"I'm going to get you out of there,"
Finnick's voice was firm, each word sharpened by perseverance.
"How?" the young girl challenged, her tone tinged with desperation.
"You're out here, and I'm trapped in there."
Finnick's eyes swept over her, his...
The dimly lit dining hall was a stark contrast to the turmoil brewing within Andreia. The massive room, with its opulent decor and polished mahogany tables, seemed almost too grand for the small, tense assembly gathered around it.
Finnick engaged in conversation with Mags and Klaus, their voices a muted murmur against the vast space. Andrew and Andreia sat across from each other, a chasm of silence stretching between them. While the others busied themselves with their meal, Andreia's gaze was distant, her mind swirling with unease as Andrew exchanged quiet, furtive words with Kirra.
The enormity of their situation loomed like a dark cloud over the gathering, and Andreia struggled to rein in her wandering thoughts. Her stomach churned with a growing pit as Andrew's eyes briefly met hers, a subtle glance that conveyed unspoken fears. The weight of impending events pressed heavily upon her.
"Are you going to eat?" Finnick's voice cut through her reverie, laced with a mix of concern and exasperation. Andreia shook her head, her voice barely more than a whisper, "I'm not hungry."
Finnick let out a deep sigh, a sound that seemed to echo the frustration of many mentors before him, "You're going to be plenty hungry in the Arena. You should eat while you still have the chance," he advised, his tone both practical and weary. Andreia's resolve hardened, "I don't have an appetite," she stated firmly, her voice steady despite the turmoil within.
Finnick's shoulders sagged in resignation as he glanced briefly at Kirra before standing up. He tapped Andreia gently on the shoulder, a silent invitation to follow him, "Come on," he urged.
Reluctantly, Andreia stood, casting a final, lingering glance at Andrew, who watched her with an inscrutable expression. She trailed behind Finnick through the grand hallway, the opulent surroundings doing little to ease the weight of her dread.
They emerged onto the balcony, where the surrounding darkness seemed to swallow the edges of the city below. Finnick settled onto the floor, his posture relaxed but his expression serious. "Stand or don't; I don't care. Just listen," he said calmly, his voice a stark contrast to the storm of thoughts within Andreia's mind.
Andreia bit her lip, her anxiety manifesting in the nervous twitch of her fingers, "I spoke to Johanna," Finnick began, his eyes meeting hers with an intensity that spoke of unspoken battles, "She's still adjusting to her role as a victor-mentor. She doesn't want her mentees to ally with you."
