FAILURE TO COMPLY ┃ f. odair

1.8 unity

Calypso had been quietly scolded by most of her team after her borderline rebellious statements during her interview. She was tired, and hardly wanted to listen to the irritated voices of her loved ones, nor did she want Payton's scrutinising eyes on her. That was how she'd ended up alone once they'd entered the Tribute Centre again, remaining in the large lobby while the rest of them had already gone up. The doors were locked. She was trapped. Yet, she felt freer being alone than she did people with any of the people she knew up in their apartment.

It was late by the time she decided to retreat to the safety of her own room. Even with how necessary it was, the idea of eating anything made her feel nauseous, and the idea of have to face anybody made her feel worse.

Which was why Finnick Odair had terrible timing.

Calypso was already in the elevator when his hand flew between the doors to stop them from closing. Silence. The pair didn't greet each other, staring forward in awkward silence as they began to move upwards. She dared to peek at the young man from the corner of her eye, only for him to already be looking at her. She looked away.

"Something wrong?" he questioned, leaning closer so that his breath made a few of her hairs fly free.

"No."

"You just cringed when you looked at me," he badgered, a light chuckle in his voice. Calypso tried to ignore him. "Is there something on my face? Do you not like my outfit?"

She really didn't like it, but she didn't want to be rude. However, it seemed Finnick already knew he wouldn't get a good answer, because he was grinning cheekily down at her. The suit he wore was the vibrant colour of the danger signs found around District Five, paired with a red shirt and darker red shoes. It was Capitol fashion. She wondered if he'd even chosen it himself.

"I hate the colour yellow," she said simply.

"Your hair is yellow," he pointed out. His fingers reached to twirl the strands of hair that had fallen free, but the action lasted less than a second after she pulled back. This was the way of the famous Finnick Odair: flirtatious and teasing, but apparently enough of a gentleman to not overstep boundaries.

"It's blonde. Like yours."

"Aw," he cooed quietly. "We're matching."

"Funny," Calypso sighed, keeping her gaze facing forward. "How come you didn't come back with Maisie? The interviews ended two hours ago."

"I had business to attend to elsewhere," Finnick replied with just a hint of coldness in his voice now. It faded before he'd even finished talking, almost fast enough that she hadn't picked up on it. But she had.

"Right."

"You look great, by the way," he continued, the warmth and playfulness returned. "Ironic that your stylist made you look heavensent when you're about to become a killer."

"Is there a reason you're talking to me?" she questioned.

"Yeah," he laid it out simply. Finnick let a moment of silence fill the elevator, and then spoke more sincerely. "You're my sister's ally. I need to make sure you're not gonna stab her in the back."

"No," she answered honestly. "I won't."

"Words don't mean much in an arena," the man all but scoffed. His body was now turned to face her fully, and Calypso couldn't help but turn her head towards him. "I know you have a heart. She's told me you're a good person and I believe her. So help me help her."

"Are you asking me to die for her?" she asked openly. Finnick was quiet, but the downturned twitch of his lips said all she needed to hear. "You're asking me to die."