"I can't have you," Finnick whispered, pressing a soft, parting kiss to Rose's forehead, "because you'll always be Snows, not mine."
Rhoswen (Rose) Snow is the daughter of President Snow, who rescued her from a homeless, destitute life in District...
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"Shit," Rose muttered, staring at her reflection in the mirror. Her dress was beautiful, it really was, but it was also very, very hard to take off herself. The six of them: Rose, Finnick, Callum, Ying, Augustus, and Madeline had all eaten dinner together. They had spoken about the tributes, going over a few of the real competitive ones.
District one was obvious. Peter and Dara, both careers, both top of their classes. Apparently they had some sort of romance going on, though no one was entirely who Peter was with since he was also seen talking to Reid, another career from district three. Her other tribute, Fang was as terrifying as he sounded. He had a knack for bearing his teeth, his canines awfully sharp. Rose was half sure he had them filed.
The other tributes didn't seem too worrisome...well, Finnick thought they weren't too worrisome. Rose on the other hand was terrified of all of them, even the little girl from district twelve who looked like a subtle breeze could knock her over. She could probably take out Rose in five minutes if she wanted to.
Subsequently...Rose hadn't eaten much at dinner...too amped up on nerves to do more than push around the salad on her plate, though it was better than anything she had ever tasted before. They must've pulled all the stops with tributes because well...they were dying. Every meal for them was like their final meal. They were on death row, might as well get treated like it.
Rose groaned, the sockets of her arms burning as she tried to twist her body in an inhumane way to reach the ties of her corset. Ying had gotten her into it before, but Ying had left after dessert. So now all she could do was try and do it herself, something that she had been failing at for the past twenty minutes.
"Oh fuck me," she whimpered, her fingers just grazing the lace before it slid out of her reach. She'd never get it undone. She'd just have to sleep in the damn dress. Die in the damn dress.
There was a sudden knock at the door. "You called?" a voice asked.
Rose's brows furrowed. "I didn't ask..." She trailed off as his words struck her. "Fuck me," had been the last thing she said.
Rose reached forward and yanked open the door. "You can't be serious."
Finnick Odair leaned against the door frame, a grin lighting up his features. "Deadly." His eyes scanned her body then floated back up to her face. "I didn't know you got so dressed up to take a shower?"
She pursed her lips. "Doesn't everyone wear ballgowns into the bath?"
"I don't know, maybe just your family." He grimaced. "I take that back. Imagining Snow in a dress does weird things to me."
"Okay, I'm closing this door now-"
"Wait." His hand shot out, stopping the door before it could shut. "What do you need? Besides for someone to f-"
Now it was Rose's turn to shoot her hand out. She pressed her hand to his mouth. "Don't finish that sentence, Finnick Odair."
"Well I was going to say fix your dress," he said, voice muffled as his lips worked against her palm. She glared at him and his brows raised. "Feel free to keep yourself here, this is quite the comfortable position."
