Katniss' own hair was in it's typical braid, just as long as it ever had been. It's one of the only things she's kept from that world, and if asked she'll say it's simply because it's practical.

The corners of her eyes tighten at Johanna's words, because her last memories, which apparently weren't entirely fake if she still knew her, had seen the two of them grow closer, or at least as close as Johanna let anyone get.

It didn't matter now, she tried to tell herself. Everything before Zion was a lie. She had to believe that.

"I live here. I've lived here for years," she retorts, annoyed.

She's not even going to comment on the rest. Anyone talking like that shouldn't really be accusing anyone else of being rude, but it's not worth it. She's not going to give her the satisfaction of getting a rise out of her that easily.