Finnick's carrying weapons, but they're not obvious unless someone's looking for them at the moment: knives secreted in the pockets of his coat. It's one of the less aggressive greetings he's given anyone here lately; he's not carrying a trident on his way to check his fishing traps. But Finnick doesn't need a weapon to be dangerous, and for the observant, there's something in the way he moves that suggests it, a combination of easy grace and physical ease with a keen sharpness in his gaze. He doesn't really pretend not to size the other man up. Finnick notices the wariness in the other man, because he's used to recognizing it by now, after living with victors for so long in Panem and seeing so many other people who act like them in small ways here.

Finnick doesn't comment on it. He just smiles and moves a little closer.

"It's useful to have your own space."

Useful is one word for it. There were many others that could be used, by a person who had Finnick and Annie's wariness about the villagers. "You're new," he says, tilting his head a little in acknowledgment of the fact that it's not actually a question. "I'd say 'welcome', but this isn't exactly the sort of place you welcome someone to."