𝙲𝙾𝙽𝙵𝙾𝚄𝙽𝙳 ° finnick odair ¹

3

Tʜʀᴇᴇ
Tʜᴇ Tʀᴀɪɴ

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After the goodbyes, the two tributes were forced back out of their rooms and into cars that would take them to the train station. People of the district glanced their way as the rumble of the engines were heard, watching the big trucks as they made their way down the gravel paths.

The ride was, thankfully, short before the arrived at the station. No one was around, everyone probably with their families or having gone back to work for the remainder of the day. So, with one last glance over her shoulder and one last whiff of the sea-salt air, Adrienne stepped onto the train.

She had never seen so many lavish colors in one place. Gorgeous, deep reds and plush greens were spread throughout the train car, even the walls themselves being made of what appeared to be a royal blue felt.

The largest buffet of delectables was spread across the dining table; she had never seen so much food in one place. The table itself was a dark wood, the glossy finish causing the light from the chandelier to dance off of it in white streaks.

"Welcome," Fleurie's voice rang from across the room. The woman herself was standing beside the table, opening her arms in greeting. "To the glamorous part of the Games."

Neither teenager made a move, each just standing in awe in the doorway. The peacekeepers had gone and the door had been shut, but each was too shocked to move.

"Come. Come you two." The escort made their way towards the pair, gently building them over to the mahogany table. "Sit and eat. You'll need your strength."

As the girl moved over to the table, she had noticed that the world outside was blurring past. She hadn't even noticed, or even felt, that the train had started moving. But she quickly pushed the thought away and pulled out a chair next to the head of the table, noticing how their was already a half full glass sitting in front of it.

Adrienne hadn't even moved a hand in efforts to grab some food when a full plate was placed in front of both her and Vern. The two shared a look as the silent servants moved back to their positions by the wall.

"Thank you," The blonde muttered to them, but they didn't seem to acknowledge her. So instead, she just turned back to her plate.

An assortment of foods she rarely got to see in her home district were piled on the silver platter. Fresh fruits and vegetables, along with a slice of meet she could only assume was some kind of fish. There were other things taking up space, things she couldn't even remember the names to.

"You know," A sly voice spoke up from right behind her, startling the girl out of her thoughts. She whipped her head to the side, seeing a playful smile spread across the face of a young man. "It's even better when you actually eat it."

With a confused look, she watched as the young man moved away and slid into the spot next to her, at the head of the table. His hand instantly moved to the half full glass, brining it to his blush colored lips. It didn't take a genius to figure out who this was.

Their mentor, Finnick Odair.

"So, you're the unlucky souls who have to endure the Games this year, hmm?" He questioned before taking a sip from his glass, leaning back in his chair.

His remark earned him a smack on the arm from Fleurie. A chain of unfortunate events lead to the boy dripping some of his drink down his chin, sitting back up as he reached for a napkin.

"Watch your tone, young man," The escort scolded, earning a playful glare from the mentor as he wiped himself off.

"I'm just telling the truth," He argued, turning back to the tributes and giving them a wink when the purple haired woman turned away. This caused the pair to laugh softly.

The woman merely sighed, clearly having seen his actions, before she turned with a pearly, white smile to the teenagers. "Adrienne, Vern. This is Finnick Odair, winner of the 65th Hunger Games and your mentor."

For the first time since boarding the train, Vern spoke up. "You won at fourteen." He said in amazement.

Finnick nodded, once again holding his drink, having topped it off after it spilled. "Youngest ever." He said. "Still waiting for someone to break that record."

The blonde girl was the next to speak, not able to hold her tongue as she snarked back. "Looks like it's not happening this year." She said, causing all eyes to turn to her, but she was just looking at the nineteen year old. "Not from Four, at least."

Much to her surprise, he didn't seem offended by her tone. Instead, his smile seemed to grow as he brought his glass back up to his lips. "Seems not."

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