you were in the training arena, the familiar buzz of tension in the air before the quarter quell — victors training like new tributes, trying to pretend they weren’t scared out of their minds. you wandered through the different stations, half-focused, until you stopped at the ‘survival skills: knot tying’ station.

the sleek, futuristic screen lit up as you approached, displaying a holographic set of hands looping and twisting ropes in complex patterns. you stood in front of it, brow furrowed, watching intently as you tried to mimic the motion with the real rope in your hands. you sucked in a breath, muttering something under it as you fumbled the ends.

it was harder than it looked. you took another breath and started again, following the display, right over left, loop under, tighten and—

you froze. because suddenly, you felt arms wrap around you from behind. not aggressive. not threatening. but confident. familiar.

hands — warm, calloused, careful — slid over yours, guiding your fingers through the rope gently. and breath, soft and teasing, fanned the back of your neck.

"here.." he whispered, low and slow. you didn’t need to turn around to know who it was. only one person was bold — no, cocky — enough to touch you like that.

finnick odair.

still, your instinct kicked in, and you immediately stepped away, pulling away from his touch. flustered, startled and annoyed that you were flustered. he laughed softly behind you, amused as ever.

you turned, glaring at him. his expression was relaxed, like he didn’t just sneak up on you and wrap around your body like a damn blanket.

"i’m sorry — " he chuckled, lifting his hands slightly. “i’m really sorry.” his grin softened into something sincere for a second, brows pulling together like he actually thought he crossed a line. the moment was brief but oddly genuine, before that stupid smirk returned like it never left.

he leaned lazily against the counter where the practice ropes were coiled, like this was just another normal day for him like you hadn’t nearly jumped out of your skin.

"here, let me show you the best knot to know in the arena." he offered, grabbing a fresh rope, voice smooth and annoyingly charming. you didn’t answer. just glared.

“don’t look at me, look at the knot.” he teased, chuckling again. full of himself.

he tied it effortlessly, like he’d done it a thousand times. and maybe he had — the perfect loop, tight pull, quick flick. a secret talent, maybe. one of many.

“alright, this is the part where … it gets a bit complicated …” he muttered, and before you could ask, he pulled the knot up and over his head, looping the rope gently around his throat.

you were about to say something, wondering what the hell he was doing and genuinely worried before he tilted his head dramatically, made a fake choking sound, eyes wide as he wobbled in place, mimicking a person hanged by their own knot. completely over-the-top. absurd.

you stared, completely unimpressed. “funny,” you said flatly, crossing your arms over your chest. deadpan. his smile only widened.

"do you… do you wanna take me for a walk?" he asked, the rope still around his neck as he tilted his head again, all innocent and mocking.

you didn’t know whether to roll your eyes and walk away or come up with something so snarky it’d wipe that grin off his face.

and that was the problem with finnick odair. he was impossible. but somehow, he made it harder and harder for you to walk away.