𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐍 𝐏𝐈𝐄 ━━ finnick odair ✓

𝐭𝐰𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐲. ( the chase )

           Gloss and I busy ourselves in the kitchen finding dinner while the rest of our party argues back in the living room. Peeta bargains to be put to death while the rest of the crew debates the merits of it. I figured I was the person whose opinion matters the least (and I couldn't stomach it), so I left them behind to figure it out. Evidently Gloss felt the same because he chased hot on my heels, readily helping me to find some suitable food.

Finnick's voice is muffled through the walls, but it's clear to me that he's yelling. I shudder as I pick through the canned goods. It's easy to see why the situation upsets him so viscerally. He was Peeta when he first arrived at District 13, a danger to himself and everyone around him. Gloss and I weren't around to see it, nor do we know Peeta very well, so we find no claim either side of the argument.

We finally decide on making chili with the copious amount of beans that we find. We pull out a large pot and begin to boil chicken stock and water.

"When did we come here? I barely remember it." I prompt Gloss when the sound of muffled shouting grows too oppressive.

"You weren't sober for most of the visit. We filmed a dirty scene for one of the movies Fortune Eight produced. She didn't like your acting skills so she gave you some drugs. You were... pretty out of it after that. I had to carry you to the cab after."

"She fired me, didn't she? I vaguely remember getting fired by her." It strikes me suddenly as darkly hilarious.

"Yeah, she replaced you with Gaia." Gloss nods. "The movie was shit, by the way."

"No doubt. Gaia wasn't a very good actress either." I mix tomato paste into the bubbling pot with a huge ladle.

"You'd have voted to keep Peeta alive if it came down to it, wouldn't you?" Gloss asks me very suddenly.

"Yeah." I nod. "And you would have voted to kill him. So it doesn't really matter that we're missing out anyway, we're a null package."

"He could've gotten you killed today. Not that you needed any help. You keep sticking your goddamn neck out. You know Ronan would want you to just keep your head down and get the job done." Gloss is on edge, spooning spices into the pots with more force than necessary.

I don't justify his concerns with an answer, instead doing just as he says by keeping my head down and finishing the chili. When the sound of arguing has tapered off, Gloss goes back to call the squad to the meal. I set out ten bowls and spoons, going over the list of who has survived in my head to make sure. We started with twelve. We lost Boggs and Mitchell. We have ten left. As long as they haven't killed Peeta yet.

A line of soldiers shuffle in to collect dinner, Peeta still among them. They're dejected, with only quiet words of thanks on their tongues before they head back into the living room. Gloss and I fill the last two bowls before following them. Seemingly out of respect for the meal, nobody talks while they eat. I sit close enough to Finnick that I can feel his leg trembling beside me. I place a palm on his knee, squeezing my gentle reassurance.

When the stew is finished and the dishes discarded, we decide to get back to business. Just as Katniss begins to speak, the TV lights up once more. Images of fallen victors grace the screen formatted just like a broadcast of the games. I'm not sure whether the message is from the Capitol or District 13 until I see that the placard below my name is District 4. Which means it's Capitol, then. Coin prefers the use of District 3 for me in their propos, District 13 defines me as where I was born. Snow defines me as when I became significant to him.