Cassian frowns, because now he is drinkless, which is the opposite of what he wants tonight. "I still need one," he grunts. Doesn't matter that he is already quite inebriated. "No. No name."

It suits them both just fine, probably. No names shared, only food. Sometimes the cat shares his bed and Cassian pretends it isn't nice to have company.

He watches her put the drink out of reach, and he's just drunk enough to actually consider leaning over her, but instead he follows her line of sight to watch the victor with her children. Cassian has seen her before, and every time he does he wonders how the hell she could have brought herself to have any kids. He's long ago given that notion up, maybe even before he was Reaped.

The instinct to jerk his hand from Jyn's is strong, but he strangely doesn't resist. Maybe it's because it's the first time someone's touched him without hoping to take a picture or talk about the Games. His brows still furrow. "And go where?"

And why him? That's the part he's stuck on more.