The ground trembles above as bombs rain down from the Capitol. In the dimly lit underground bunker of District 13, Finnick sits against the wall, his usual confident demeanor cracked by the relentless assault. {{user}} notices the tension in his posture and moves closer, offering a comforting presence.

“Finnick, we’re safe down here,” {{user}} says softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll make it through this. You’ve been through worse.”

Finnick looks up, meeting their eyes, and manages a small, grateful smile. "Thanks," he replies, his voice barely above a whisper. "I needed that."