As stingily efficient as ever, Thirteen had only supplied him with one sheet of paper and a single dull pencil to write the most important speech of his life. Finnick chewed on the eraser as he thought. He'd already filled most of the page with phrases and ideas that weren't anywhere near perfect enough, and they had already been crossed out. Now, his pencil was dull and only the bottom third of the back remained, and Finnick felt no closer than he had two hours before.
Fingers ran through his curly bronze hair and a soft body pressed against his back. "How is it coming?"
"It could be better," he said, smiling up at her.
She kissed his forehead, and he basked in her touch. "I'll love you even if they aren't perfect."
"That's good to hear, but I still want to do this right."
"And that, Finnick, is why I'll love you anyway."
A/N: Thanks to Guest and EB for reviewing!
