Berry's attempts to discuss life-saving advice didn't go very well. At first, Sylvia looked as if she was paying attention; she was quiet, sitting still and idly gnawing on a chicken bone. But then Berry noticed that Sylvia wasn't looking at her like she first thought: she was actually looking at some point just past Berry's head, and all her words were going in one ear and out the other.
She was, for all intents and purposes, entirely in her own world, not bothering to interact with the world she belonged in.
Berry called it a night early and grabbed a bottle of cherry wine. She couldn't afford to get too drunk - she still had a tribute to watch over, after all - but she knew she was in for a long couple of weeks so why not relax a little?
As Berry dozed off in a drunken dreamland, Sylvia was cocooned in her blankets, with only her head poking out. She watched with silent interest as the shadow people danced along the walls and ceiling of her room as the lights emanating from passing Districts shone through the uncovered windows.
It was pretty. She liked pretty things.