She goes still. It should be impossible, given her state of locked joints and frozen terror, but the sound of Finnick's voice and the sense of him here, by her side, lets her body relax enough to the softened state of stillness. She's thinking, rather than petrified.

"Thank you," Annie manages, swallowing. She glances at him, a furtive little look that doesn't last long.

She has to keep watch. It'd be a dereliction of her duty not to watch, you don't fall asleep in the wheelhouse or there is hell to pay and the boat runs aground, or slams into a wave wrong and all that water comes crashing down. All hands lost.

She moistens her lips.

"I-"

She wants to shut her eyes, but she can't. That'd mean she isn't watching.

"Help?"