Daine steps inside, unable to decide if the furnishings are a comfort or just... strange. It doesn't feel like her room - more like she's intruding on someone else's space. But the dogs are busily sniffing around, getting to know the place, and Molly offers an optimistic, I like this better than being underground.

Me, too, Sarge agrees, tail fanning the air. Outside is closer! He trots over to the window, claws clicking on the hardwood floor, and rears up to plant his forepaws on the sill and take in the view.

Shadow, sensing her unease, bends to stick his nose in her ear, magnifying his purr. It's yours now, he says with the casual possessiveness that comes easily to most felines. Or it will be once it smells a little more like you. He hops lightly off of her shoulder and gives the nearest cabinet a pointed rub with his cheek, then stalks off to explore.

"I don't think so," Daine says, loosening her grip on the keys. She'd been clutching them absently. Blinking, she adds, "Peeta's getting a room, too?" Did he already say? She feels so stupid.