Adelaide watches him retreat as she slips back into the driver's side door. Certain people at the Capitol don't always speak well of those outside, the implication often being that of a vicious, cutthroat and uncivilized hardscrabble place, more animal than human. At the Capitol there is a different version of that among some of the worst people, a ruthless self-serving conniving, a 'better them than me' attitude that Adelaide doesn't exactly exempt herself from, but outside is certainly bloodier, at least. Adelaide knows enough of hard living, of unscrupulous people, and of that mean, mean instinct that is survival to know it can't be pretty, and it can't be easy.
But as she watches the boy - who never did share his name, she muses - she is glad to be convinced, at least tentatively, that there are good humans on both sides of the Capitol's walls. She gives a small wave before she closes the door, and she hopes that if he needs it, he remembers to call in that favor.