The Sterling Nightingale ⟷ Finnick Odair/OC

Endlessly

Chapter Forty One | Endlessly

"Deep down in her heart she had always vaguely felt that his foolish inanities, his empty laugh, his lazy nonchalance were nothing but a mask that the real man, strong, passionate, willful, was there still – the man she had loved, whose intensity had fascinated her, whose personality attracted her, since she always felt that behind his apparently slow wits there was a certain something which he kept hidden from all the world, and most especially from her." Emma Orczy, The Scarlet Pimpernel

President Coin is in a meeting, but that doesn't stop Finnick from barging in despite the way the guards at the door attempt to stop him. The moment the door is thrown open, all voices within the room halt immediately, and Finnick steps inside without bothering to ask for permission. He is past the point of caring. He wants answers.

An older woman with severe, straight silver hair turns to appraise him with a raised brow. She must be the president of this wayward rebel district. Finnick knows power when he sees it. It's suffocated him long enough for him to spot easily enough. Plutarch Heavensbee is also in attendance, as well as Haymitch Abernathy and a few other people Finnick has never seen before. All of them stand up at his entrance, looking a little shocked and a little offended simultaneously. Only Haymitch looks unsurprised as he rolls his eyes at his entrance and remains sitting.

"...You must be Finnick Odair, Victor of the 65th Hunger Games. Come, take a seat," the president says by way of greeting. She sounds neither annoyed nor taken aback at his brusque appearance in her private meeting, and gestures to an open chair with a pensive expression on her face as if she's been expecting him all this time.

Finnick doesn't move until Haymitch catches his eye and gives him a look. The look is so impatient that Finnick sighs and approaches the chair without any further hesitation.

"We've been awaiting your arrival for several weeks," Coin says, leaning back in her seat and resting her hands atop the gleaming metal tabletop that they are all occupying. Her fingers thread together and her eyes seem to stare right though him.

Her words make Finnick pause and scrub at his face. Instead of responding to them, though, or asking about these plans that have apparently been in the making for weeks without his knowledge, he asks, "Who is the Sterling Nightingale?"

He needs confirmation. A straight forward answer. No more cloak and dagger, no more hiding in the shadows. He catches the president's eye with blazing determination and she hums.

"I do believe you already know," she muses, studying his face and the tense set of his shoulders. "Is this why you interrupted our meeting? To ask me what you're already aware of?"

Across the table, Haymitch crosses his arms with a sigh and turns his gaze to the ceiling, looking bored.

Finnick spares him a glance and drawls, "I was under the impression that the Nightingale was a man, and that he makes a living breaking people out of the Capitol. Am I wrong?"

Coin looks amused by this. Her lips form a thin line that appears to be hiding a smile and she responds breezily, "It seems your impressions of the Nightingale are based exclusively on Capitol propaganda, Mr. Odair. Our Nightingale isn't simply a jailbreaker; she's a spy. And she's not a man either, for that matter. Do you have any further questions?"

The tone of her voice is almost sarcastic, shrouded just so in a professional light that makes it sound skewed. Finnick clenches his jaw.

"I have so many questions I don't know where to start," he mutters. Haymitch sighs again and this time, Finnick spears him with a glare.