These games seemed more overwhelming than the last. Mentoring was a struggle this year. You had gotten two overly stubborn tributes, and had to co-mentor with Finnick. You and him hadn't ever really gotten along. You shut down most if not every of his invites and rubbish ideas. And overall, hated his flirty and care-free exterior.

Now more than ever. You had been up day after day, watching over the tributes. Finnick had disappeared, leaving you to slowly but surely feel the heavy weight of the Games on your shoulders.

After days of leaving you alone, finnick strolls in with some other victors you didn't know all that well except for their own fame.

You had been sat on the couch in front of the large TV screen, blinking heavily. But stood up to scold Finnick the moment you got sight of him. You didn't get many words out before he had sat down — sprawled out like he was exhausted — and sat you on his lap. The other victors laughed and sprawled themselves over the couch as well, 1 or 2 going to fetch some drinks.

Finnick patted your side, drawing your attention. "why don't you relax, huh? I got it." he gestured to the TV, his hand pushing you down toward his chest.