The Sterling Nightingale ⟷ Finnick Odair/OC

Which crest my heart and soul

Chapter Nine | Which crest my heart and soul

"I swore to you, once, that my life was yours. For months now it has been your plaything...it has served its purpose." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

Half an hour later, and decked out in a brand new coat, Sil ambles happily beside Finnick on their way to the docks. His jacket has been returned to him, replaced by a thick woolen trench coat that seems a little too subdued for a woman like Silver Lamprey Cornelius. All black, with round silver buttons with mermaids stamped on their surfaces. He thinks she looks rather nice in it, personally. There hadn't been very many options anyhow, at least not as many as she is probably used to.

To call the store a boutique had been a partial lie, really, to lure her into it. He thinks that Silver wouldn't have gone had she known what sort of regular customers the shop gets: humble seafarers looking for a new pair of heavy work gloves or some such thing to get them through the day. But since District 4 has quite a few well known Victors, many people around town call the shop The Boutique as a joke. Sil, at least, looks pleased with the quality of the items – all handmade, he had baited, and look at the price! – and doesn't complain as she loops her arm around his and eagerly pulls him to the docks.

"What sort of boats do you have, Finnick darling? Cruise ships? Motor boats? I've always wanted to ride a motor boat – oh."

Her excitement falls short. This is a dock all right. But there is no motor boat in sight. Only canoes and row boats and a couple big wooden fishing ships. There is nothing glamorous about it.

Finnick hides an amused smile in the collar of his jacket and clears his throat. His expression is clear and charming when Sil turns to look at him, eyes wide and insisting.

"What's wrong? ...Oh dear. You didn't think we'd actually be going out in a motor boat, did you?" he gives her a pouty look just for her benefit and then grins half a moment later, clearly unable to hold it in place. "Don't worry, Silver. Row boats are more romantic anyhow. Come on." Before she can complain – more romantic?! How?! – he's pulling her to one of the little boats and bending over the ropes.

"This is mine. Had her for years now, before my Games even," he tells her, and a part of her peaks in interest. Everybody knows the story of Finnick Odair's Games. They were inspirational to the Capitol. The way he'd been able to charm the audience into sending him a trident – and then trap the other tributes in nets to be speared.

It had been ruthless, more than her Games had been. She hadn't been cruel, only tactical. But Finnick did what he had to do to come out alive and then paid for it, because in the process of winning over every person in the Capitol, he ended up being forced to sell his soul. Yes, she had heard the story. But she wonders what his side of it is. What he'd felt, what he'd thought...just...what he'd done. Is it strange for her to want to know? The circumstances of their union are not ideal, but she finds that she still cares for him as another human being.

"You're thinking," Finnick's voice cuts through her, and Sil is pulled back to the present...and into a pair of light green eyes that seem to see everything she is. She's very glad they don't, really. "That's odd. You're not supposed to know how to do that," he murmurs, half playful half serious, and Sil huffs and rolls her eyes.

"Honestly, Finnick," she mutters, eyeing the boat and then him with a disdainful gaze. "I'm not a dog. And I'm not getting on that tiny rowboat. What would people say?"

He stares at her for a good minute, and then stands up and grabs her elbow, bringing her to the edge of the pier. "It was part of the deal, Silver. I buy you a coat and you go on a boat ride with me. I don't particularly like being around you either, but we have to make this relationship look authentic or Snow isn't going to be happy. Now get in the boat, we'll ride around for a little bit, and I'll bring you home."