"Yes." One note of surprise that melts the knife edge caution off her expression. Helen's emotional landscape was arid from the outside, but interest lit her up like so much dawn glow as she lifted her arm to study the swatch of skin his fingers had tinkered with. Curiosity dragged her from her habitual solemnity; she cannot help it.
Finnick retreats, but she reached out and snagged his wrist, drawing him closer again and once more thrust out her arm.