I do not own The Hunger Games.
I do think this scene is misunderstood a lot.
The Peacock and The Mockingjay
There they were.
In the underground.
Not the whispered secret underground.
The cold, cavernous, concrete holding area under the Tribute Tower.
Styled after the ruthless Roman Colosseum Underground.
Where animals and fighters were held until showtime.
Complete with grated openings.
Where cheering spectators . . .
"Katniss!"
. . . could crane and peer down . . .
"Katniss!"
. . . at their chosen . . .
"Katniss!"
. . . contender.
They were there.
All of them.
The Careers.
The Tributes.
The Young.
The Old.
The Celebrated.
And the Forgotten.
All sacrificial lambs to their vilely venerated President Coriolanus Snow's savage slaughter.
Each and every (save) one.
But there was only one of their doomed peers Finnick Odair really really wanted to speak to.
She wasn't too hard to find.
They lined up numerically by Districts.
Sent them out with pomp and circumstance to show themselves off to the hungry, salivating Capitol.
Before they ran.
And fought.
And died.
So all he had to do was walk the line.
Metaphorically.
Literally.
And find her at the end.
There.
Yeah.
By the horses.
Almost any species is more preferable than our human one.
The Girl on Fire.
Most of them anyway.
Finnick Odair was thoroughly convinced Caesar Flickerman had never Caesar Flickerman-ed so hard in his entire life over anything so much as this girl from District 12.
Just about everyone else too.
They talked about her, openly and in hushed furtive murmurs.
They told fanciful tales, spun wild stories.
The desperate, hidden ones believed she just might be the fire that sparked the long awaited revolution, brought down the system and the man with his thumb on the scales of all their desperate destinies.
Finnick had seen too much, suffered too much, lost too much.
And even now still had too much to lose . . .
Annie-
. . . to blindly believe her ruse.
Besides, he knew the truth.
That she was a complete and absolute fake.
That she would do anything, in the end, to save her own skin.
Just like the rest of them.
That she, contrary to popular belief, was not the innocent, pure-hearted hero they all needed to believe she was.
But just another self-serving individual.
Just like them all.
Helpless and hopeless against the Capitol.
Anyone willing to use half their brain could see that the pathetic displays she and her bread-making 'partner' tossed to them was fake.
Their 'true love'.
'Love'.
Sure.
So Finnick Odair . . .
"Katniss."
. . . decided to have a little meet-n-greet sum-up . . .
"Hello, Finnick."
. . . of his own.
To see.
To observe.
To test.
First, a little strut, a little preen.
"Do you want a sugar cube?"
Followed by a tasty treat.
"I mean, it's supposed to be for the horses but . . ."
Followed by the real reason he was here.
". . . who cares about them, right?"
To size her up.
"They got years to eat sugar."
Weigh her Capitol.
"Whereas you and I, . . ."
So to speak.
". . . well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it."
She refused the offering with disdain, of course.
"No thanks."
That was her part of the game, obviously.
"But I would love to borrow that outfit someday."
And she did play.
"You look pretty terrifying in that getup."
Some.
"What happened to the pretty little girl dresses?"
Mostly just glared at him.
"I outgrew them."
And mouthed off.
"You certainly did."
It was clear she wanted nothing to do with him.
Practically spit out her words at his feet.
Well, obviously.
We are here to kill each other, aren't we?
Speaking of which . . .
"Shame about this Quell thing."
Would've hated to not kill more people for the enjoyment of the Capitol.
Be their whore in more ways than one.
"You could've made out like a bandit in the Capitol."
Boy, could she have.
Stunningly beautiful, mouthy, tough.
Untouchable.
Everybody would have wanted her.
"Jewels, money, . . ."
Finnick might even have lost some patrons himself.
". . . anything you wanted."
Not that he would have minded.
More time with Annie.
But still, this was all . . .
"Well, I don't like jewels and I have more money than I need so . . ."
Ah yes. Very high and noble.
Very humble, of course.
Very District 12.
. . . just another part of the test.
". . . what did you do with all your wealth, anyway?"
Oh sweetie, money will get you nowhere.
Not really.
"Oh I haven't dealt with anything so common as money in years."
Not for what I value.
"Then how do people pay for the pleasure of your company?"
Curious choice of phrase.
But since you asked . . .
And he moved in closer.
"With secrets."
Way up close.
Closer than she wanted.
That's the trick, isn't it?
"What about you, Girl on Fire?"
Casual intimidation, uncomfortable familiarity.
Charmingly subtle flirtatious invitation.
"Got any secrets worth my time?"
Because I do.
About you.
And your Mockingjay.
And she didn't seem too pleased to admit it.
"I'm an open book."
But also seemed to have culled the treasure trove of her clever words.
"Everybody seems to know my secrets before I know them myself."
Ah, very astute.
Very self-aware.
"Unfortunately, I think that's true."
You really have no idea, do you?
But he was still playing the game.
And he still didn't believe her schtick.
"I'm sorry you had to cancel your wedding."
Your copious crocodile tears must drench your bedroom floor.
"I know how devastating that must be for you."
After all, I myself know the look of the mockery of love.
I practically invented it.
And you, honey, . . .
"Have a good day."
. . . are very bad at it.
And then he grinned.
Turned.
"Peeta."
"Finnick."
And walked right off.
I'll be honest, it took me a while to warm up to Finnick.
Especially after the whole 'who's this douchemonkey' scene.
But like I said, he's misunderstood.
And I adore him.
Also, the pic is by Mirish on DeviantArt and I think it's absolutely, hilariously perfect. Well done, Mirish!
Thanks for reading.
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