Okay, it might be a lot unjust, but Finnick can't help the wickedly teasing smile that creeps over his face at Haymitch's annoyance. He knows why Haymitch drinks, just like he knows why some victors drown themselves in morphling, or whatever other poison they choose for themselves. But the easy smile like he's laughing at the world is as much a part of Finnick's poison as alcohol is Haymitch's.
"Look at this. Haymitch Abernathy, stuck in a bar with no booze."
Finnick saunters up to the bar and gives a wide, toothy smile to Haymitch as he leans one elbow on the counter top.
No sign of anything here between them but the mocking disdain so many of the victors have always shown towards Haymitch.
"This must be some special kind of hell for you, right?" he says, with a mock-thoughtful expression, though his voice is carrying a suggestion of laughter.
Never mind that Finnick, too, is without the characteristic vice in which he famously indulges every time he's in the Capitol: a wealthy woman on his arm.
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Okay, it might be a lot unjust, but Finnick can't help the wickedly teasing smile that creeps over his face at Haymitch's annoyance. He knows why Haymitch drinks, just like he knows why some victors drown themselves in morphling, or whatever other poison they choose for themselves. But the easy smile like he's laughing at the world is as much a part of Finnick's poison as alcohol is Haymitch's.
"Look at this. Haymitch Abernathy, stuck in a bar with no booze."
Finnick saunters up to the bar and gives a wide, toothy smile to Haymitch as he leans one elbow on the counter top.
No sign of anything here between them but the mocking disdain so many of the victors have always shown towards Haymitch.
"This must be some special kind of hell for you, right?" he says, with a mock-thoughtful expression, though his voice is carrying a suggestion of laughter.
Never mind that Finnick, too, is without the characteristic vice in which he famously indulges every time he's in the Capitol: a wealthy woman on his arm.