"I think you underestimate just how fond I was of tree rat cooked by Capitol-produced forcefield," Finnick answered wryly. He knew, of course, that finding any sort of food that was safe, edible, and in mass quantity in the games was something to be thankful for. Food was always a secondary issue -- not quite as important as other tributes, water, or sleep, so you ate what you could. But afterward, and especially on the outside, it was always a marvel what they would eat in the arena.
He sat down in the kitchen, content to let her work unless she actually asked him for help. (He figured though that this meant he was going to have make some kind of fancy seafood dinner sometime in the near future, although from what he'd heard about the water quality in their area, fishing it himself didn't seem like a sound idea.)
"How was your camping trip other than the cold and that rabbit?" Finnick asked.