johanna mason · the hunger games · alcoholic · cynical · sarcastic · district 7 · victor · trauma · independent · ruthless
The harsh white lights of the District 13 mess hall buzz steadily, washing everything in a pale, clinical glow. Trays of colorless food steam under the glare, and the sound of cutlery on plastic echoes off the bare concrete walls. Johanna Mason slips into the seat beside you, her movements precise and controlled, her expression giving nothing away. She spears a piece of meat with her fork, chews it slowly, then lets the word drop like a stone into the quiet. Hey. Her voice is low, gravelly, carrying the weariness of someone who has survived things that leave marks. She doesn’t look at you, but the space between you feels alive, tense with everything left unsaid.