Finnick Odair was a player. The Capitol had made him that way.
Finnick Odair was beautiful. He was born that way.
Finnick Odair was a fighter. The Capitol had made him that way.
Finnick Odair was anything, everything, but weak.
He was a lover, fighter, comforter. He was strong, bright, funny, smart, fast and clever, but no, never weak.
It was 2:39 in the morning when she returned. Tears stained her flawless face, and more continued running down. He got up from the chair he had been sitting on, and walked toward her. Embracing her in a gentle hug; she didn't even flinch.
He held her while she cried. And he wept for her, them, and himself.
He was compassionate, he went through the same thing, but no, Finnick Odair was not weak.
He got his first letter less then eight months after his victory. Written in cursive sea-blue letters, they mocked him.
She was rough, hard, and forceful. He was a mere 14 years old, she was 27.
Mags knew. She had warned him while he was on his victory tour. Finnick Odair was not weak, he accepted the fate of being the Capitols newest whore in order to save his family.
When he got home Mags was awake waiting for him, it was 2:39 in the morning. He slowly walked to the couch where Mags held out a bowl of sugar cubes in silence to him. They ate and she cried for him.
The next day Finnick got up and continued on with his life.
It was true, Finnick Odair may be a lot of things, but he was not weak.