𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄 ━━ finnick odair ✓

𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧. ( friendship )

  When I finally meet Johanna at the train station, I feel horribly underprepared. She takes one look at me and scoffs the word "pathetic" before walking away. I don't see her again until we're sitting next to each other for the typical feast.

"You should try the saskatoon berry pie before you go, it's fantastic." She speaks to me for the first time about midway into the meal.

I do try it, and it truly is fantastic. But it leaves me reeling to figure out what she thinks of me.

"Thanks." I nod to her.

"Anything for the sweetheart victor," she gushes sarcastically.

"So they broadcasted that?" I chuckle, remembering my visit with Haymitch in District 12.

"They broadcast every little detail of your life. Faraday this! Faraday that! It's sickening." She bites into a chunk of meat with more force than necessary.

"I bet. Couldn't listen to it myself," I admit.

"You wouldn't. Humility is a core value for you, I bet."

"You enjoyed listening to yours?" I cock an eyebrow at her.

"Well no, but at least I had the decency to be mad about it." She continues eating at a furious pace, red locks of hair hanging precariously above her plate.

"Who says I'm not mad?" I keep my eyes on the camera crew, ensuring I'm not being recorded before continuing. "I just don't go looking for trouble when I know it won't make any difference."

"That's why you won the games. The cool intelligence. You've weighed your options and took the path of least destruction. They're going to love you in the Capitol." Her face has hardened and I can't read any emotion on it anymore.

"I suppose you won't be joining me there, then." I turn back to my own plate.

"Oh no. I'm the selfish type. No chips to bargain with anymore anyway." She lets loose an airy laugh that cuts through the evening haze.

And just like that, my question is answered. With the unspoken agreement to move on, our conversations begin to flow much more easily. She speaks about how long her victory tour felt. Her mentors, Blight and Leela, apparently were in bed at 9:00 every night and expected her to wake at the crack of dawn each morning. She spent her days journaling and taking pictures (photography was her victor's talent).

When I tell her that I spend my days reading, she scoffs. Then, she claims she's become green with envy when I tell her that there's also a good deal of goofing off and even some drinking to be had.

"Finnick can be a pain, but you're lucky to have him," she says, glancing at him dancing with Leela to a slow song.

"I know. I tend to take him for granted." It pains me to say it, but I know it's the truth.

"You two are utter opposites, you know?" She leans back in her chair, fingers laced behind her neck. "Confident and mousey. Forthright and guarded. Powerful and, well, bookish."

I take no issue with her assessment, instead internalizing her words. Perhaps that's why I feel the need to fight him so much. Inherent differences mean that we don't see eye to eye on most things.

"But you know that, don't you? Considering he was your first crush and all." She aims a crooked smile in my direction.

"Eat shit, Mason." I flip her the bird and she feigns innocence, pressing a hand over her heart as if she's been mortally wounded.