There's only so much that Sawyer can do naturally, and petting, comforting, those aren't his fortes. He does listen as well as he can while Katniss tries to get her words out, because he's used to that, to sitting there and waiting for things to happen, for words to come. He's used to hanging onto every last hint or clue in an effort to find out the truth. But he doesn't really know how to calm her tears, how to make the pain ebb away, and all he can do when she starts grabbing at her hair and tugging in a way that's gotta hurt is to grab her wrists and gently ease them away, tugging a ribbon roughly away from the quilt on the bed (it was brought here by Who magic, he supposes it'll at least last the hour, or however long it takes Katniss to get back to where she's from and get a proper tie) and wrapping it around her hair in a neat bow.

"Sounds like someone gave you a pot brownie," he says under his breath, snorting. It makes sense, with that ruckus that was out in the forest. Figures that it'd be something like that. "And for all of two seconds, you thought you were happy and that shit didn't matter, until your brain was screwed back in and it all came back. Yeah. Been there. This is why you don't get smashed at parties."

Letting go of her hair, he slumps a bit, pushes back on the bed until he's leaning against the wall.

"So. Who made you remember?"