The Sterling Nightingale ⟷ Finnick Odair/OC

When the sun is only a spark of fire

Chapter Twenty Two | When the sun is only a spark of fire

"Loved that inane fop! Whose thoughts seemed unable to soar beyond the tying of a cravat or the new cut of a coat. Bah! And yet! Vague memories that were sweet and ardent and attuned to this calm summer's evening, came wafted back to her memory, on the invisible wings of the light sea-breeze: the tie when first he worshipped her; he seemed so devoted – a very slave – and there was a certain latent intensity in that love which had fascinated her." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

The final day of training arrives too quickly for anyone's liking. It has been strangely nice, being around the other Victors. Well, perhaps that is an exaggeration. It has been nice being around Finnick and Mags. Sil supposes, in some ways, that there's nothing really strange about that, though.

The schedule for today will be grueling. Training in the afternoon, followed by the private sessions, and finally the main interviews later tonight. Sil is already exhausted just thinking about it. She decides to take a page from some of the other Victor's books and take the day off, as it were. Instead of going to training at seven in the morning, she sleeps in. When she gets up two hours later, she draws a bath.

Gloss has already left for the training center when Sil finally ambles into the kitchen, dressed in a short robe and wearing only underwear beneath. She doesn't expect there to be anyone in the District 1 suite. Of course, Finnick likes to take her by surprise whenever he can. This is how she ends up nearly breaking a glass. Nearly, because her reflexes happen to be extremely good.

She's reaching up to grab a mug from the top cabinet when Finnick's amused voice suddenly says, "Well, I can't say I don't appreciate the view."

Sil gasps. The mug slips from her hands and nearly crashes to the floor, but she twists her wrist at the very last moment and snatches it just inches from the tiles. In the process, her robe slips off her shoulder, revealing one creamy bra strap and making it quite clear (as if it wasn't already) that she is wearing very little in the way of clothing.

Meanwhile, Finnick is gaping at her. Partly because he has never seen someone move that fast, and partly because he can just about see down her robe when she leans over like that. It's mainly the latter. Who can blame him? He is a man, after all.

His mind flashes back to the way she'd felt pressed against him at the archery station. He hadn't needed to step as close as he had, or even guide her all that much. Her stance hadn't been that terrible. But he couldn't help himself; the situation had been far too tempting to pass up.

Heat curls at him, pooling in his stomach as he watches Sil straighten herself out and drag her robe back over her shoulder. He very much wants to tell her to leave it alone, but he figures she wouldn't appreciate him ogling her any more than he already is. Her cheeks are dusted a light pink when she glares at him, placing the mug safely on the counter.

"Finnick Odair – " she begins, voice etched into that threatening tone he rather finds adorable. Her nose scrunches up in telltale anger, green eyes flashing from beneath quite plain lashes. She's not wearing any make-up at all. She looks natural and utterly plain compared to the over the top outfits she usually favors. He likes this new look.

Both hands fly into the air and he takes a step back. "Woah there, sugar. No need to get your panties in a twist. You are wearing those, right?" He winks, extremely amused at the way her cheeks get darker.

"Yes, I – I mean, that's absolutely none of your – what on earth are you doing here, anyway?" she splutters, drawing her robe tighter around her waist. Of course she doesn't realize that her action only makes her slender figure more pronounced, but Finnick decides to keep that information to himself.