Roland grunts, not happy at all about this particular arrangement but too practical to keep resisting it. The moment Firo is done he tries to pull the boy down with him, sighing and running a hand over his jaw. Then he looks at his hand, looks at the blood on it, and sighs again.

"Panem has a word for something like this, don't they," he mutters. "A shitshow?" Those amateurs over there should be dead already. Roland has to admit now, if only to himself, that maybe he shouldn't have taken charge in the first place. Maybe he is so far gone as all that.

"If you have a different plan, I'll follow it. A little more goading and they should break cover and run at us. They're grieving. It won't take much." But it's in Firo's hands, not his. Leaving this to a boy whose first choice would have been to simply run at their enemies - but no. No point in complaining. Roland had his chance, and this is how it has to be.