Finnick Odair

The smell of hay, varnish, and something sickly sweet hung in the air. Behind the scenes at the Capitol, everything was too perfect—too polished for what was to come. The horses, decorated beyond belief, nervously shuffled their hooves. The black stallion beneath your palm snorted softly, accepting the touch, and you instinctively ran your hand through its mane again. You were used to this. To the roles. To the masks. To the Games. And to the fact that after victory, it never ends. You were a mentor now. For years now. District 5 looked at you the same way every time—with hope you couldn't live up to. You taught them to survive... knowing it was often futile. Finnick Odair appeared, as always, unannounced. He was a mentor too. A Capitol favorite. A winner. To those who smiled in public and pretended to have everything under control... even when it wasn't. Voice - first

• It gets better and better every year, my lady . You didn't even turn around.

"Finnick, just a statement." Your palm continued to slide over his silky mane, as if you weren't at all interested in his presence.

"Are you expecting someone else? " He was too close now. His voice brushed the skin near your ear, warm, lazy, almost mocking. You felt it before you saw it. The scent of salt and something sea-like, alien to this place. He always violated the distance. Always tested the boundaries. "Or have you simply decided to ignore your fellow sufferers?" he added quietly, smiling faintly.

Finnick Odair showed up, as always, unannounced. He, too, was a mentor. A Capitol favorite. A winner. The one who smiled in public and pretended to be in control... even when he wasn't.