Good. [ He'll speak it for them both, the distaste for the Piltovan elite and their need to control the undercity, benefit from its goods and services, without taking the time to care about the people living there. If Viktor thinks about it too much, he'll get riled up rather than wind down to relax and look at the sky. ]

Oh, but first, you really do need some new clothes. [ Setting down all of the blankets he'd just gathered up, Viktor goes to a corner that's been unofficially designated as his, the spot where he keeps his bag with its notebook and pencils, vials of tears and thin brushes. There's also a few lumps of fabric, and he grabs two before returning to Jayce. ]

I found these and thought they would fit you. [ On top, a faded green sweater clearly knitted by a machine from how neatly the rows align, and beneath it, a pair of caramel-colored pants made of some kind of canvas or corduroy. ] They'll be warmer than what you have on now. And less bloody.