As a victor, Finnick had been something of a special case in Panem. He'd been rich, famous, popular in his district and the Capitol, bringing something of the charm of the districts to the Capitol and the sophistication of the Capitol to his district. Or so they said; he hadn't thought there was anything charming about working yourself to death trying to meet a fishing quota, or anything sophisticated about exploiting the poor.

One thing he hadn't been was an expert. He could fish well enough, he could wield a trident to impress the Capitol, but nobody from District Four would have turned to him for help with something like this, because the life of a victor excused him from the lifetime's work that gave the old fisherfolk their expertise. So it's flattering, in a sincere way he's not used to, to be asked for help based purely on something he and Annie achieved.

Finnick stops just beside Beverly and watches as she points out what she's done and where she thinks the fence will go.

"We worked out it was best to start with the fence posts. Maybe three or four big ones over that area," he continues, gesturing to show her where he means, "then some smaller ones in between. The big ones sort of anchor it and you weave around the smaller ones."

He smiles. "Should keep any geese wandering by out of your garden."