[ Kit panted and tried to catch his breath as he leaned against the door — mirroring the damaged Peeta on the other side. His eyes glanced at the cold floor where his quiver and bow laid together, one on top of the other. His eyes were red now, wiping his tears he peaked into the window still fixing himself up. Maybe it was one thing — it won’t happen again, or it will and Kit could be dead. But he knew his mistake and he knew what to avoid at all costs — and that wad doubting any improvement of Peeta. A bad choice whether he was hijacked or not. ]
" Peeta… "
[ His hand brushed over the open lock button, he kicked his weaponary aside and he stood up, looking down at his feet, biting his lip and wiping his eyes. ]
[ Anger bit at the sides of his face, making the room sway and his cheeks burn hot. Peeta tried to fight off these negative feelings but found them far too dominant, resulting in him squeezing the pin in his palm. It dug into his palm, drawing blood. He had told the rebels to stop. To cease and desist their operations. When he tried to warn them he had been beaten mercilessly. All for Kit. This was all his fault. He’d pay, Peeta would make sure of that. His attention turned toward the door as it was reopened. The blond picked himself up, tossing the pin into a random corner of the room. Once it was open enough Peeta forced himself between the space, pouncing Kit with the intention of harming him once more. ]