She doesn't know how beautiful she is.
Even when she looks utterly dejected and sad, she still manages to radiate some kind of beauty that only she could have.
"He's an idiot," he assures her. The name she gives is unclear to him, he could honestly care less.
"You really think so?"
"I know so."
She lays there, leaning into him, with his arm wrapped around him.
The sun is setting, setting a picturesque painting of two lovers, without a care in the world.
And in this painting, the Games, heartbreak and the Capitol have all been left behind them.
You know the drill :)