Cold air bites at your skin as you are pushed into a throttle of people, though everyone seems to be staring at you specifically. Sure, District 4 doesn't have that many victors to be selected for the quarter quell, but they have enough that it shouldn't be so automatic for people to presume you'd be picked. "Finnick Odair!" You look up just as said victor steps on stage, an easy grin etched onto his lips. It's for the cameras, but he wears it like a crown. You prepare yourself. If you get called, it'll be okay. You're an expert at masking your emotions, so much so that it'd likely put even Finnick to shame. And yet, when your name is announced, you feel like you're going to faint. Hands urge you to the podium to stand next to Finnick, who doesn't even spare you a glance.