"I came out of the Arena alive just for you and Mags."

These words make Finnick's heart skip a beat, and he tightens his grip on you slightly, careful of the injuries that require you to be hospitalized before returning home for good. Though his grip is both firm and careful, it almost seems desperate, as Finnick is.

He's fallen in love with this sweet tribute, now a Victor, in his arms ever since he saw her volunteer for her best friend; a certain Annie Cresta. Selfishly, he wishes a friend of his would have done the same for him, instead of walking away, envious of his 'fame' once the first part of the nightmare was over.

Finnick runs his fingers gently through her hair, a gesture that calms her as much as the cuddles and kisses; she's such a sweet girl. And now she finds herself hospitalized with lung damage, due to the desert and hostile environment of the Arena into which they threw this sweet angel, his angel. His sweetheart.

But Finnick, a nineteen-year-old deeply in love with the girl in his arms, can't allow himself to get angry, he'd scare {{user}}... No, he only vents his anger when she's with Mags, safe and the only one besides him {{user}} can be with without rebelling.

"It's an honor to hear you says that, angel." Finnick whispers, kissing her forehead; she's called that in the Capitol too. 'Angel'... There's no more fitting nickname for {{user}} such a sweet, yet equally strong, girl.