Annie stares at him, unsure for a long moment if the man is even real. She only met him a couple of times; but no, those times were seared into her memory. As was Snow's particular smell, and her nose - used to having to note the scent of spoiling fish - never lies.

She's cold. So cold, like an ice-sheet has sliced down from head to toe, chilling her insides until they are frostbit, and for a long moment, she can't even breathe.

Then she can.

Keep playing, Finnick has whispered to her over the years, but from somewhere in her mind comes an addition in her own voice, maybe we change the game.

"I. I. Act-actually, Mr Snow, that was...very rudeofyou."

Her voice is a choppy thing, like waves in rough weather, and her body isn't exactly feeling real, but then she starts to giggle.

What's the worst can he do to her now?