𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄 ━━ finnick odair ✓

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲-𝐟𝐢𝐯𝐞. ( a birthday present )

   Not ten hours later, I receive my next assignment. Vey Weir. 4:00 pm. #12 Orchard Drive. Special instructions: tribute uniform. This request is followed by five others, all within the next twenty-four hours. This time I don't drop the tablet or vomit. I don't feel much of anything at all. The people around me do the job of feeling it just fine, so I don't feel particularly compelled to care.

"Disgusting prick, Weir. Every year that we get a new recruit, it's the same thing. Usually not until a couple of weeks in, though, this is a new low." Gloss reacts crudely when he takes the tablet from Cashmere to read.

"I ought to have a conversation with Garnette about scheduling. She usually keeps a close eye on managing the rookies. This can't be right," Cashmere exits the room swiftly.

Garnette is the victor pimp, I remember this much from Cashmere's blunt lessons on the train. I struggle to recall much more than that she's Capitol born, but not inherently cruel. The only other information that I can summon about her is that she responds best to flattery.

A clatter to my left is followed by sharp cursing. Finnick rises from his newly ruined chess match with Grant Opal and excuses himself to the bathroom. Grant looks startled, but recovers quickly, stooping down to pick up the chess pieces Finnick swept onto the floor in his outburst. After setting my book on a side table I quickly rise to help him, earning a lopsided smile from the blond haired boy once the pieces are all back in place.

"He'll be fine," Ronan says, waving me back from my path in pursuit of Finnick.

"Just needs a moment," agrees Blight.

At their urging, I return to the plush armchair I'd been sitting in.

After staying true to his word about escorting me to the medical wing in the morning, Finnick had denied my request to return back to my room. When I told him I just wanted to be alone, he told me it wasn't what I needed. So I allowed him to drag me to breakfast in the victors lounge. Cashmere and Gloss were there when we entered, thankfully both abstained from asking about how my night had gone. We were joined shortly by the remaining members of their group who also followed the same path of discretion. It wasn't until Cashmere decided to teach me to read my schedule on the tablet that the topic of prostitution ever broached the room.

The company was comforting at first, but now I feel horribly surrounded. Without Finnick here, I feel that I have no tie to these people. There's no common link anymore. I'm the imposter. Just as I rise to leave, I'm once again stopped short.

"You shouldn't have to go to your prep team for another few hours. What's the rush?" Gloss addresses me directly, yet appears entirely lackadaisical.

"I was just going to head to my room," I say, hoping he won't make a spectacle of it.

"You don't want to be alone right now, trust me." Grant shakes his head fiercely.

I meet the piercing blue eyes of the young victor and nod my acknowledgment. His sentiment parrots Finnick's directly, perhaps I should listen. They've all been in this position too, after all, some longer than others. Ronan and Blight have surely been doing this since before I was born. I wonder if they still remember the first time.

"I would have killed for some company in the beginning," Ronan says, almost as if he's heard my thoughts.

"He's lucky I came along next year," Blight chimes in..

"And I was fortunate enough to have Ronan as my mentor. Cashmere and I both," Gloss puts in. "Don't run off."

Their simultaneous admissions leave me feeling rather touched. They barely know me, but each is willing to offer the comfort of fellowship.