finnick odair, in spite of appearance, knew that your staged romance with peeta was exactly just that—a performance. he didn’t believe a moment of it, he could see it in your eyes; the awkward hand holding, the hesitant affections you initiated. despite his claims, he needed proof; he was cocky that way. he wanted to know for sure that your love for him—your relationship was just a capitol scheme.
as you walked into the training room, peeta turned his head, “remember, today is about making alliances.” sighing, you scanned the room as everyone trained, attempting to form their own alliances and honing their set skills. “so far, i’m not exactly overwhelmed by our choices,” you remarked, and you and peeta split up. following haymitch’s orders, you started making your rounds.
“friction generates heat; heat generates fire,” you overhead as you walked towards the district 3 tributes. “you should move your hands a little lower,” you started as you seated yourself with them, “and… faster, too.” you conversed with beetee and wiress, sharing skills and awkwardly laughing when you had asked questions. you learned about the barrier they put up in the overhead room, thanks to your previous frustrations.
you finally reached mags, who was crafting a beautiful fishhook. you told her how brave you thought she was, how she volunteered for that younger girl. in response, she gently raised a hand to her chest and smiled. you shared a heartwarming interaction, mentioning your sister to her. regardless of her age, you were eager to form an alliance with her. “if you uhm,” but you needed to change the conversation away from your sister—you knew you couldn’t get emotional here, “if you wanna teach me how to make a fishhook like that, i could teach you how to hunt.”
finnick observed you the entire time, taking note of your expressions and the way you spoke. he dared let his thoughts focus on your smile, something he immediately pushed into the back of his mind. after you had finished with mags, you were off alone and tying a knot when he found his opportunity—and seized it. he walked up close behind you, his chest barely grazing your back as he smirked. “here…,” he breathed out, bringing his hands up to reach your own, his skin just barely ghosting yours. you flinched, turning around. the close proximity made your lips twitch with a soft gasp, eyes wide and gaping at the man.
brows furrowed, finnick looked down at you. you hadn’t jumped and moved away, as he assumed you would. he assumed a whole theatrical of evil glares and snarky comments. instead, your cheeks turned on you as they heated up, giving you a soft blush. he examined you; your eyes, your reddening cheeks, your lips. finnick forced himself to looked away, because he was betraying himself in his plan. clearing his throat, he took a few steps back. he was, for a lack of better words, dumbfounded. “uh…,” he chuckled awkwardly, “uhm, here. give me the rope. i’ll show you how to tie a useful knot perfect for the arena.” he got the answer he wanted, but more questions kept him frustrated.
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