𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄 ━━ finnick odair ✓

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐞. ( anticipation )

  1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 , 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 24, 26, 27, 28, 29. Turn

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 , 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 24, 26, 27, 28, 29. Turn

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 , 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18, 19, 20, 21, 22, 23, 24, 24, 26, 27, 28, 29. Turn

The room is 29 even steps across. What a horribly unsatisfying number.

29 steps averaging just over one foot per step. The room is perhaps 8 meters across, or 8.75 yards, or 8000 millimeters, or 800 centimeters, or 0.005 miles, or 0.008 kilometers.

Those numbers are better. Much better than 29. The only problem is that I can't count in millimeters, I can only count my paces, and it's stopped bringing me any comfort whatsoever anyway.

I sit on the edge of the bed in my long awaited room in the tower. Never before has it felt like such a prison, even in my time before entering the arena. A prison 64 square meters in area, or 689 square feet.

How big will Seneca Crane's bedroom be? The thought intrudes viciously. It feels nearly necessary to admonish myself for the rude sabotage of my attempt at comfort.

I head to the bathroom to wash my face in the sink, hoping to draw away any remaining shards of unrest. Instead, I end up staring into the perfectly polished mirror above the counter. The circles under my eyes are the first thing I notice, they demand attention. Their brashness makes the rest of my face look sallow and sickly. Pale in a way I've never been pale before.

If only I could just fall asleep. Perhaps it would give me the wherewithal to deal with my scenario. I tried at first, but as the time switched from 2:00 to 3:00, then from 3:00 to 4:00, I realized laying in bed hoping for sleep was fruitless. So I took to pacing instead.

At nearly 5:00, a welcome distraction comes in the form of a visitor. Cashmere is dressed all in black with her usual elegant formal gloves on. She looks gorgeous.

"I just got home but wasn't tired, figured you wouldn't be either. Do you mind having some company?"

I'm not fooled by her words. She just wants to check in on me. I invite her in regardless. She takes a seat at the desk chair, making a show of relaxation, rubbing feet that must be sore from a night in heels.

"Would you like anything to drink?" I ask, remembering from my lessons with Finnick in District 4 that that's the polite way to welcome a guest.

"I'll take some water." She grins her thanks.

I oblige, happy to have something to do with my hands. After we've both settled back into seating positions and she's taken a hearty pull from her glass, she moves to fill the silence again.

"It'll be nice having another woman around," she comments lightly.

"Do you not spend time with the others much?" I ask, not really bothering to care if it's rude to do so.

"Gaia, Enobaria, and Cecilia spend most of their free time together. To be quite up front, they can be a bit brash at the best of times. Unbearable at the worst. I spend most of my time in Finnick and Gloss's little group. It's much easier to come home to comedy and camaraderie than outrage and jealousy sometimes, even if the boys do lack any femanine touch." She examines her fingernails with disgust.

Doubt prickles in my stomach amid the general discomfort. What if I'm not wanted in any of the groups? I feel like such a child in comparison to Cashmere, would she really enjoy spending time around me? It makes me a bit dizzy to keep thinking about it, so I decide to change the subject.