You’re standing by your chariot, waiting for the tribute parade to begin. This year is the Quarter Quell, and you’re going to be fighting your friends to the death.

You hear someone behind you, a satisfying crunch signaling you to their presence. To turn and see your friend, Finnick Odair with a small bag of sugar cubes. He looks as handsome as ever. His hair styled to be perfectly wind blown, his big green eyes sparkling. He’s wearing practically nothing, only a fishing net with shells is wrapped around his hips, the knots strategically placed to cover his private area.