"You were so different from the rest,
With you, you carried meaning,
And that was good enough for me."
Finnick liked Annie because she was unlike any woman he had ever met. She was… different, in a good way. She enjoyed watching sunsets, and staring at the stars—she took pleasure in the simplest things. Finnick knew why. Annie had been through so much and she knew just how quickly happiness could be torn away from someone.
"Finnick…" Annie said, not looking at him. "I just realized… I didn't really thank you yet. Thanks… for saving my life, I mean."
"You're welcome." Many women thanked him—for spending the night with them—but none of those women ever thanked him like this. Another reason why Annie's different, Finnick thought.
Finnick gazed at Annie—at her wavy dark hair and at her fair skin. And when you come down to it, she's actually kind of… pretty, Finnick mused. Annie turned to him, her sea-green eyes glittering in the moonlight. She blushed slightly.
Annie turned a deeper shade of pink under Finnick's gaze. "Please… don't look at me like that," Annie said softly. "I know I look like a mess."
"No, you look great," Finnick told her honestly, because she was his friend. And he was hers.
"Finnick? …Do you really mean it?" Annie's cheeks were a deep scarlet now.
Finnick paused and considered this for a moment. Did he really mean it? "Of course I mean it," Finnick replied.