Katniss Everdeen doesn't even like him. That's why he's got the bracelet. She didn't want him as an ally, didn't like him, but wanted Mags. Yet here's Katniss, running across a room to him, hugging him like nobody but Annie has hugged him in a long time, all fierce strength and desperation, holding onto him like a lifeline.
The hug lasts long enough to be uncomfortable, not because of how tight she's holding, or because he doesn't like her or want to watch out for her -- that's all he's trying to do in the arena -- but because the contact is so intense, so sudden, because he barely knows her, because he has so little control over who can touch him and when.
(There'd been a time when Finnick was as free with hugs and touches as anyone, but that was many years ago.)
"Katniss?"
When she pulls back, it's of her own accord, and Finnick has managed not to tense up again only through so many years of schooling himself in pretending to want things and people he loathes.
At least he doesn't loathe Katniss or begrudge her touch, resent her though he might for claiming with Peeta the relationship he's forbidden with Annie all for the sake of strategy in the Games.
What strikes him most, though, is the look on her face, a look of sorrow and loss and uncertainty.
"Sorry for what?" he asks, genuine for a moment before a smile flashes over his features, a smile he doesn't really feel. "Turning down the sugar?"
It's a stupid joke, but it's light, deflecting, something to give him time to think, to assess, because this could get him killed.
There's something deeply, deeply wrong here, not just in seeing Katniss not wearing her tribute's costume, but in how she's acting. He's watched a lot of footage of Katniss Everdeen, and she doesn't hug near-strangers and apologize to them. He was expecting a struggle to even get her to ally with him.
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The hug lasts long enough to be uncomfortable, not because of how tight she's holding, or because he doesn't like her or want to watch out for her -- that's all he's trying to do in the arena -- but because the contact is so intense, so sudden, because he barely knows her, because he has so little control over who can touch him and when.
(There'd been a time when Finnick was as free with hugs and touches as anyone, but that was many years ago.)
"Katniss?"
When she pulls back, it's of her own accord, and Finnick has managed not to tense up again only through so many years of schooling himself in pretending to want things and people he loathes.
At least he doesn't loathe Katniss or begrudge her touch, resent her though he might for claiming with Peeta the relationship he's forbidden with Annie all for the sake of strategy in the Games.
What strikes him most, though, is the look on her face, a look of sorrow and loss and uncertainty.
"Sorry for what?" he asks, genuine for a moment before a smile flashes over his features, a smile he doesn't really feel. "Turning down the sugar?"
It's a stupid joke, but it's light, deflecting, something to give him time to think, to assess, because this could get him killed.
There's something deeply, deeply wrong here, not just in seeing Katniss not wearing her tribute's costume, but in how she's acting. He's watched a lot of footage of Katniss Everdeen, and she doesn't hug near-strangers and apologize to them. He was expecting a struggle to even get her to ally with him.