"I know it needs to stop being like that," says Shell Bell.
"I looked up all the victors and you seem more approachable than the more recent Four victors and you go to the Capitol more often than the -"
"- not because I want to go there!"
"You don't even know what you're asking. And anyway, no I can't get you there, especially not without going myself."
"We don't know what we're asking," Kirovalin agrees; this much is clear to him. "But we must ask anyway. Whether you help us is up to you."
"I - yeah."
"If you go now," she says, "it could be the last time. There can stop being any Capitol to go to. Soon. In time to save the tributes, before fever season hits, before another winter goes by and freezes and starves a few thousand people. If you don't go, and if I can't get anyone else to go either, there will be time for another visit or two before Kiro can do anything."
Cerulean is not making eye contact.
"Underground, preferably at least a few feet deep. I need to go about a mile down from there before I can start spreading out to surrounding areas, and it's much faster and quieter through natural terrain than anything constructed by mortals."
"If leaving it lying in a tunnel is the best you can do, I can work with that, as long as it's touching natural dirt or stone and no one comes by and picks it up for a few hours at minimum. If you bury it somewhere and I have to thread my way around tunnels to get far enough underground without disturbing anything, that will slow me down but not intolerably. For that matter, I'll get better than nowhere if you throw it out the side of a train on the way into the city before the built-over areas start - again, as long as no one picks it up for a few hours afterward. The important parts are that it must be connected to the landscape and it should be left alone afterward for as long as possible."
"Thank you," Shell Bell echoes.
(He could offer Cerulean some blessings, but that would be... potentially un-strategic, if he's watched closely enough for a change to be noticed. There will be time enough after everything is settled.)
"Thank you," Shell Bell says again, getting up and making for the door.
"Ugh," says Cerulean.
"And sorry."
"Ugh."
She lets herself out and sighs and starts hiking home.
(Four days later, when Shell Bell has returned home, been lectured by her father, and yelled at by her boss -
- a disc of wood hits the ground a few miles outside the boundaries of the Capitol.)