She sure does know what buttons to press. And she'd pressed Katniss' button gleefully, malicious and happy to be so--and now when Katniss stiffens, and spits out her answer: well, gosh. It's pretty thrilling. In her boots, Johanna's toes curl. Thrilling.

She turns her smile on Katniss, mean and sharp and very self-satisfied. Katniss might be as rigid as one of her stupid arrows, but Johanna is as smooth and as limber as ever. She doesn't miss a beat, but she does precede her response with a short pitched laugh.

"I can talk about whoever I want. Sucks, doesn't it? Not being able to shut me up. Not having the pull to get her unplugged." Not that she sounds at all sympathetic. "It's like they say. Everybody loses their special privileges once they slide out of that pod, all naked and sticky and stupid. The Real doesn't have any space for mockingjays. Or for cute sisters. Nobody out here but us bitches."