Cassie probably would like cheesecake: her sweet tooth was unrivaled by even the most indulgent of Capitolites even before she'd taken up permanent residence here. And it was really no wonder, given that her mother had scarfed down cookies and candy like they were going extinct during her pregnancy. She'd never had a chance.
Still, leaving it for her wasn't an option. Her special, last-minute (and, on Scott's part, unwanted) trip to the Opening hadn't come without a price. Scott had gotten to see her twice in one month, so their next visit had been cancelled to even things out. Capitol food preservation was good, but it wasn't completely edible after four months good. He hummed in agreement, though, because it seemed petulant to point that out to Bucky when he'd just been trying to make sure it didn't go to waste.
He hid any further lack of response behind a few bites of his crepe, and allowed himself to be distracted by the idea that this concoction Bucky was looking for might have had dire side effects. That probably wasn't the case, but who could be sure, really, in a society that sent a bunch of teenagers to their deaths on a yearly basis. Scott opened his mouth to counsel him on being smart - as a way of expressing his own concern for Bucky, and not a complete lack of faith in his ability to take care of himself - and promptly shut it again when the conversation swung back his way.
"Yeah, fine." Fine as anyone could be, he supposed, after learning their worst nightmare had started to become reality. "Just tired." Of everything. But they were all tired, weren't they? It was why Bucky was looking to recreate the euphoria from the party. And why didn't matter, really, if taking it twice put a hole in your gut. He was tired.
"And Maggie moved Paxton into the house," he added, because it was petty, and petty was so much less depressing than admitting he'd reached the end of his rope.