A huge thank you to everyone who has reviewed! You guys make my day every time :)

Ariana Cala Swan, Sorciere6174, MetallicMedallion, caleb's babe, felicityawhite: Thank you so much for the praise

Manaliac: Thank you for all your reviews! I can't reveal too much about the Games without giving away Spoilers, but I hope I will do the characters justice and that it will be interesting to read.

Raveny's Beating Heart: I can't promise a posting schedule, my available writing time is very sporadic so I write when I can. But I will post as often as possible.

foreverily: I'm so glad you gave the story a chance. I usually like "older guy, younger girl" as well, but I really wanted to write something that was unique and stand out to many of the other Finnick/Katniss stories there are. I really hope I can live up to your expectations.

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The black dress Cinna has placed me in hugs my curves like a sheath. The lace that makes up the sleeves and lays over the black satin shifts colors like an ember that's stubornly refusing to come back alight despite the best efforts of someone trying to billow it aflame once more. The skirt ends at my knees in front but just grazes the floor in the back and is made up of thousands of glossy black feathers.

Its the night of the final interviews and the air is thick with nervous excitement. Caesar is currently speaking with Teak, he and Patcholi exude confidence, as they should since they both scored 9's in testing.

Backstage, Drax from 2 looks uncomfortable in his tailored suit and keeps pulling at the ends of the sleeves. Koren had revealed that the other male Tribute had torn the sleeves off all of his training uniforms. His female counterpart Lobo is idly fiddling with the blunted metal studs on her green dress looking extremely bored.

Looking back to my own Tributes I feel concerned watching the pair of them. Calluna's dark blue dress featured a sweetheart neckline, exquisite crystal appliques all aling the bodice and floor-length skirt. The full skirt was characterized by the dainty ruchings and gorgeous appliqued decorations. But despite how lovely she looked, she had already been sick twice and Haymitch had trust a large bowl into her hands with strict instructions to not be sick on her dress.

Koren for his part was possibly even more on edge. He paced back and forth like a caged animal all the while muttering conversations with himself under his breath. In testing Koren had scored a 9 while Calluna had been given an 8.

On stage Caesar as always is making a grand show of getting to know the Tributes. After he finished with District 3, Annie made her way to the stage. Though quiet she was upbeat, kind and engaging. In testing she had scored a 7, to which Haymitch had tried to dissuade including her in an alliance but Koren and Calluna had insisted that Finnick would not enter any alliance without her.

Finnick had scored a 10 in testing and soon after taking the stage, had the audience eating out of his hand. Cat-calls filled the air as he strutted across the platform. He was dressed in a opaque green shirt that was open nearly to his waist with tight beige pants and tall brown boots. For a little while Caesar asked him about growing up in the Academy and being Mentored and raised by Mags, but then he ask,

"Now Finnick, as I'm sure you are aware you are a very attractive young man. And you have developed quite a few female fans here in the Capital, and likely all over Panem." Female cheers ring out loudly in agreement. Then Caesar continues, "And I'm sure many of them would like to know, are you in love with Annie Cresta?"

The moment before he answers seems to stretch on for hours. It would be so easy for him to say yes. For him to lie and say he volunteered so that he could save Annie or die with her. At 18 it be so much easier to portray as true love than the tender beginnings of first love that Peeta and I had performed. People would clamor to sponsor them, the Capital would once more have their star-crossed lovers, and maybe this time they'd both survive.

But for some reason the thought of seeing Finnick and Annie together as a couple, even just to pretend, it caused a hallow ache in my chest. My worries were unfounded though for Finnick merely smiled his most endearing smile and replied, "No, Annie and I are just friends. We've known each other forever though and she's like family."

"So if not Annie is there someone else special in your life?"

Shaking his head, Finnick's smile turns seductive, "No Caesar there isn't. And I'm thankful there isn't, otherwise I might not be able to fully appreciate all the gorgeous women in the Capital I've seen." He winks at one of the cameras, causing more appreciative squeals to fill the building.

The interview lasts a little longer before Caesar bids Finnick farewell and good luck in the Games. After watching the spectacle on the monitor above us backstage I roll my eyes at the playboy attitude Finnick has adopted. He of all people should know the consequences of such a persona.

Turning back to my Tributes I offer them a silent reassuring smile. It seems to help some but then one of the crew members wheels a cart past laden with food items asking if anyone desired anything. Calluna, at the sight and smell of the offerings, became violently sick once more. Letting out a sigh I ask the crew member for a bottle of water before shooing him away before he can make anyone more distressed.

"Here." I say to Calluna, handing her the bottle. "Rinse and spit, then take a drink. Slowly." I instruct.

"Oh my." Effie bemoans seeing the vomit filled bowl on Calluna's lap. She had just returned from doing "reconnaissance" on the other Districts. Apparently District 12 had been seeing bets on being favorites not experienced since Peeta and I had been Reaped.

"Effie do you have any breath mints?" I ask hoping the candy could help provide a slight distraction.

Nodding with understanding she looks through her handbag but comes up empty. Haymitch had left 20 minutes ago to retrieve some poppy milk, a medicine that soothed stomach upsets, but he still hadn't returned.

"Maybe one of the crew will have something." I try to reassure Calluna who now seems to be panicking over smelly breath.

Heading away from our group I ask everyone I cross paths with, but by some twist of fate no oe seems to have any. I'm about to give up and head back empty handed when the powerful scent of spearmint passes under my nose.

Turning I search for the source of the smell and I instantly spot Finnick leaning against a wall flirting with one of the girls from District 8's prep team. She's nearly as short as I am but has bright fuchsia hair and heavy gold make-up.

For a long moment I debate going over and cutting in, but the disgruntled feeling in my stomach urged me forward. So with more aggression then I intended I step between the pair and interrupt,

"Finnick can I talk to you?"

Surprise flicks across his face but it's smoothly replaced by an easy smile. "Sure thing Kitten."

He follows me to a quiet corner a little distance away before I turn and question, "Can I have a breath mint?"

Finnick's face is so incredulous it's nearly comical. He regains his composure after a few seconds though and smirks, "Why Kat, I'm flattered you'd think of -"

"Cut the crap Odair." I snap. "Calluna has been throwing up since we got here. She's already insecure enough without having to face Caesar and the cameras with the smell on her breath. So a simple yes or no will do."

"You couldn't have just ask me back there?" He questioned gesturing to were we had come from. "I was having a very interesting conversation with Helena." I roll my eyes. At seeing this he develops an insufferable smirk. "You weren't jealous were you Kitten?"

I scoff and make to turn away but he grabs my arm and spins me back. Reaching into his pocket he pulls out an old tin box and opens the lid. Inside are small green and white striped candies and a number of pure white sugar cubes.

"Take as many as you need. Would you also like a sugar cube?" He winks placing the sweet on his tongue and slowly sliding it into his mouth. The whole time his eyes never leave mine, they're look intense.

Irritated I snatch two mints and begin to walk away, but then I hear him chuckle under his breath. And something inside of me snaps.

"Is this really actually funny to you?!" I round on him, storming my retraced steps to stand toe to toe with him, glaring into his eyes with my full fury. "24 kids being told to try and kill each other. That's funny? The spectacle before hand, the so called celebrations, what a blast. The vying for Sponsors, to try and get help to kill others." I start to babble. "Not to mention the life after, the money, fame, parties, being pimped out to whoever whenever. You say you don't want it, but you seem to fit right into their ideal of a Victor." I accuse gesturing to his ridiculous outfit.

I can tell I hit a nerve as Finnick's eyes narrow and his fists clench."You of all people should recognize a persona when you see one." He snaps, stepping forward so he's now towering over me. If it weren't for my own anger I probably would have felt very intimidated by the way his body size envelopes mine. "You really think I've had the time or inclination to look at all those preposterous empty headed vultures? I'll need them to like me if I'm to survive long enough to help Annie. And how dare you look down your nose at me. How much of yourself did you bend and twist to get them to like you during your Games? Did you ever really care about Peeta? Or is the loss you feel just a part of your character?" He sneers reaching out and fingering a patch of feathers at my hip. The gesture holds none of the gentleness or comfort he displayed before. This time it's full of condescension and malice.

Enraged I slap him across the face. His head whips to the side but he quickly turns his neck to once again look at me, his eyes boring into mine, daring me to contradict him. I want to curse at him, tell him that I had cared about Peeta. I want to scream that his death weighs on me every day and haunts me every night. But Haymitch's words replay in my head and I take a low blow by hissing, "I hope you live long enough for you to experience even half the pain I have watching people die, having blood on your hands and knowing no amount of time or penance will wash it away." I lift my chin and give my best, haughty Capitalite smirk. "May the odds be ever in your favor."

Already feeling guilt for my harsh, thoughtless words I turn and walk away.

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