The Rehire

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The rest of the week went by, and Katniss refused to talk to (or work with) Finnick.

He wasn't quite sure what it was, but he had a pretty good hunch that she was just sour because he'd done his job so well. Though why she'd thought he would fail in the first place was beyond him. He was Finnick Odair; he did everything perfectly!

It was now Thursday, and Finnick was in one of the pet aisles, taking his time stacking cans of dog food.

A woman passed him by, stopping briefly to stare appraisingly at him, and he took no shame in winking at her. She blushed and walked away, and he smirked as he went back to what he was doing.

Just then, an angry brunette rounded the corner to his aisle, braid flopping this way and that as she stormed up to him.

Katniss.

"Here," she said gruffly, slamming a wad of cash into his chest. "There's your money."

Looking down at the money crushed to his shirt, Finnick took it, fingers brushing over hers as she withdrew her hand. He counted it out.

$200.

"Well thanks, Fire Girl. Didn't think you had it in you," he said, putting the cash in his back pocket.

Her eyebrows came together. "Have what in me?" She asked, confused. "The money? Because you know I make exactly the same amount as you do."

"Oh, no," he said dismissively, waving a hand. "I meant admitting defeat. You didn't think I could pull it off." He smiled triumphantly down at her, and she scowled.

"Well good, then you should be able to pull it off again," she said, and his expression faltered.

"Again?" He echoed.

Finnick Odair did not do 'agains'.

"Yeah," she said. "Thanksgiving's coming up and they'll expect you to be there."

At his uneasy expression, she attempted to console him.

"Look, I'll pay you for your time just like before. But until then, just go about your day and do...whoever it is you do," she said, face scrunching in disgust.

"Yessir!" Finnick said happily, raising a hand to salute her.

Katniss rolled her eyes and walked back the way she came, leaving him to finish his work.

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