arm's length can come later. Being in his embrace feels too good. Her eyes close as she rests her head against his shoulder while they dance. This is different from the way she's danced with anyone else today. This isn't a trust she extends easily. "You're still dancing," she points out, sighing happily. "Don't stop?"