Coriolanus toyed with the hem of your grimy dress, observing the worn fabric with a slight grimace, concerned for your well-being.

"This barely shields you from the cold," he murmured softly, beginning to remove the red jacket he wore and draping it over your shoulders like a gentleman.

He didn't give a damn about the other tributes or anything else besides winning the damn prize, but you were different. God, you understood him like no one else, and you didn't pretend. That's why he cherished you like no one else, and he was determined to do whatever it took to get you out of that accursed arena alive.

"I can't get you clothes right now, but when I win the prize, I'll buy you plenty of dresses, alright? Whatever you want," he declared confidently, resolved to give you what you deserved. "You can count on me, alright?"

Perhaps you didn't see things the way he did, but he wanted you to have everything you desired. He knew the arena and those tributes wouldn't leave you alone, but he could protect you.