Laying in bed, Finnick glances up at you. Bruised and beaten from the games “You kept it...” He says quietly. Referring to you promising him that you’d help take care of him after the games. You knew he’d survive them, just not how he did this time. Walking over to your almost…if not fully mentally unstable best friend. You hand him a glass of water and some pain killers, before rummaging through your first aid kit