Thank you to everyone who subscribed and to the couple of people who have already added it to their favourites – I'm glad you enjoyed the first chapter. And of course to LilyBug95 for reviewing – your feedback and encouragement prompted me to continue as soon as I could so this one's for you.
"The girl," Mags' slurred to Annie and pointed to herself. Annie had always mentored the girl tribute and Mags' had the boy largely due to the fact that all of their male tributes could barely walk straight let alone train when Annie was in the room with them. But Annie knew that there was something about the Cartwright girl – maybe it was the high cheekbones, large eyes or just youthfulness in itself that reminded Mags of the freshly reaped Annie.
"Fine," Annie said pouring vodka into her glass as the train roared to life. "But don't blame me when the guy gets butchered to pieces because he was too busy drooling and getting handsy with me instead of training."
Mags looked sadly at Annie who gingerly added a twist of lime to her drink and then threw it back. Annie was a shell of her previously innocent and kind self. Now she was a cynical and contemptuous Capitol whore who speared nine children to death with a trident and mocked those who faced certain death.
When they walked into the compartment where the doomed pair where waiting, Annie pondered for a moment that she wouldn't mind if her tribute would like to get handsy with her. Up close, Finnick Odair was rather striking. He was much more muscular than his slender form from a distance let on. His bronze hair stuck up in a number of directions and shone in a summery haze of blonde, brown and copper but was incomparable to his kind smile and liquid green eyes that glimmered in the passing sunlight. Annie immediately felt slightly irked that those sparkling emerald gems weren't fixated on her the second she had entered the room. He was preoccupied playing some kind of game with the female tribute. He had his palms extended to her facing upwards and quickly darted them away over and over as she tried to slap at them, grinning widely and laughing. Annie recalled seeing children play stupid games like these when she had the relief of returning to her district for a few short weeks – sometimes days – before she was dragged back to the demanding beds of the Capitol.
Annie cleared her throat and the pair looked up at the mentors. Finnick stood up immediately when he saw the two women. His startled eyes, staring at her for the first time, pierced right through Annie and made her mouth become uncomfortably dry. She cleared her throat again – the vodka had probably dehydrated her.
"I'm Annie Cresta, as you know of course," she gave them her trademark winning smile. "This is Mags. We'll be your mentors. Mags will be training you," she said to Rosalie and then turned to the boy. "And I get you."
She had meant to sound flirtatious and daring but Finnick just nodded and turned to see if the little girl was okay with that arrangement. An inexplicable anger flared up inside Annie and she wondered whether Finnick Odair knew how many men who happily die in the Hunger Games if they had a week's worth of her undivided attention.
"I'm Finnick, and this is Rosalie," he said politely.
Something about his interesting name and startling eyes had been bothering Annie – she had been certain she had seen him before but the way he spoke brought back the memory of where she had met this Finnick. He sold jewellery and other small treasures at the market or along the beach that he made himself.
"How much for this one?" Annie asked as she held the sea glass bracelet to the sun, watching the facets glitter in the light. It reminded her painfully of her mother who had bought one of this boy's necklaces and given it to Annie as her token.
The boy whipped around, startled by her presence. She was on her Victory Tour and her survival instinct of walking silently hadn't dissipated. The boy with the bronze hair was about to reply when he glanced up at her and his lips fell open a little. Annie was used to this. She had attracted some attention before she was reaped being an incredibly attractive and distracting girl – now that she was famous and everywhere she went there were people gaping at her, congratulating her and cheering her on – it had intensified unpleasantly.
Annie just smiled patiently at him as he gathered his thoughts.
"Nothing, nothing for you. Take it."
She frowned slightly. She had more money than she knew what to do with and she didn't know what this boy's intentions were whether it be to impress her or show his adoration but by the looks of his attire and the fact he was fourteen and not in school, he could use every penny.
"No, I insist," she said pulling out the money she had in her dress pocket which was nothing but spare change for her but could feed a family for a month.
He just waved it away. "No, miss, please, I…I would very much like you to have it."
Annie sighed and stuffed it back in her pocket. "You're a terrible tradesperson," she told him and let him wrap the bracelet in paper. "I'm Annie Cresta."
He knew this, of course. "Finnick," he handed her the bracelet. "Welcome home, Miss Cresta."
Annie looked taken aback as she took the package. He didn't congratulate her, gush about her victory or pour over how inspirational and glorious she was. It was…nice, though.
"Thank you," she said politely and mechanically as she had practised for the tour but it just sounded fake and fabricated like she was a product of the Capitol. "I'm proud to have represented District Four."
"I'm very sorry you had to," he said looking at her straight in her eyes now and she could see his swimming with sadness and…pity?
Annie was glad she had decided to sneak off and walk along the beach by herself, without her crew, as statements like that would get this boy killed. She wasn't sure whether she was annoyed or relieved that this was the first person who hadn't doted on her performance of killing children and instead of idolising them looked at her as if he could see past all that makeup and note cards to how she really felt about the Hunger Games but it needn't matter as she had forgotten about it by the next morning.
After dinner when they had long retired to bed, Annie was wandering around the train in barefeet, sipping from her oversized glass of red wine . Desperately evading sleep – the nightmares mainly. For some reason her feet took her to the boys room. The infuriatingly kind boy who called her "Miss Cresta" and ignored or remained completely oblivious to her charms. As she suspected, he was awake.
"That boy you volunteered for," she said, leaning against the open door of his bedroom. He looked up surprised, from whatever small bit of string he was fiddling with on his bed. "Was he your brother or something?"
"I'm sorry, Miss Cresta?" Finnick asked and he buttoned up his open shirt as he saw her but not before she could notice he was quite muscled and tanned. Not the kind she was used to in the Capitol that was achieved from expensive gym equipment and tanning sprays – the sort of body defined by hard work. It was infinitely more appealing.
He was looking particularly doe-eyed and sweet in his sleepy state with his hair even more dishevelled than usual. She, of course, looked appropriately lively and manicured in her lacy nightgown, a gift from one of her lovers, that left little to the imagination but his eyes never drifted from her face. It annoyed her. His obvious lack of interest in her sexually. Not that she wanted him particularly but it was unnerving given her control over other men and women in the Capitol who leered at her in even the most modest of outfits.
"Did you know that boy?" she said plainly, drumming her fingers against the wood and swilling her wine.
"Only a little, he shines shoes at the market square," he told her fiddling with the piece of string he'd managed to rummage out of somewhere. "His mother asked that I make his token."
He was clearly very shy but not in the way Annie desired him to be. Annie stepped further into the room, knowing it was wrong but unable to help herself. It made been so long since she had come across someone who she wasn't able to figure out their intentions, desires and thoughts nearly immediately. She was bored and Finnick Odair was deliciously too different to ignore.
"For someone who is apparently against the Hunger Games," she mused, sipping on her wine as she knelt on to the bed. "You don't seem to have a problem marketing it in your business."
His eyes widened slightly and his lips twisted in disgust. "I don't accept anything for the tokens, Miss Cresta," Finnick said shaking his head and looking positively scandalised and saddened she would assume such voracity from him. "Parent's tell me about their child and I…make them their token, you know, just…"
"Just in case," Annie finished for him. She imagined this boy sailing out early in the morning or late at night to find gems, shells and glass, risking being whipped by Peacekeepers for stealing sea treasures, to craft these personalised tokens for each child. He was fascinating.
Annie touched her token – the necklace her parents had given to her during their goodbyes in the Justice Building four years ago. It was breath-takingly beautiful and she, being from a moderately well off family, hadn't at the time felt bad but now she imagined struggling Finnick refusing payment with who knows how many family members staying up into the early hours of the morning threading together these pieces. She genuinely felt sad that he was probably going to die.
"You made mine," she said though he probably remembered as she realised it was the only token he'd made that had returned. Annie wondered if he felt as sad as she did when the District Four tributes were slaughtered each year. "The turquoise necklace."
Finnick hesitantly reached his fingers out to her chest where her necklace was but did not touch her. "It's a Chryscolla, actually," he said, smiling. "Far more beautiful than a turquoise. It's more the colour of your eyes than the turquoise was." His fingers traced the air in front of her necklace as he expertly went through the different shells, knots and gems used and she wondered what his fingers would feel like on her skin. It was more talking than he had done on the whole train ride so far, so this was something he was clearly ardent about. His passion made her inch closer to him, totally captivated and at the same time annoyed he was more passionate about this necklace than the half naked gorgeous woman facing him.
Even though her breasts were barely hidden by the lace of her night gown, his eyes remained dedicated on her necklace and it frustrated her further. She leaned forward, closer to him than she knew he would be comfortable with. He stopped talking, his face blushing brilliantly but did not lean back – probably at the risk of appearing offensive. Modesty, Annie thought. It was refreshing after years of the over sexualised Capitol who relished in nudity and shamelessness. She breathed him in and he smelled like vanilla, sandalwood and sea salt…like home. Annie, who had been forced to sleep with half the Capitol, had never been with a District Four person before. Or anybody who wasn't acquiring her body through Snow like it was a Capitol play thing.
Annie may have been of breathtaking beauty but she certainly felt disgusting, tainted and used. It was probably the effects of the alcohol that was supplied in such generous quantities on the train ride but she wondered briefly what it would be like to tangle her fingers in Finnick's bronze hair, suck delicately on his soft looking lips that spoke such pure words and imagined how gentle his touch would be in comparison to the cruel, greedy and forceful hands that were usually pressed all over her body.
Finnick's eyes finally appraised her scanty attire and although his face was still flushed, the words that tumbled clumsily from his lips where not what Annie was expecting.
"Would…would you like one of the shirts from my cupboard? They have lots of them in here," he offered. "You shouldn't get cold."
Annie froze at his words, at the sincerity of them and his genuine worry of her discomfort. Finnick was good in every sense of the word and here she was imagining taking him right now like she was some common Capitol predator. Flirting was first nature to her but she was stupid to ever let it get any further than that, even if for her own benefit…this boy was being sent to his execution after all. Annie chalked it down to the alcohol again, which may not be too far off since she stumbled slightly as she hopped off the end of his bed. Finnick moved to help her but she straightened up quickly.
"Thanks but I'm going to sleep anyway," she said looking unphased as she looked at her reflection in the wine glass. She didn't look as shaken as she felt. "I probably won't able to do much sleeping when we get to the Capitol," she winked at him and he stared at her like he was missing something. Annie realised Finnick probably didn't keep up with Capitol gossip in the news and the papers and was secretly thankful. At least he wouldn't find her repulsive for a few more days at the least.
"Would you like me to walk you to your room, Miss Cresta?" He looked at her slightly inebriated state.
Annie scoffed to hide her pleasure at his kind request. "At least take me to dinner first, honey. But no, I'm right next to you and I think I can handle the journey just fine. And call me Annie. You should sleep as well, we're arriving tomorrow morning and I don't want you looking like a half dead sea siren when they see you for the first time."
"Okay, I will," Finnick said putting his half finished project on the bedside table. "Thank you for coming."
"Don't mention it," she said closing his door behind her. "'Night."
"Goodnight, Miss Cresta."
Annie collapsed on her bed feeling exhausted enough for her to hope the nightmares could be kept to a minimum. A bubble of dread started to form in her abdomen and she wasn't sure whether it was returning to the Capitol tomorrow where her arrival would be eagerly awaited by her lovers or what Finnick, who was so annoyingly polite and genuinely appreciated her company, would think when he saw her floozying around with a new person each evening. Annie pushed this to the back of her mind as she rolled over to finally put her head to rest. It shouldn't matter what some poor, trinket-peddling boy thought of her so why did it bother her so much?