Johanna has never been known for her soft touch, probably because it simply doesn't even exist. Finnick still isn't really expecting it when he's caught mid-laugh with the palm of her hand pressing hard enough into his chest that his back hits the wall. She's all fire and glares, teeth bared at him, and the laugh dies in his throat, but he can't quite keep it out of his eyes as he looks down at her.

They're at a party - she hates it, he's forced to love it. The music is loud, the people louder, and he knows a large part of her irritation isn't so much at him as it is at her surroundings. He just knows things like that about her.

It's because they're friends, but she's too stupid (too smart) to call him that in return, to actually acknowledge it.

"If you wanted to get me alone," Finnick starts, "all you had to do was ask. Although, I have to admit, I do like a strong wo-"

She punches him in the mouth with the same hand that shoved him.

He grabs her wrist before she can get it in her head to hit him again, fingers digging tight into the skin. "What did I do?"

There's almost a plea in his voice, and he can see the disgust crawl over her face. She doesn't even bother to disguise it.

"How could you? Are you stupid?" But her tone says that she already thinks that he is. That she doesn't believe he knows what the hell he is doing.

He really isn't sure what it is that he's done now. "What are you talking about?"

"That girl, the victor. Are you serious? Finnick, she's…" With a noise of irritation, Johanna pushes away from him, running her fingers through her hair. She's ruining it, he thinks absently. But it's better that way. Delicate curls aren't Johanna Mason.

He brushes his coat, as if wiping dust from himself. "She's what? Mad, useless, not worth my time?"

A pained look crosses her face. She's vulnerable for him, because she trusts him. Finnick isn't sure if that makes her stupid or not. "She's not safe with you," is all that Johanna says, her voice soft under the swell of the Capitol guests.

His jaw clenches as he grits his teeth. He jabs a finger at his own chest, body leaning in toward her menacingly. "She's safer with me than anyone else. I can take care of her."

"You can barely take care of yourself!"

"Is that worry I hear in Johanna Mason's voice?" His own pitches low, and he moves in again, walking her back until she's hit the wall.

She isn't afraid of him, though. She's there because she's allowing it, and that's just fine with him. "No."

"You care about a poor mad girl?"

"No."

"Then why the theatrics?" His mouth brushes against her ear. "Jealous?"

Johanna knees him, but there's a particular awareness of what she's doing as her knee slams into his gut rather than his crotch. With a shallow gasp, he stumbles away from her, folding over as he sucks in a breath. It aches, but he doesn't expect anything else.

"I am so far from jealous, you stupid asshole. You're going to get people killed the way you're going, and you know what's going to happen?"

"I'm going to end up like you?" he groans out, finally standing up straight.

She snaps back like he's just punched her, and he instantly regrets it. That's something about Johanna, too. He cares. About her. He doesn't often regret things, but that…

"I'm sorry," he tells her, reaching out for her arm.

She jerks back and away from him. "What's there to be sorry about? I don't have any attachments. I'm not some bleeding heart idiot who decided that he wanted to fall in love or whatever the hell it is you're doing with her."

Finnick's quiet for a long moment. The seconds tick by, and finally, finally, he beats her. Johanna can't even keep staring him down, dark eyes flickering to the marble tile below their feet.

"You didn't even have the decency to tell me," she mutters, crossing her arms over her chest. She still can't look him in the eye.

"How'd you find out anyway?" He's tried to be careful, to protect Annie. To keep the Capitol from knowing.

"Snow," Johanna mutters hollowly. "I overheard him."

He nods slowly, heart pounding hard in his chest. That's nothing new. Snow would have found out eventually. Snow would use that against Finnick, too, not that he needed extra ammunition. Finnick was already doing what he wanted for Mags. For Johanna, too, but that was his own secret. He was doing it for the secrets.

Annie, though, Annie was a danger to him.

Annie was his weakness in a way that Mags couldn't be.

"What'd he say?"

"Does it matter, Finnick? You're so stupid, I just…" She groans and kicks him in the shin. "You should have told me. We're supposed to be-" Johanna cuts herself off.

He arches an eyebrow at her. "Yes?"

"I'm not going to say it."

Finnick snorts. "Friends."

"Nope, not saying it. It's a stupid word, and I don't give a shit about what you do." She waves him off and begins to stomp back to the party in the least lady-like fashion.

Grabbing her wrist, he spins her back to him, not letting her go. "You weren't trying to beat me up because you don't care."

"You just make it too easy."

"Johanna."

"You're all I have left, Finnick," she finally admits, her voice so soft, he's sure he heard wrong. He's sure it's all an act. But then she goes on. "Snow can't touch you, not unless he wants to lose his favorite, but the more… The more you put on your shoulders, the more he can find other ways to touch you."

Johanna pauses again, looking disgruntled at the rush of honesty, at being forced to talk about her own feelings. She gnashes her teeth at him when a small smile tugs at his own lips, but he can't really help it. She's cute, in her own way. In her Johanna way, which is what he likes best about her. That is, everything, for the most part.

"He can destroy you, Finnick, and then what will I have? Nobody."

"Then I won't let him destroy me," is all Finnick has to say in response to that.

She laughs bitterly, giving him a flat look. "Do we have any choices? Do you? Annie will be your weakness."

He knows. He knows it, but he doesn't know what to do. He loves her, he loves her so much that there's a constant ache in his chest. He loves her so much that he'll let people touch him in the most disgusting ways. And maybe that shows on his face, because there's a look of absolute loathing in Johanna's eyes.

"I hate you," she tells him.

"I don't think you really do," he says in return.

That look hurts more than he wants to admit, but he doesn't let her see it. He bottles it up in the same place as the hands of the citizens' he's been passed off to go. Of their words and hot breath on his skin. He puts her look and her hatred in the same place as them, because it's not like she's really any better. Better than them, better than him.

"I don't need you," she spits.

He laughs hollowly, letting her go. There are bruises wrapped around her wrist that he wonders how she'll explain away. She snatches her arm back, not paying attention to it at all.

"No, I don't think you do," Finnick says gently. "But I think you want to have me as a friend, even if you have no idea how to do it."

She swallows hard, and he watches it bob in her throat. Her hand pushes into his chest again. "You're an idiot, and that girl is going to get you killed."

When she walks away this time, he lets her. He watches her disappear into the crowd before he follows her out, swallowing back the fear that's bubbling up in his throat.