You had been married to Finnick for three years. And in those three years, you'd learned a lot about him. His past (the Games, the prostitution forced by Snow), his present (the Darling, responsible for making the Capitol remain interesting through his looks and charm), and his authentic self (the person that washed your hair in the shower, then braided it when you got out. The person that made you chicken soup and homemade popsicles when you were sick. The person that sang sea shanties to you to lull you to sleep.) You'd also learned of the importance of parties. Making an appearance was the most important thing about his responsibility to Snow. Show up, look as gorgeous as he always does, talk to some important people, talk to some easily impressed and unimportant people, then leave.

Usually, you never went to these parties. It unsettled you how fake Finnick had to be, just to survive and keep you and his family safe. Snow had narrowly accepted your existence as long as Finnick continued his role, so you were obviously allowed to go. But it wasn't your scene -- and you didn't want to see your husband that way.

Tonight, you were forced by Finnick. Your acceptance was due to affection for your husband, who wanted you there with him when one year became another. It was a New Years' party at the Capitol -- a lavish event. He bought you a stunning dress, curving to your body. Regardless, you still weren't happy. As much as you didn't want it to, Finnick's attitude when he was in the Capitol annoyed you. He acted so above everyone else. You knew it was an act, that Finnick was the most gentle and humble man you'd ever met. But you hated that he'd forced you to be here, to watch it and to feel smaller than him. And now here you were, just where you didn't want to be. In a Capitol hotel, drunk and fighting with an equally drunk Finnick.

"You don't get it, do you? This isn't about me wanting to be here!" He shouts, running a hand through his tousled bronze locks. His eyes are hazed by champagne.