Hello there My new and first fic for the Hunger Games, following Annie Cresta: Hope you enjoy!

Thunder. Again. Rain. Again. My net drops as I catch a glimpse of lightening hitting the rods that protrude from the large metal fences that surround the District: protecting us, once again. Everyone's inside by now, but I raise my face to the freezing droplets of water, allowing them to soak my hair and clothes; opening my mouth and tasting the sweet water, mixed with only a few pollutants. It doesn't have a tang of salt or the chemical taste of iodine that I'm used to. Hurricane season is my favourite time of year.

I can hear someone calling me now, my father probably, over the crash of the waves on the pebbles, but I ignore it. They'll only pull me in, make me take cover from the storm. The storm won't harm me. It's the world outside the storm that does that. I undo the zip of my blue jumpsuit, and climb out of it so that I'm left in my spray-on wetsuit. They're both courtesy of the Capitol of course: a gift to us, the people of Four, as we fish for their food and purify their water. The turquoise wet suit glitters unnecessarily. It's typically Capitol: showy and more than a little ridiculous, but sturdy too, perfect for someone like me.

I take the dive at a run, my bare feet slapping over the smooth pebbles on the beach and suddenly crunching into seaweed and sand before I hit the seething water. It immediately covers me, pushing me and pulling me in a million different directions as the storm breaks heavily. I sometimes find myself wishing that the water will crush me, or there'll be a typhoon, or maybe some sort of whirlpool, and I'll be taken away from Four forever, into some kind of land away from all the districts and their wars and their hurt. Somewhere like the wildlands maybe. Perhaps there's a desert island out there. I could happily live out my days on a desert island, alone, with the 'Hostile Wild' as it's called at school. It's the people and the towns that scare me.

I shake my head firmly beneath the waves. There's no point thinking like that. I have to force myself to think of what is real. My name is Annaelie Cresta. I'm seventeen years old. I live in District Four. I work as a netter. I'm lucky that I work as a netter and not as a purifier. My mother is dead. My father hates me. I have two friends in the entire world, one of whom I don't really know any more. Today is reaping…. What?... Today is reaping. Crap.

I burst out of the water. Luckily, I haven't strayed too far from the beach and I can still stand up easily. My dark hair is immediately swept round and slaps me in the face, making me gasp as sea spray and wind almost knock me off my feet. I race up the beach, not bothering to collect my jumpsuit. I grab my net quickly: to lose that would be catastrophic. I urge my muscles faster as the storm howls behind me. It has to be almost eleven now, and not attending reapings means certain death. I scale the harbour wall quickly, gripping the stones with my fingers and toes like I have done since I was very young. I earn a few odd looks and even a few whistles as I race through town in my turquoise wetsuit. I hurriedly wrap my net around me to give me some more coverage and the whistles stop. The odd looks however…

The town square is full to bursting with people, and I have to push my way through the crowd to get to the pens at the front, where the under eighteens are standing. I squeeze in next to my friend Isabeth just as Aquamarine Calamari appears on the stage with her trademark waving curls undulating out from around her face. Me and Isabeth debated for years how Aqua got her hair to stay up and sway like that. I think its some kind of mechanical wig, while Isabeth (who's cleverer about these things) reckons it's some kind of electrical currents they pass through the hair follicles. We joke that she should live in District Three because she's good with electrics and things like that. We also thought that she must have changed her name at some point and for the last year we'd been locked into a fierce debate as to whether she realised that Calamari was a type of squid meat.

'Hello,' she says, her husky voice echoing around the square. I can see the majority of the men in the crowd looking up at her with delighted faces, 'Welcome to the 70th Hunger games. May the odds be ever,' she pauses to wink one eye seductively, 'in your favour.' There's a general sigh as she finishes and sashays over to the clear domes where the names are waiting. Me and Isabeth are going to have a great time later evaluating her dress. It's huge and looks like it's made out of some kind of dark purple gel that covers her like water. It's not completely opaque so the audience is getting quite a view. Her eyelashes have been enhanced so much that they seem to weigh down her lids, giving her a permanent sleepy look in my opinion. My friend Corill assures me that they are the height of sexiness however.

'The female tribute is…' she says, then gasps dramatically. I roll my eyes at Isabeth. Aqua does this every year, even though she doesn't know any of us, let alone by name. 'Annaelie Cresta!'

My stomach drops like lead. What. What. It can't be me. It's impossible. They must have got it wrong. I didn't even sign up for one tesserae. Careers sign up for seven at a time! They've got it wrong. Everyone watches me. I can hear Isabeth start to hyperventilate beside me and I can see my father grinning out of the corner of my eye. I feel sick. I wait. Someone will volunteer. One of the Careers will volunteer. They've been waiting for so long for this moment: they train all year. But the silence stretches on long enough for Aqua to cry 'Annaelie Cresta?' from the stage. 'Where is Annaelie?' I stare at Serena, the eighteen year old career who has been training for six years to be in the Hunger Games and boasted all season long about how she will volunteer in her last reaping cycle. She looks at me somewhat apologetically, then drops her eyes to the floor.

Then it hits me. No one is coming. No one is volunteering. I, Annie Cresta, am going to the Hunger Games.

'Annaelie Cresta!' yells Aqua one more time, starting to sound irritable. I feel someone push me forward and stumble slightly over my net. I walk in a daze towards the stage and climb the steps slowly. Aqua smiles widely at me and the crowd cheers half-heartedly. 'Wow Annaelie!' she says happily, 'Looks like you've already got your outfit for opening night sorted!' She lets out a tinkling laugh and the crowd joins in, laughing with her. I don't even smile. I'm going to the Hunger Games. I catch the eye of an old woman, with her hair tied firmly into a bun at the top of my head. She's sitting in a chair and offers me a sad little smile as I stand on the stage in my net. She's old Mags from something like the 19th Hunger Games. I glance at the boy standing beside her. He's tall, strong and so heart-achingly beautiful, it almost takes my breath away. I'd never seen Finnick Odair up close before. He looks at me with those eyes, frowning slightly, as if I've confused him. I realise that they will be my mentors for the Hunger Games. They will hold my life in my hands. The thought is terrifying.

'Corill Pewtara!' cried Aqua, looking up from her paper.

Before I can help myself, I let out a small scream. Not Corill. Anyone but Corill. But there he is, strutting up to the stage slightly cockily. He glances at me but looks away quickly, waving to the crowd. Of course. I shouldn't expect him to be at all upset or unhappy at the news that he's going to the Hunger Games. He's a career, and as such this is a joyous moment for him. The fact that he may have to kill me to get to the prize hasn't factored into his mind yet. I start shaking so hard that I feel like I might fall apart. I bite down on my tongue to stop myself screaming again and I taste blood.

I turn to see Odair watching Corill with appreciation: I don't blame him. Aqua is also a lot more taken with Corill than she was with me; the crowd loves him too. He's waving, joking, flirting; it's not hard to love him, especially with his classic Four good looks: brown curly hair, blue eyes. Who wouldn't love him? While I stand on the stage: still bedraggled from my swim, shaking like a leaf. Who's going to want to sponsor me?

I manage to grasp at Corill's hand for a moment. His face contorts slightly as he looks at me and he grips harder at my hand. I feel tears choke me and my vision swims. I feel like I'm going to collapse. One of us won't survive. One of us will have to die: if not both. I open my mouth, trying to make any kind of noise. His mouth falls open too. His jaw clenches to stop his lip from trembling. Suddenly, I feel a firm arm around my waist and I'm pulled away from Corill and into the justice building.

My vision is blurred by tears as I'm pulled through the labyrinth of corridors into a place I've never been before, even in the compulsory Capitol celebrations of the Hunger Games victors. As we twist and turn deeper and deeper, the corridors get less beautiful, less richly decorated, until we're in a dingy passageway that looks like its straight out of my house. My captor wrenches open a heavy metal door and we appear in a cellar. The first thing I notice is the smell of rotten fish, which burns my nose and makes me gag a little. It's grey and dank, and so cold that I see my breath frost in front of me. I hear streams of water from over by the one source of light, a small window at the very top of the wall. The metal door clangs shut and we are plunged into almost darkness.

I'm grabbed by my arms and turned round to see who has taken me here. He shakes me hard. Finnick Odair?

'What do you think you're doing?' he hisses angrily, shaking me once more. I briefly register that most of the girls in my school would cut off their right arms to be in my position now. 'Do you want him to die?' His question shocks me. Do I want Corill to die?

'No! Of course not!' I try to say in outrage, but it comes out as more of a cracked gurgle. He squints down at me, his teal eyes conflicted and angry. They remind me of the sea, of my home. The realisation that I'll never see the sea again hits me and I let out a sob, tears overflowing. He grips my arms harder.

'What are you doing?' he asks. I don't understand why he's so confused. 'Is this your game plan? Because you very nearly had him crying up on that stage. How d'you expect him to get sponsors if he's known as 'the boy who cried at reaping'?' My stomach plummets. I hadn't thought of how my actions could affect Corill. I feel a rush of gratitude towards Finnick for getting me out of there.

'Thank you.' I say as sincerely as I can, and his eyes widen yet again.

'I don't…' he starts, shaking his head like he's got water in his ears.

'Corill is one of my best friends.' I elaborate. His face contorts slightly in pity. 'Everything up there, that was real.' He considers me carefully. I realise that he's not actually that old. He's got to be, what, nineteen? Only two years above me, and yet it seems like he's lived forever. His eyes are old, and shrewd, and experienced. What those eyes must have seen. Rumours fly like fireworks around Four about Finnick Odair and what he gets up to in the Capitol. My father always said that he was a disgrace to Four: the Capitol's whore. But then my father also thinks people should be stoned for holding hands outside marriage.

Death. Destruction. Finnick Odair must have seen plenty of both. His games were compulsory watching too of course. I remember how he viciously stabbed the career from one through the eyes with his trident and step smartly back from him. I can't reconcile the image of 'ruthless killer' with the beautiful boy standing in front of me. He smiles ruefully at my movement.

'C'mon,' he says, opening the heavy door again, then turns back: 'Don't try anything with Corill again, or I will kill you.' His face is solemn and his hands are clenched by his sides. I feel a real swoop of fear in my belly and falter backwards in terror. 'Nahh, I'm kidding,' he grins, 'seriously, you tributes get softer and softer each year.' He makes the mistake of turning and shaking his head slightly. I reach up to his neck and grab a pressure point.

'Argh-aghhh,' he says, freezing and bending down, curving his body towards my still gripping hand. He cranes round to look at me in shock.

'Some of us are tougher than you think.' I shrug, and give him a small smile. I'm caught off guard as he flicks his head round, escaping my grip and pulling me into a gentle headlock.

'Don't get too cocky now,' he breathes into my ear, a smile in his voice. A shudder runs down my neck. It isn't fear. He lets go and turns to grin at me; he reminds me of the scorpion fish that live around the reefs in the fishing hotspots. They're beautiful, but get too close and they're lethal. He whistles as he walks off up the corridor before me, hands in pockets: every inch the average nineteen-year-old. I can't help but think: this is all part of his deadly camouflage.

By the time we get back to the entrance of the Justice Building, the Mayors speech is over. Aqua is beside herself with rage as we approach, hitting out at the peacekeepers who look slightly terrified. Mags has retreated to a safe distance with Corill and is whispering in his ear rapidly. My heart sinks. Corill has obviously chosen Mags as a mentor.

'WHERE IS SHE?' Aqua screeches, 'I CAN'T HAVE LOST A TRIBUTE ALREADY! WHY DID YOU LET HER OUT OF YOUR SIGHT?' she pushes a peacekeeper back and he stumbles slightly. If any of us in Four had dared to even look at a Peacekeeper the way Aqua is now, we would be assigned twenty lashes and have our fish supply cut off for at least a week. She catches sight of me and screams. Literally, she screams.

'WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN?' she yells, barrelling towards me on her tottering heels.

'I..'

'You little... You ruin my show then disappear without notifying anyone?' she's in hitting distance now and claws forward at me with her purple talons. I wince away, bringing my hands up to cover my face, but the attack never comes. I look up to see Finnick grasping her wrists.

'Listen, I can vouch for her,' he says in a velvety voice which he certainly wasn't using in the cellar. 'Don't worry Aqua, the show was great.' He winks. My eyes widen as her face relaxes into a tranquil smile. I'm startled by the power he holds over her. Are they in love, I wonder?

'Thank you, mister Odair,' she says, back to her husky tones, 'I'm glad it…' she runs her fingers around his face and down into his collar, 'Pleased you.' I watched mesmerised as her dress appears to undulate slightly, then the gel starts to inch around Finnick's form, wrapping him too in a cocoon of purple gel. But she's naked under the dress! They must be married, I realise as he kisses her quickly and withdraws, the gel reforming itself into a dress. Corill looks shocked and impressed, while Mags looks away, faintly bored. She gives me another toothless smile, rolling her eyes at Aqua and I return it whole-heartedly.

'Goodbye time!' Aqua says cheerily, clapping her hands and fanning her flushed cheeks. 'Corill, you can go in the lobby,' she turns to me with a rather forced smile, 'Annaelie in the drawing room.'

'Call me Annie,' I say sweetly and am rewarded with a flicker of anger marring her features. I'm led into a beautiful room, with a thick, blue carpet and real silk sofas. I've never sat or stood on anything so luxurious in my life. Through the crack of the door, I catch a glimpse of Aqua pulling Finnick in for another lingering kiss. I'm confused, Finnick seems to be enjoying the kiss as much as Aqua, yet when it ends and he turns to walk away, his face slackens and I see him shudder.

Someone obscures my view as they fly through the door.

'Annie!' I only have time to look up into Isabeth's tear-stained face before I'm enveloped in a tight hug. A dense weight seems to crush any distractions that the antics of Finnick Odair may have offered, as the Hunger games bloom into my mind yet again. I clutch tightly to Isabeth for dear life, soaking her hair with my tears. Isabeth tries to hush me, stroking my hair and murmuring platitudes in my ear. I finally fall quiet, withdrawing from the hug and looking at Isabeth as levelly as possible.

'Thank you for everything,' I say carefully, 'I know I won't return from these games,' she opens her mouth to argue but I hold my hand up to stop her. 'I know it. I can't even beat Corill for goodness sake, and you've seen the careers. I just… You're my best friend in the world and I love you.' She looks stricken and I can see tears threatening to overflow in her eyes. 'As well as all that,' I smile slightly, 'I promise to find out and let you know how Aqua's hair stays up.' She laughs through her tears, sniffing slightly.

'Well, I guess if there was ever any way to die, the best way would be with Finnick Odair watching over you,' she winks wickedly and I snort. She grins. 'You mark my words Annie, you'll fall in love with him like the rest of us!' I'm about to tell her he's married, when a burly peacekeeper steps forward.

'Times up,' he grunts, 'Next person's waiting.'

Isabeth stands up and we hug once more.

'Bye Izzy,' I say softly, 'It's been a pleasure knowing you.' She chokes a little and leaves quickly. I'm relieved. I don't think I could cope with more crying.

The door closes behind her and there's silence for a few seconds. I stare at the burly peacekeeper, trying to work out if his hair's real or not. It seems pretty average, but the dark brown contrasts a little ridiculously with his ginger eyebrows. I wonder if he had just dyed his eyebrows, but then why would anyone dye their eyebrows such a ridiculous colour. He glances at me awkwardly as I gaze at his hairline, then coughs a little. I offer him a smile and he returns it confusedly, his cheeks colouring.

The silence is suddenly broken by shouting outside the door. Me and Orange-brows, both look up at the same time. We glance at each other and then Orange-brows quickly crosses the room, closing the door behind him. As soon as he's gone, I leap up, hurrying over to the door and pressing my ear to it. I jump as I hear Isabeth's voice. She shouts something like: YOU NEVER DESERVED HER! I'm confused about who she's talking about. Who didn't deserve who? I hear more people yelling from outside and then Aqua's irritated voice. Isabeth screams and I wrench open the door.

Isabeth is lying on the floor motionless, and blood is at her temple. I gasp, and Orange-brows quickly turns to me. He's restraining someone whose hands are behind his back, a man. His fist is bloody and his head bent, matted dark hair obscuring him from my view.

'What happened?' I ask, tears threatening to overflow. I run to Isabeth and turn her over. She remains very still. 'Who did this?' I snarl louder as no one answers me. Peacekeepers pull me off Isabeth and start to drag her outside, her neck lolling to one side on the carpet. Orange-brows looks at me in sympathy as she is rolled out of the main doors and left on the steps, the peace-keepers guarding the doors behind her.

'WHO DID THIS?' I scream rushing to the doors, only to be restrained by peace-keepers again. The man in Orange-brows' arms lifts his head, smiling with cracked, brown teeth. I can smell the spirits rolling off his breath. I look at my father in disgust.

'Daddy's so proud of you,' he says, his voice high and mocking. I simply stare at him for a few minutes. Then, without saying a word, I walk out of the room. Finnick tries to catch my wrists as I storm past him, but I break contact with him and barge past him into the lobby area. Corill is sitting there quietly. His next visitor must have been Isabeth, I realise, as he looks up at me in surprise. He is alone.

'Annie,' he starts, 'what are you…?' I advance on him, and crush my mouth to his. He grunts in surprise, freezing for a few seconds, then wraps his arms around me, crushing me to him as his mouth starts moving against mine with equal fervour. I expect blissful oblivion. I don't get it. The girls at school told me that your first kiss was incredible: that you forget everything around you and leave the world behind for a few minutes at least. That's what I need right now, but I don't get it. I'm still in the Justice-building. I've still just been reaped for the Hunger Games. My father has still just almost killed my best friend. Even when I'm pressed up against the wall by Corill and his hands stray to my face, my hair, my hips, my bum: I'm still right there in the moment.

'Oh for God's sake,' comes a voice from the doorway and I look over Corill's shoulder to see Finnick leaning against the doorframe, an amused expression across his face. 'Come along my little protégée,' he says rolling his eyes at me, 'unfortunately, those kinds of tactics won't serve to distract every tribute.' I glance at Corill. He looks confused and suspicious and I suddenly feel terrible. Finnick was right: I do seem to be going out of my way to hurt Corill. I'm sorry I mouth to him and he glares back.

'Annaelie!' Finnick is growing impatient. I detach myself from Corill and follow after Finnick. He leads me out the back of the Justice Building to where a large, gleaming train is waiting. I climb onto the train miserably, barely noticing when Finnick kisses the train attendant. Barely. I wonder if Aqua minds it when he kisses other people. I know I would. We walk to the bedroom section of the carriage in silence but when Finnick opens the door I can't help but gasp. He grins at my reaction.

'Get changed you,' he says, glancing down at my sparkly wetsuit, 'I want to discuss tactics before dinner.' He leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. My bedroom is one hundred times more magnificent that my one at home. I wriggle my bare toes in the thick carpet and marvel at my large bed. There's even a fish tank containing multicoloured tangs and angel fish. I spot a garish scorpion fish camouflaged on one of the plastic rocks and shudder as I remember Finnick. The bathroom is a revelation too, with shining turquoise tiles and a bath the size of our kitchen. I hop in the shower however, hoping that there will be some kind of jet setting which I can use to remove my wetsuit.

I am immediately confronted by a large screen with different options upon it. I touch JET and immediately, hot water sprays out with the force of a geyser, dissolving and washing my wetsuit down the drain. It stops after ten seconds and I stand, steaming and shocked, in the cubicle. The screen starts to beep, urging me to select shampoo and conditioner. I reach forward cautiously and select SEASIDE from the list of scents, hoping it will keep me smelling of home. I close my eyes just in time before I am splattered, head to foot in a viscous, yellow goo. I quickly rub it into my hair, then stretch out blindly to the panel. Unfortunately I select JET again in my blindness and am treated to another boiling hot stream. I smell nothing like the seaside. In fact, I smell more like some kind of meadow. I am urged to choose a soap and carefully select Salt which seems innocent enough. Crystals rain down on me instantly and close in on my body like some kind of suit. I am frozen to the spot as the crystals harden and begin to sting my skin. They feel like they are removing it, not cleaning it. I cry out as the suit doesn't melt and try to move myself. I shuffle forward slightly, then slip over, protected from the floor by my salt-suit.

I lie there for a few minutes, making pitiful noises on the floor. I wonder why the shower isn't switching on again, then realise it is probably powered by motion sensors, like a lot of things in the Capitol. It isn't going to work unless I stand up , and I can't stand up without the shower working and dissolving the salt. I groan loudly as I realise that I have to wait until someone comes and finds me. Luckily, a few seconds later someone knocks at my door.

'Annaelie!' Great. Finnick Odair. Of all people. I keep extremely quiet, hoping he will go away. Unfortunately he doesn't get the hint. 'Open the bloody door,' he shouts irritably, 'or I'm coming in anyway. I was under the impression that you wanted to get out of the games alive.' I make an odd sort of screeching noise, hoping that he will construe it as a warning not to come in.

'Have you got some kind of bird in there with you?' he asks sarcastically, 'You did a good job hiding that on the way in.' There's another short silence, then I hear the door handle click open. Oh bloody hell. I hear him looking around the bedroom, then he enters the bathroom.

'What the..?' I hear him mutter, then his head comes into view as he looks down on me. I'm aware that the translucent salt doesn't provide nearly enough protection from his confused eyes. He looks me up and down, and then begins to laugh. He laughs long and so hard that tears begin to run down his cheeks and he has to clutch the shower door for support. The part of me that isn't busy being the most embarrassed that I have ever been, admires the sound of his laughter. It's like his voice, only somewhat more beautiful. I'm afraid he's going to start hyperventilating as he carries on laughing for what feels like an hour. I try to make some kind of noise, in the hope that it will persuade him to take pity on me, but all that comes out of my mouth is a kind of grunt, that makes him gasp with mirth and laugh even harder. After what feels like hours he finally decides to help and scoops an arm underneath my rigid back, setting me straight again. I feel the warmth of his hand on my back through the salt and shiver slightly.

He presses JET on the water panel and the salt is blasted off me, leaving me soaking wet and gasping again. Finnick still hasn't controlled his hilarity and the sight of my mouth opened in a shocked O shape, makes him collapse with laughter again.

'When you're quite finished,' I say irritably, hands on my hips. He tries to straighten his face, then looks me up and down, the laughter dying in his throat and his eyebrows raising somewhat. It's only then that I realise the enormity of the situation. I'm in a shower. With Finnick Odair. And I'm absolutely naked. I gasp and grab for a towel, wrapping it firmly around my salty body. He rolls his eyes.

'Not wanting to be naked around Finnick Odair, that's a new one,' he mutters bitterly leaning past me and flicking a few buttons on the shower, causing it to power down.

'What?' I say sharply. He looks into my face, then sighs and turns away.

'You know, I think that you might be the only person who has ever managed to outwit one of the Capitol's showers.' The laughter is back in his voice and I'm glad. He frightens me when he talks bluntly, like the mask has slipped. 'Those things are specially designed to work completely to the user's needs: I think you're the first person to ever have a bad experience in one.' He snickers. I follow him into my bedroom and sit down on the bed, watching him rifle through the drawers in the dresser.

'What did you mean?' I ask abruptly. He doesn't say anything, but wrenches open the second drawer down. 'About the naked thing?' I'm not sure I want to know the answer. He freezes and I see the muscles in his neck tighten and shudder slightly.

'You know what I meant.' His voice is curt.

'You mean you have made love to other tributes?' The thought makes me feel slightly sick. He laughs hollowly.

'No. Never have I done that.' He turns around and throws some underwear in my direction. 'Put them on,' he says, 'I doubt you can pull off sexy but we can always try.' I stare down at the underwear, and blush fiercely. I've never seen anything with so many holes.

'Then why were they naked?' I press on, bunching the underwear in my fist, vowing to burn it the second he leaves.

'Because they wanted to be,' he says with the shadow of a smile. 'I don't know if you've realised, but I'm a sex god.' He pouts slightly and pulls a pose. I simply stare at him and he rolls his eyes. 'Seducing Finnick Odair is usually first on their list. You remember Loren from last year?' My eyes widen and he nods, his mouth quirking into an odd sort of smile. He turns back to the drawers. Of course I remember Loren: she was two years above me at school. I remember her being quiet though, and shy. I can't imagine her stripping naked for Finnick Odair.

'Doesn't your wife mind?' I ask in awe, staring at the back of his head.

'My what?' he says, turning to me with an incredulous smile on his face.

'Your wife, Aqua,' He begins to laugh again, like he did in the bathroom. This time, I catch a proper look at his face. It seems lit up from the inside, his cheeks and eyes crinkling with delight. It's so beautiful it makes me want to cry. In that moment, I see what every girl at my school sees. It makes me feel sad. Maybe he isn't a scorpion after all. Maybe he's a mutt. An Angel fish, who has been mutated by the games so much that he's barely recognisable. In that moment, I stop fearing him.

'My wife?' he says, still chuckling, 'Aqua's not my wife.'

'She isn't?' I'm confused, 'But you kissed her, and she made her dress go around you, and then she kissed you again.'

'D'you really think she would have been so lenient on you if I hadn't done those things?' he asks, shaking his head in amusement.

'She's in love with you.' I state firmly: I know I'm right on this count.

'Nah she isn't,' he says, so casually it shocks me, 'She's in lust with me: like most of the Capitol's female population.' He shrugs.

'How do you do it?' I ask in awe, 'How do you make them fall in love with you?' Already, my mind is speeding. Maybe I can make the Capitol fall in love with me. I remember watching Finnick's games: he wanted for nothing. He had over three hundred sponsors, all of whom had sent him gifts to keep him alive. Maybe if I could make people fall in love with me, I might be able to survive the games.

'Cottoned on have we?' he asks, looking at me shrewdly. 'It's a combination of raw materials and practice.' He gestures to his body and this time it's me who rolls my eyes a little. He catches it instantly. 'What, you don't find this sexehhh?' he says, pulling the ugliest sex-face I've ever seen.

'For someone who makes everyday look incredible, you sure make sexy look repulsive,' I retort and he clutches his heart in mock misery.

'I don't think we can make the sexy thing work for you though,' he says, his face quickly flicking back to serious, 'You're not charming enough.' It shouldn't do, but this smarts a little. I know I've never been the most popular person, but when it comes out of Finnick Odair's mouth, it really drives the point home.

'If you can charm people and make them fall in love with you so easily, then why hasn't it worked on me?' I ask testily, ruining the effect slightly by losing myself in his sea-green eyes.

'Because I never tried,' he shrugs.

'Why?' I ask before I can stop myself. He smirks at me and then turns back to the drawers.

'Because, first I was too angry with you,' I wince, remembering him shaking me. A flash of guilt follows as I remember Corill. 'Then, I thought that maybe you had a chance,' he continues, 'at winning I mean. You have to have a clear head to do that. I'm somewhat… intoxicating.' I can hear the laughter in his voice and I'm about to retort when I realise what he's just said. He thinks I could win. Finnick Odair thinks I might have a chance of returning to Four. I want to hug him, but I sense that he wouldn't appreciate it.

'You couldn't have made me fall in love with you anyway,' I say scathingly instead. He freezes for a moment, then turns to me. The first thing I notice are his eyes. If they were striking before, it's nothing to how they look now. They seem darker somehow, a churning sea of green. Heart-stopping. They seem to beam out of his face and see right through me. He glares at me and I see a dominating emotion in those eyes: hunger. It makes my stomach twist and warmth flood through me and I feel myself blush. He uncurls his body slowly and stretches up, drawing my eyes to the hard muscles beneath his skin. I catch a glimpse of his stomach and I gulp slightly. He walks towards me, lifting his hand and reaching out to touch my face. His fingertips burn, and I try to remember that this is all put on, that he is trying to make me feel this way. He parts his lips slightly and wets them a little with his tongue: I have to bite my lip to make sure I don't make a sound.

'Annaelie,' he murmurs in that velvet voice of his, and then because he's so close, and I can feel the heat from his chest, and I can smell salt on his breath, and there's so much longing in his voice: I lean forward to kiss him. He steps smartly backwards, grinning and taking a flamboyant bow. I would be embarrassed if I wasn't so impressed.

'How?' I ask, dumbstruck, '…How?' He chuckles a little at my reaction.

'Guess it's just my animal magnetism,' he sighs, 'It's a burden sometimes.' He walks away wiggling his butt.

'Life must be so easy for you,' I say wistfully. He halts.

'You'd think that wouldn't you,' he says, the bitterness back in his voice. I don't know what I've said wrong so I stay quiet for a couple of seconds. 'There!' he says triumphantly, pulling out what looks like a silk dressing gown out of a drawer.

'Thanks,' I say gratefully, taking it from him and putting it on over my towel.

'Hey hey hey hey!' he says snatching it back. 'Don't put it on now, it'll be wet for dinner!' I stare at him for a couple of seconds.

'I'm wearing that for dinner? It's a bathrobe!'

'Silk bathrobe,' he corrects. 'We're going to make you subtle and mysterious.' He looks gleeful, as if he's made a great discovery.

'But I'm not subtle or mysterious.' I say bluntly.

'Subtle, maybe not,' he amends a smile flickering across his face. I know he's thinking about the bathroom incident, 'but mysterious, I think we can work with. I sure as hell can't figure you out.'

'What's there to figure out?' I mutter, as I go into the bathroom with my handpicked clothes and shut the door.

'Well,' Finnick's voice comes from the other side of the wood, 'When I first met you, you were on the verge of a mental breakdown, wearing a sparkly wetsuit and a fishing net; you thanked me for casually assaulting you in a cellar; you preceded to attack me, your mentor; you were looking significantly at that peace-keeper with the weird eyebrows; you sexually assaulted the other tribute; managed to break an unbreakable shower; proclaimed my marriage to Aqua; congratulated me on charming and then rejecting you; disapproved of a glorious silk bathrobe, the list goes on and on!' In spite of myself, I laughed a little.

'I see what you mean about the bathrobe,' I say, 'It does make me look mysterious and subtle,' I wrench open the door, 'If mysterious and subtle are synonyms for hooker.' He winces as he looks me up and down.

'I see your point,' he says hastening over to the dresser again, 'I tried for sexy and mysterious, that would be hard for even me to pull off in that bathrobe.'

'You definitely couldn't pull that off in this bathrobe. I think it's impossible,' I say sadly. He scoffs loudly, muttering something that sounds like 'Challenge'.

'Here,' he says, throwing me a pair of loose trousers and a shirt, typical of semi-formal events in Four. 'I think we've learned an important lesson here today Annaelie, leave the styling to the stylists, and never leave you alone with Capitol technology.'

'Agreed,' I say fervently, 'but my name is Annie, not Annaelie.' I offer him a smile which he returns.

'Annie suits you more,' he says smoothing back my hair off my forehead, 'but Annaelie sounds,' he brings his mouth close to my ear, 'more mysterious.' I shudder slightly and he grins again.

'Quit doing that,' I say gruffly, shoving him away from me.

'Go down to dinner,' he says rolling his eyes, 'I'll be there in a minute.'

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