Finnick laughs softly too. The weight of the dogs, the tickle of their soft fur, the warmth and secure hold of Sky behind him... There's no way he can't feel comforted and grounded now. He hums, nods. His breathing evens, and he pets Bear Heart.

After a little bit, he says:

"Never had tents or dogs in the arena, so that's different at least." Or pillows or blankets or anything of comfort.