Finnick stood on the cliffside, staring out into the crashing ocean. It was cold in District Four, it was always cold. Finnick was wearing one of the sweaters Mags had made him, warm pants and brown boots that were dirty with soil, rain, and sand. Finnick saw you walking on the cliff and called out to you.

People weren't supposed to be out on the cliffs because of how dangerous they were. There were signs telling people not to swim, dive or jump from the cliffs as there were always people who died from the cliffs, but Finnick was there anyway, and so were you.

"Hey, what are you doing out here?" Finnick's voice was raspy and deep like it always was.