Peeta glances nervously down at the man's arm, then to his face. He still isn't acting like he's actually hurt. Maybe just adrenaline, but it worries Peeta a bit. He holds his own broken arm against his stomach, and his eyes flick around at parts of the crash. He contemplates what to do. He really feels that he should help, but in his condition he'd probably be more likely to just endanger himself more. And though he's usually very strong, he doesn't think he can currently carry anyone out of the crash.

"Okay," he agrees, having a tendency to do as he's told in ambiguous situations like this.

"Thank you. I'd be dead without you," he says quickly, as though that's not an extremely heavy thing to tell someone. He starts to look around for anyone giving first aid, or for anything he could help with that doesn't require much strength. There are backpacks strewn around that look like they have supplies in them, so he opens one up. It's full of useful things, including an oxygen mask.

"Wait!" He calls to the other man, hoping to catch him before he gets back to the train.

"Take a backpack!"

Suddenly, as though uninjured, he throws the backpack easily to the man who saved him.