ψ they never see it coming, what I do next | CLOSED

[fishermansweater]

WHO: Finnick Odair
WHERE: House #57, South Village
WHEN: December 21
OPEN TO: Annie Cresta
WARNINGS: References to sexual slavery and child murder, basically

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"Annie?"

When Finnick comes out of the house to find his wife, it's apparent that something's shaken him. He's often good at maintaining his composure, covering the things that bother him behind wit and flirtation. He hasn't had to do that around Annie for a long time; sometimes, he falls back into those habits, but it's not a way of protecting himself from her like it is with almost everybody else.

Now, he's not even trying. His face is drawn, shadowed around the eyes. There's a sharp tension carried in his shoulders, like it is for so many victors, more apparent than it often is for sensual, slinking Finnick. The little dog trots out of the house after him, but even Coco seems to realize something's wrong, his stubby little tail down rather than wagging.

There'd been a countdown on his wrist communicator when he'd looked at it this morning, and countdowns make him think of the arena, and the countdown to the bloodbath each year. To watching children he'd mentored die. And after that, he'd found a message, a message that seemed to come from himself. Or to feature himself, talking about things that he's never spoken to anyone about.

"Annie? Are you out here?"