[Guy doesn't notice at first. His head is just barely peeping up now that it seems the fight is over. His lips are quietly moving. Down at the pool hall, he's gone so far having a construct of a woman dressed a bit like a cowboy gently urge people down a side street that leads away from the fight, using her body to block them from any potential attacks.]
[Finally, they're safe, escaping the area altogether and Guy quickly casts his gaze over the left over carnage. He'd been dividing his attention back and forth. He'd seen parts of the violence.]
[...And also the fact the goons of the killer didn't care at all about potentially killing bystanders. He'd seen Jason and his men use brutal efficiency. No gloating, no dragging it out. Just ending it.]
[His brows furrow slightly at the waste of life, but the set of his jaw makes it clear that whatever feelings he has, he's perhaps still sure about it.]
[The bloodshed hasn't thrown or horrified him. Unlike some Tributes, he'd gone into the arenas used to a little blood and gore. He lived in a time where he had to butcher and field dress animals as an natural part of life. He'd had to prepare hides for use. He'd even figured out how to brain tan skins. The farm also had animals to sometimes butcher.]
[And after the arenas, he'd grown used to the deaths of people too. He'd even seen his own deaths, on the endlessly repeating arena footage that showed on so many screens around the Capitol in recaps. He'd seen himself die several times over.]
[But being used to it doesn't mean he's taking gratification from it either. There is no gloating expression, no sadistic pleasure. Just a thoughtfulness and solemnity.]
[He spots Jason looking up at him and gives him a little nod of acknowledgement to show he sees him.]
[Then he points to himself and points downward at the roof, raising his eyebrows. Miming a question of "do you want me to stay here for a bit." Jason had said he wanted to talk.]
no subject
[Finally, they're safe, escaping the area altogether and Guy quickly casts his gaze over the left over carnage. He'd been dividing his attention back and forth. He'd seen parts of the violence.]
[...And also the fact the goons of the killer didn't care at all about potentially killing bystanders. He'd seen Jason and his men use brutal efficiency. No gloating, no dragging it out. Just ending it.]
[His brows furrow slightly at the waste of life, but the set of his jaw makes it clear that whatever feelings he has, he's perhaps still sure about it.]
[The bloodshed hasn't thrown or horrified him. Unlike some Tributes, he'd gone into the arenas used to a little blood and gore. He lived in a time where he had to butcher and field dress animals as an natural part of life. He'd had to prepare hides for use. He'd even figured out how to brain tan skins. The farm also had animals to sometimes butcher.]
[And after the arenas, he'd grown used to the deaths of people too. He'd even seen his own deaths, on the endlessly repeating arena footage that showed on so many screens around the Capitol in recaps. He'd seen himself die several times over.]
[But being used to it doesn't mean he's taking gratification from it either. There is no gloating expression, no sadistic pleasure. Just a thoughtfulness and solemnity.]
[He spots Jason looking up at him and gives him a little nod of acknowledgement to show he sees him.]
[Then he points to himself and points downward at the roof, raising his eyebrows. Miming a question of "do you want me to stay here for a bit." Jason had said he wanted to talk.]