[Johanna doesn’t know what possessed her to visit District 12. There’s nothing there for her, nothing there for anyone, really.
She doesn’t need anyone or anything, and hasn't allowed herself otherwise.
But…
There is a sort of camaraderie, for lack of a better word, among the surviving Victors on the rebellion’s side. No one could possibly hope to understand what they’ve been through, and the very few who try only make her want to violently hurt them. She has no use for shrinks or other well-meaning fools. There is no place for pity in what is left of a Victor’s life.
It’s why she bothers, really. It’s why she’s here in District 12, watching Katniss and Peeta fall apart even as the entirety of Panem expends all efforts in rebuilding. Johanna doesn’t have it in her to dredge up any sort of feeling like caring anymore, but she is here, just like she makes an effort to talk to Annie on the phone and to occasionally visit.
So it ticks her off to see the sorry state of the Mockingjay and her Lover Boy. It doesn’t surprise her, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying.
She doesn't move from where she is, eyeing the trowel with disinterest as she idly picks at her fingernails, though nothing escapes her sharp gaze.]
Well, for starters, stop moping. I’m really gonna hurl you know, and I’m not gonna be picky about aiming.
[Which means those primroses will be the first to go.]
sob hideous
She doesn’t need anyone or anything, and hasn't allowed herself otherwise.
But…
There is a sort of camaraderie, for lack of a better word, among the surviving Victors on the rebellion’s side. No one could possibly hope to understand what they’ve been through, and the very few who try only make her want to violently hurt them. She has no use for shrinks or other well-meaning fools. There is no place for pity in what is left of a Victor’s life.
It’s why she bothers, really. It’s why she’s here in District 12, watching Katniss and Peeta fall apart even as the entirety of Panem expends all efforts in rebuilding. Johanna doesn’t have it in her to dredge up any sort of feeling like caring anymore, but she is here, just like she makes an effort to talk to Annie on the phone and to occasionally visit.
So it ticks her off to see the sorry state of the Mockingjay and her Lover Boy. It doesn’t surprise her, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying.
She doesn't move from where she is, eyeing the trowel with disinterest as she idly picks at her fingernails, though nothing escapes her sharp gaze.]
Well, for starters, stop moping. I’m really gonna hurl you know, and I’m not gonna be picky about aiming.
[Which means those primroses will be the first to go.]