So maybe Johanna was just a little impatient; speaking to Sarah on the comms had her more pumped than she'd been since landing in Lawrence those three-or-so months ago (had it really been that little? The first weeks were blurry, lost to the alternating hazes of pain and morphine, but the ones after that dragged, leaden), and she'd been itching to give the Seal some long-overdue payback. For Finn, for Peeta, for what losing them had done to her and Katniss. And until now there hadn't been any direction for that save stewing and sulking and drinking herself into a comfy vodka-and-icecream fueled oblivion for a few hours before the nightmares inevitably woke up. But now there was a plan. Not a great plan, granted - that wacky bloke in his magic blue box hadn't been able to find the Seal, and he had Science on his side. But a Plan, and one she could channel all her rage and frustration into.
And so while it wasn't quite midnight yet, she'd figured it couldn't hurt to case the joint first, pick out a few really juicy targets to try and hit the Seal where it hurt. Her axe stashed in a backpack (the handle protruding just a little, but it was the best she could do at short notice), a leather jacket slung around her shoulders, she did her best to look nonchalant rather than furtive as she headed back towards the cemetery.
Which was when she noticed the guy in the cape. His outfit wouldn't have looked out of place on a Victor, which - she'd learned - meant it was probably not 'normal' here. But there was always the chance there was an innocent explanation, that this wasn't another displaced. And even if it was, she had work to do. Important work. But still. She remembered arriving here; if she hadn't had Finn with her...
"Hey." Johanna waved. "Hey! You lost, buddy? 'Cos Mardi Gras was last week."