"Why do they think we can trust him? What makes them think he won't crawl back to the Capitol the second it looks like they're going to win?" Finnick finished another knot, trying not to hear the man in the other room.
Another man answered. "He took care of Katniss in the Arena. That should be enough for you." Haymitch. He wondered how sorry of a state he must be in if the Twelve victor felt the need to defend him. Curious, he looked down at his rope again. A quick estimate told him it would be an inch or two too short to make a proper noose. A very sorry state indeed, then. "I've known Finnick for years, all right, kid? He's got more reason to hate them than you know."
"So the entire Rebellion is supposed to trust him because you do?" The disgust was obvious in his voice.
"You're not the one making the decisions here. That's up to Coin and Plutarch. They decided to pull him out of that Arena and bring him here, and if you don't like that, Hawthorne, you can bring it up with them." Finnick knew he should say something to back up Haymitch, but he could not muster the strength and energy to defend himself.
"He's a bigger liability than he is an asset. Odair knows everyone close to Snow – fuck, he's slept with half of them – and who's to say he won't go back if he thinks it'll benefit him? He's always been happy to take their money or influence or whatever it is they give him." That's what they all think of you. He couldn't really blame the man - no, Hawthorne, whoever he was - for that. Sometimes, Finnick thought it himself. Would they still like him as much if he didn't ask them for secrets, if they knew how much he hated all of them?
"Again, you bring that up with Coin and see how far it gets you. Now, you go see your girlfriend and get out of here. I want you gone by the time I'm done." Finnick heard footsteps near his door, but even before the sound faded, he had let go of any hurt he'd felt at Hawthorne's words, his thoughts again consumed by his worry for Annie.