Another chapter! So soon! Aren't I just the best;) Sigh, I wish I could make them fall in love already. But it's only their first day of really 'knowing' each other, so I've got to take it slow. Which means you have to wait it out! I'm horrible, I know. Thanks for reading and I hope this isn't too much of a disappointment:)

Come out upon my knees
Cursed missed opportunities
Am I part of the cure?
Or am I part of the disease?

Clocks; Coldplay.

Annie's POV

"Annalaese! Annalaese!"

*Snap* *click* *SNAPSNAPSNAP*

"ANNALEASE!"

They call my name like a pack of wild, starving dogs, and it's horrifying. They're snarling at me, shoving each other just to see my face. Pure, fluorescent, blinding white light continually flashes before my eyes, rendering me temporarily blind.

It was equal parts mesmerizing and terrifying, but no matter the level of the horror or the pain in my retinas; I couldn't seem to turn away. I couldn't even move. The lights are so intriguing. They keep flashing, like a sun blocked and then allowed to shine, just for me. They absorb my vision until the actual photographers are no longer visible, only the twirling and blinking white. My lips parted slightly as I grew increasingly incoherent.

The next flash shocked me, sending my vision, or lack thereof, into spirals. I was suddenly dizzy, and I squeezed my eyes shut just as the lights cut out. Despite the lack of bulbs my brain showed my visions of a spinning black-and-white tube, and it left me reeling. I grabbed at my hair in confusion and opened my eyes, hoping to find a place of respite.

I was already in shelter. The world before me was dark and comforting, and despite my lack of knowledge as to how I had entered this sanctuary, I was grateful. Leaning in towards it, I inhaled a scent that smelled suspiciously familiar, a scent of sea breeze unsuccessfully attempting to be covered by an expensive perfume.

"Don't get too caught up with them, baby-girl, they can be the most dangerous of the Capitol's muttations. Men with camera's permanently attached to their hands." The voice was low and gravelly, the arms that pressed against my back strong and confident, the shelter was Finnick.

Leaning against his well-kept iron-like body for support and immunity from the flashes, we made our way into the train. Once inside, I peeled my body off of his, my slightly damp dress sticking to his tight T-shirt.

I tilted my head upwards, for the first time realizing how much height Finnick had on me. Our eyes met, his orbs only slightly darker than my own, and I found them filled with unrestricted amusement.

"They nearly ate you alive out there," He smiled, placing his finger beneath my chin to tip it further upwards. "That means they like you."

His touch lit a fire on my cheeks, and I couldn't help but twitch out of his touch as I laughed. "Well now that you've gotten me out of one fatal situation, hopefully you'll be able to get me out of another, hmm?"

Despite his reputation as a Lothario, Finnick's flirtations still surprised and unnerved me. I would never deny that he was beautiful, but along with that beauty came his unpredictability and the undefinable twist in my stomach that generally came with talking to boys who looked like him.

My attempt at a joke, in most lights, would have been at least a touch humorous. Although it had been an effort on my part to relieve the tension of being Reaped, it went a touch too far. My throat started to swell and close, aching as it always did when I got emotional. I could feel my eyes wetting, and I closed them in an brief attempt at hiding the pain. I let out a strangled laugh, and even to my own ears it sounded fake and disingenuous. The joke had been too much, and we both knew it.

When I reopened my eyes Finnick was staring at me curiously, his eyes searching me up and down before glazing over, as if he had been caught deciding on how to react. There was something strangely forced about Finnick, but it made sense. When you have to train kids every year only to watch them die, your relationship with the Games would be strained.

"I'm, uh, I'm just gonna go find my room." I nodded awkwardly, pretending to itch my upper arm for lack of something better to do. "I'll see you in a few hours I suppose." I attempted another smile before jerking around as the tears hit my cheeks.

My total lack of knowledge regarding the train's layout left me wandering for several minutes before I sat down on a bench and attempted some deep breathing.

Surely it was a piece of good karma coming around when Stark rounded the corner. Finally I was ushered into my room, all the while hearing about the outfits I would get to wear and the food I would get to eat - with my first meal starting in about two hours, by her calculation. I smiled and giggled on cue, pulling at my dress in faux-enthusiasm and squealing as she flapped her hands eccentrically. My emotion must have pleased her, because when she left I received a pat on the head and kiss on the cheek, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

It must have been another piece of good luck that she didn't notice my eyes, gleaming with tears.

Finnick's POV

"It's a simple question Finnick, what's she like!" Mags huffed before shakily stuffing a sugar cube in her mouth, obviously frustrated with my inability to articulate.

"I already told you she's.. hard to explain." I ran a hand through my hair, willing descriptor words to enter my mind. "She's strange, that's for sure." I let out a small chuckle, remembering the vacant look in her eyes after being Reaped and the way she had reacted to the paparazzi.

Mags simply scoffed and got up from her chair, hunting the cupboards for some snack or another.

"She's a pretty little thing though," I smirked, licking my lips and leaning against the polished marble wall.

After glaring at me Mags continued on her search. "I wasn't asking for her aesthetics," she growled.

I could only laugh at her grumpiness. "Are you so impatient you can't just wait for dinner to meet her for yourself?"

Shutting the cupboard door with finality, she turned to me warily. "Why don't you go get her and I'll get Amphitrite? I'm sure they would appreciate some friendly conversation and warm food right about now."

"I'm simply a slave to your wishes," A genuine grin crossed my face as I bowed, sweeping my arm out dramatically.

Mags soft, wrinkled hands brushed lightly against the exposed skin on my arm like silk on cotton, admonishing me with a light laugh.

As her padded feet shuffled noisily out the room, I began to make the short journey from common room to Annalaese's designated space.

My thoughts were immediately drawn back to her behavior at the train station. She had been immediately overwhelmed by the bright flashes and screaming, and while they had reacted unusually strong to her - which was no surprise, they did the same with all attractive tributes - she was going to be facing a hell of a lot worse at the Capitol, let alone in the arena. I sighed, running a hand through my hair yet again.

I began to wonder what she thought about when she became quiet and unresponsive. Surely, if she was retreating from the outside world, her thoughts and inner self must be something interesting. Was she thinking about death? The Games? Or did she prefer to revolve around happier thoughts, like the boy from the train station?

The idea perplexed me, so I decided to think of something else. The name of the other tribute, Amphitrite, popped into my head as I recalled Mags' brief description of the boy. He was a Career, tall and athletic with plenty of confidence. When Mags had asked who I would rather mentor, I was rather taken aback. Within a very short space of time I had apparently preselected myself as Annalaese's mentor. I hadn't really questioned it, it just seemed natural to coach the girl. I think it was the fact that she seemed so naivete - someone had to show her the way around weapons, and it certainly wouldn't be Mags. Without much further conversation it was official, I would teach her how to handle weapons while Mags would attempt to give the boy a calm mind and hopefully teach him some strategy.

Thinking again of Annalaese's innocence, I recalled with pleasure the blush that rose to her cheeks when I had brushed her chin briefly. She was so very cute, resisting my flirtations with giggles and dewy eyes. I think maybe I'd make it a goal of mine to crack her chaste facade during the next two weeks.

As I had finalized the thoughts in my head, the door I had been searching for seemed to magically appear before my eyes.

What perfect timing, I snickered.

With a smirk and a slight rushing of blood, I pushed the door open, the polished wood hitting the wall with a thud.

"Oh, Annalaese -" I purr, lips curling.

I'm cut short when I see her silhouette pressed up against the window of the train. She must have heard me, but she doesn't move. Doesn't even respond, instead preferring to continue her gaze out the large transparent glass.

After another minute of silence, noise leaves her motionless form.

"Yes, Finnick?" Her tone is quiet and monotonous. I'm a bother distracting her from the view, unsummoned and unwanted. Is she kidding me?

After a brief eyebrow raise I trek silently to her side, attempting to see what she finds so interesting in the world sliding by through the glass.

As the trees fly by, I find my gaze slipping to her face. She really is beautiful; in a delicate, feminine sort of way. Her lips are a glorious bee-stung pink, her noise small and perfectly curved. Light freckles dance across her cheeks, giving her pale face contrast. Her long, black lashes frame her best feature - her eyes; flecked with gold and rimmed with blue, melding into a sea green. Even I didn't have eyes like that. And there was something else, besides the colour. There was something old and wistful, something wise well beyond the years of her body. Something I couldn't quite understand.

The heat of her body feels good next to mine, and it surprises me when I inhale a scent reminiscent of cinnamon.

I draw in breath to ask -

"Doesn't it make you feel as if you've never really lived?" She spoke, interrupting me.

I'm taken aback. "What?"

Despite her words, she doesn't turn to face me, only begins to smile lightly.

"Being called up as a tribute. That moment. Doesn't it make you feel... as if you've missed all your chances, let too many opportunities fly by?" Her response is more of a statement than a question. "And now that you finally get to see the world beyond 4, it's to meet your death. Poetically, beautiful. Realistically," She bites her lip, almost laughing. "Not so much."

I stand for a second, stunned. What is she talking about?

I bring my lips to her ear and exhale slowly onto her neck, my body tingling. "Darling, the only thing I see around here that's beautiful is you. Why don't you come on down to dinner, hmm? Maybe we can even get a little sugar later, huh Sugar?" My fingers fall to her hip, and I draw my fingers in a enticing, drawn-out pattern, fingering the cloth of her pants.

She exhales loudly and pushes away me with slim fingers. "God, Finnick. Are you like this with all your female tributes?" Her normally chipper voice is tainted with something like disgust. Her eyes, while not holding distaste, are suddenly frightening. Her eyebrows are creased and her lips slightly parted as she seems to burrow through my eyes in an attempt to understand something she can't quite comprehend.

But there is nothing to comprehend. I am nothing to be understood. I'm a shallow, vain, disgusting man.

I bite my tongue and nonetheless feel frustration growing in my chest. Shaking my head, I gesture out the door.

"It's dinner," My voice is colder then I had intended and my eyes steely.

She searches me for another few seconds before dropping it and exiting the room.

My eyebrows furrow once again at her complexity before I follow her out the door. I run a hand over my face, as if it would devoid if of all emotion. I wish.

"So, what did you spend your time doing?" My voice is almost back to normal, but I still can't masquerade the evident annoyance.

"Uh, nothing really." Her voice is warm, but still distant and relatively uninterested. My attempt at conversation had failed. It never fails.

What's she so prissy about, anyway? An inner voice snarls.

Why does it matter, Finnick? This new voice startles me, because it's not quite my own. How it got there, I shall never know.

I never was able to get it to leave.

I know that was a longer chapter, so I hope you got through it! I'm very excited to write a certain part of next chapter, so hopefully when inspiration hits me I'll be able to impress y'all with something exceeeellent:D I'll give you a few hints: it involves Stark, a rose, and some Finnick-related angst!

A few subleties: Annie liking Finnick's body as a shelter, Finnick liking Annie's closeness, Finnick not being able to quite define Annie... these are only a few. But I want YOU to leave me a review telling me a few more of these subleties you found! On the subject of reviews, thanks SO much to those who left one last chapter. Authors love reviews, and I'm no exception! So please, if you like my work, or even have a few helpful hints, please do write a few words for me!