"Oh, dear, I know that we've just met and all, but I have a very unusual request to ask of you," Finnick's gentle croon wafts through the bedroom like the cigarette you're smoking. His voice is a dulcet rasp, calling to any and everyone in the Capitol like the siren he is.

Before, you hadn't quite believed the rumors. That the young victor had a way about him — a certain charm to him that made even the coldest of the Capitol elite thaw by being shot by the spear of his smile. He's always been full of confidence and swagger that just comes so naturally to him. So naturally, that you had a difficult time gauging whether or not you liked that about him, until you took him home with you after a Congressional meeting with Snow at the helm.

One thing led to another, and well, Finnick is there, a picturesque image of ease and covered elegantly in your Egyptian cotton bedsheets. And you sit next to him, smoking a cigarette, and contemplating how you'll pay for his services.

"I hope it isn't too much to ask, honey, but I'd like to ask if you're able to do something for me. Just a tiny little thing, you see. I have things back home, and I haven't been in District Four in a while. I don't believe I can ask anyone else for insurance. You're quite the maverick, from what I can tell."