fishermansweater: (Good thing we're allies)
Finnick Odair | Victor of the 65th Hunger Games ([personal profile] fishermansweater) wrote in [community profile] sixthiterationlogs 2017-03-13 05:37 pm (UTC)

"Of course I am. What's the point if I don't?"

She'd screamed, and screamed, and fallen to the ground only a little after Glimmer, and he'd been haunted by her face, swollen and deformed with those huge bite wounds, for months afterwards. Still is, sometimes.

He shouldn't be this irritable, not even with Cassian. Especially not with Cassian. With Cassian he needs to play it cool, because Cassian is the man who'd read Finnick like looking at his own bad victor's-talent poetry and seeing the good stuff, the poems the Capitol never got to see.

Would that plant Rue showed Katniss in the Games last year work? Did it even grow here?

It's harder to keep his thoughts clear than it should be, and not because of the proximity of Cassian. Not because his mind's trying to evade having to concentrate on the touch of the man who'd tried to seduce him. It's trying to run off, back to last year's Games, or back to when he'd met Cassian and the fear he'd felt.

He needs the man's help, though. He can feel the venom at work, or maybe it's the memory of Marina's face that's making his skin feel so hot under the needle-pain of the bites. He's in trouble, and that means he's at Cassian's mercy.

His reluctance is obvious, but he takes the man's hand with the hand the insects didn't sting, and lets him help him to his feet.

"Choking me would be too easy."

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