FAILURE TO COMPLY ┃ f. odair

2.5 silver suits you, silva

Cafes in the Capitol were some of the worst places Calypso had ever been to. While everyone around her was dressed in their best couture as if it were a special event, she had chosen a rather dull and depressing navy blue jumper paired with navy blue jeans. A splash of luxury came in the form of her silver and gold jewellery - a gift from Vega - but not nearly enough to stop wayward eyes from straying towards her. Her chosen beverage was something pink she could hardly remember the name of, at the recommendation of the woman at the counter who'd been far too overwhelming to say no to.

Opposite her, Finnick Odair had made himself comfortable. More appropriately, he wore a sparkling dark orange shirt that opened enough to expose his chest. He didn't have a drink, nor did he order one when he'd arrived just a few minutes ago. She'd offered him a quiet smile, but he found it funny to ignore her, evidenced by the grin playing on his lips. He was terrible at hiding his mischievous smiles.

"Hello Finnick..." Calypso caved and properly greeted the man. It was as if he were a powered puppet, coming to life at her words.

"You stick out like a sore thumb," he pointed out, eyes taking a tour of her figure from dark hair to dark boots. "You know, I heard talk you were here from up the street, but I could see you from a mile away anyway."

"I'm not staying long," she explained. "I have an appointment in the city, then I'll be back in Five. Why are you here?"

"Here on business," Finnick replied bluntly. The answer was almost defensive, and it was an excuse Calypso had heard from him before.

"You said that when we met in the elevator, when you asked me to protect Maisie," she observed. "You said you were 'on business' then too."

"Because I was," he insisted with a shrug. "What's your appointment?"

A double standard, she thought, for him to brush off his own reasoning and yet ask for more detail on hers. Maybe he was just making conversation, maybe he was interested, maybe he was trying to hide his secrets. She tried to ignore it because it wasn't her place to know.

"The Capitol offered me a new arm after they indirectly took my last one," she replied, holding up her left arm where her forearm and hand were missing. The skin had healed fully now, leaving a smooth but tight rounded surface with only a forked scar where they'd sewn her up. "Well, technically it was self-inflicted, but I feel fine blaming them."

"Careful what you say out here, Silva," Finnick sarcastically chided. "The Capitol's kindness only extends as far as your obedience. Pull too hard at your leash and they'll put you in a cage."

"I'm not a dog," she retorted. "Sounds like you're all too familiar with being their perfect puppy, though."

"I am," he said, and his voice had far too much seriousness in it for her to be comfortable with. "And trust me, it's better to be their obedient pet than the alternative where you get muzzled."

Muzzled. A horrific word with what came to Calypso's mind: her mother, stood in the tribute centre with distant eyes and a missing tongue. Her mother, dead and cold and blue, and strung up above the gates of their home.

"I have a surgery today," she opted to say, leaving the talk of defiance behind. "They're giving me a prosthetic arm. I'm due at the hospital any minute now, so I should get going."

"Typical of you to leave whenever I show up," Finnick faked offence as his new friend stood from her chair, leaving the pink drink behind. The roll of her eyes paired with a poorly hidden smile did not go amiss. "You avoiding me?"

"No," she lied. "I really do have to go. I'll see you later, Finnick."

But Finnick had dealt with many liars in his time, and even if Calypso was a fairly good one, she couldn't hide her truths from him.