Over the last few weeks, Finnick had developed an excellent sense of when six thirty came. He was always up well before – even years after he'd needed to wake early to go out on the fishing boats, he'd never kicked the habit – but he still wasn't sure quite how he knew that the six thirty lights were about to come on. Didn't change that he knew. He dotted Annie's back with kisses. Finnick would like to think it was a nicer way to be woken up than the bright lights coming on.

Annie sighed and wiggled a bit closer. "You, my friend, are scratchy." Her voice was rough.

"I think you're confused. My beard is rich and luxurious and definitely not scratchy."

Annie rolled over to look at him. He wondered if he'd ever stop being amazed by how beautiful she looked in the morning. Finnick hoped he wouldn't. She smiled at him, and a strand of dark hair fell over her face. "Perhaps I was talking about the mustache."

"Hmm." He rubbed at the offending hair. In all honesty, it was rather scratchy, and as Annie had been too kind to point out, it was wiry and too red to match the rest of his hair. Oh, and he could feel a bare patch just below the right side of his lip that wasn't there on the left. How had he not noticed that one before? "I like it."

"I'd hope you wouldn't keep that thing around if you didn't."

"Is it that bad?"

She studied him for a moment. With anyone else, he would be feeling ants crawling up his legs, his entire body trying to shrivel up closer and closer towards his chest. But this was Annie. He struggled to slow his breathing and heart rate, which had crept up just at the thought of the others. Noticing his anxiety, she took his hand. Next came a shrug. "I'm not going to say it's bad, but it's definitely not good."

Seemed like a kind conclusion. "I'm keeping it."

"You don't need to justify it to me. I really don't care that much one way or the other."

"But if it was up to you, I would shave it off."

"Well, yes." Annie squinted as the lights came on. Even that intermediate setting that Thirteen put on first thing – they waited until 6:45 to put on the really bright ones, how nice of them – was headache-inducing. "Mm, what was I saying? Yeah, I don't really care what you do with your hair. But if you're going to keep that beard, you make sure you grow it out long enough to be soft."

One side of his mouth quirked up in a grin. "Got any particular reason you want my beard soft, Cresta?"

"I can think of one or two."

"Should I give you a demonstration of the reasons that come to my mind?" he asked, his voice low and husky. Finnick crawled over her, kissing Annie in between her giggles.

"I don't think we have time."

"What are they going to do, come in here and force us to stop?"

She pulled his body down against her own. "I think you've got a point there, Odair."