Another time, another place, Annie would be grateful for someone standing up for her. Someone actively intervening who isn't Finnick. A little suspicious, but grateful. Now, the red stain on her cheeks is from embarrassment, because she's fairly sure that Agatha didn't mean anything by her previous enthusiasm and Finnick can be...awful, when he's like this, no matter that it's on purpose.

She presses her boot against his under the table, gives them both an awkward and smile, and falters.

"I think, um, I wouldn't want to-to make a fuss, so I can," she stumbles a bit to her feet, accidentally knocking her glass of lemonade into a dangerous rock before she catches it. Some spills over her hand, and she tries to ignore the urge to lick it off.

"I can go, uh, I hope your...coffee works out," she says to Agatha before her eyes dart to Finnick.