𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄 ━━ finnick odair ✓

𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐧. ( development )

The star-crossed lovers from District 12 are making our jobs easier than they've ever been. In the midst of the craze of romance that has suddenly hit the Capitol, people are less interested in buying prostitutes than ever before. Usually within the first few days of the actual Hunger Games, demand hits a peak. Bored elites turn to buying sex instead of sponsorships. The strain is carried primarily by the non-mentor victors who aren't given any leeway in terms of time. This year, clients who used to make weekly bookings have now dropped their rotation entirely in favor of finding the one .

Unfortunately, that break doesn't extend to the one who needs it the most. Grant was born into the unfortunate reality that he looks a bit like Peeta Mellark. The blond hair and blue eyes are just enough to ensure that he's the logical alternative to the boy they can't yet have. His stylist even cropped his hair to the same length as the District 12 tribute. They can't do much about the fact that Grant is considerably taller and thinner, but they make their best effort by sending him out in clothing that adds definition where he has none.

I've seen him wander listlessly into the tower the past few nights wearing outfits accented with flame patterns and red hot jewelry. Each subsequent sighting shows a progression towards exhaustion. When I raised my concerns to Ronan, I was advised to leave Grant be. He tells me that it happens some years and that it usually dies down when the tribute is gone. It's apparently normal to desire a child fighting for their life, but tacky to want to sleep with a dead one. If Peeta Mellark ends up winning, Ronan says the infatuation will last until he's shipped here and handed out directly. I'm not sure which outcome for the boy is worse.

Ronan and I have found ourselves spending more time together than ever before. Both of our usual companions had been critically busy trying to keep their respective tributes alive, and are now just as busy in their deaths, forced still to make public appearances and undergo copious interviews. We take to working together in Ronan's room, taking intel from Plutarch and doing our best to deliver solid analysis back. Whenever our own conclusions line up with Beetee's, Plutarch seems particularly reliant upon them. How he has a secure line of contact with the District 3 victor, I can't begin to understand. It's likely the result of some new invention, one that I don't presume to grasp the concept of. It's one thing to send inconspicuous messages across the few blocks that span between us and the gamemaker headquarters, but another thing completely to span hundreds of miles.

The longer we spend together, the more I come to understand the depth of Ronan's bitterness. He's not driven to revolution by the hope of a better future, but by that of destroying the Capitol institution. It seems at face value to be a flimsy drive to cause, but I've come to accept that Ronan and I simply have differing backgrounds and perhaps we won't ever fully understand each other's motivations. For now it is enough that we come to the same conclusion.

We compliment each other well. His wisdom of greater age draws a blanket around areas that I have little understanding of, and the bite of my youth forces him to reevaluate preconceived notions. It helps me immensely to have enough reassurance to squash the ever-present insecurity that clouds many of my more outlandish ideas. He offers support that I've never known, not even from my own dear mother. She was a driving force, pushing me to see reality as it was, casting critical eyes upon every detail. Ronan allows for abstract thought much more patiently, enacting praise as a currency.

It strikes me that that's exactly what I've always found myself longing for from a parent. The first time that I think about what it would have been like to have a father like Ronan, I'm nearly doubled over by the sensation of betrayal that rushes through me. I already have a father, it seems a sorry way to thank him for all he's done for me in the past year to fantasize about having another. My real father supported me through the preliminary grief of my mother, all Ronan's done is provide a safe space for thought experiments.