She was upsetting him. And that, more than anything, brought Katniss up short. Even though he seemed to hold it together well, she knew he wasn't really-- she'd heard it from his own mouth. He woke up from nightmares and found no relief in the waking. She still didn't know how he managed to keep up the facade of cheerfulness; it would have been an impossible task for her. The only facade she thought she had ever believably mustered was stoicism, and maybe not even that.
"It helps that I'm not underground anymore," she said, doing her best to steer the conversation away from the knots-- on to the positive things. "And there are more things to do here. More space to explore."
She wasn't sure she'd go so far as to say freedom. They were beholden to Stark for giving them money and living quarters, that debt would probably be collected eventually. There were still rules, about children going to school and not carrying bows and arrows through the streets. But for the most part no one seemed terribly invested in what Katniss did with herself from day to day. At least, if anyone other than Finnick was keeping track of her movements, they were doing it subtly enough that she hadn't noticed. Which wasn't to say it wasn't happening; she knew that all too well.
If only she didn't have to sleep. She was always the most vulnerable when she did, not just from her own subconscious but also from any threat in the real world.