She was really taken with the wine, Loki noted. This was far from unusual with Victors, particularly when they were fresh off their Tours, but Loki still found himself idly wondering about how she would look this time next year. Whether she would succumb to the temptations of liquor or morphling or one of the other hundred things Victors attached themselves to. He sincerely hoped she wouldn't, even though she certainly had more cause to do so than most Victors.
But it would be a shame to lose her from the public eye. Her story was addictive and fascinating because of its tragedy, but Loki was very experienced in the ways Capitol citizens processed tragedy. They liked to watch it happen, but they didn't understand its aftermath. Many of them rarely saw, really saw, the toll that Games took on the children who played them. Because it wasn't fun. Tragedy wasn't fun to look at head-on. Recovery was only an interesting narrative if you could make it one, and outside the arena, there wasn't much opportunity for that. So it was up to Wanda now, the kind of Victor she chose to be. Given how well she was comporting herself tonight, Loki had hope that she'd be one of the good ones.
He nodded to her sympathetically. "Believe me, I understand. It's overwhelming at first, all this..." he waved a hand, "baldfaced luxury everywhere. But you can adapt, I'm sure. If you choose to." Here, he took a sip of his own drink, something bitter and blue and potent. "People forget that about Victors, I think," and his tone was seasoned with just the barest hint of rue. "They're adaptable. They have to be."