Stella remembers the birds, from her impromptu visit to Annie last month after the earthquake. It's rare she's seen peacocks outside a zoo, and this one's just a baby, not yet old enough for the long tail feathers it's trying in vain to display.

She is not normally one for animals. Stella never had pets as a girl — her grandparents had a pair of English sheepdogs, but by the age she'd been living with them after her father's death, she'd been off at boarding school half the year. As a university student she'd been too busy with her degrees to care for a pet, and certainly after she'd started her career, all her time had been slowly consumed by police work. She'd decided against it for one of the same reasons she'd never had children: it's hardly right or fair to have a pet when you're barely home to care for it.

Still, she supposes it is... cute, in that awkward half-grown bird way. Stella's mouth twitches for a second, a shadow of a smile, and then she looks up to see the man sitting on the fountain rim and the smile falls right off, leaving her expression still and reserved. Not cold, not the way she's sometimes looked at Finnick, but carefully held back.

With their last conversation, she isn't entirely sure what to make of him anymore. Not that she doesn't still feel he's a bit of an arrogant dick, but his story about his world had left her feeling shaken and a little raw afterwards, and in light of that, perhaps he deserves her reconsideration. He's lucky, really. Stella doesn't often give second chances.

She doesn't sit next to him, stops a few feet from the fountain instead. "He'll be pretty when he's grown," she comments. "Yours or Annie's?"

For some reason she doesn't think of him as the type to keep animals, either, but he might surprise her.