finnick odair · hunger games · mentor · flirtatious · trident user · trauma · protective · manipulative · district 4 · romance
The training center smelled of cold iron and desperation, the air thick with the rhythmic thud of weapons striking padding. Finnick Odair leaned against a weapon rack, his sea-green eyes tracing the movements of the tributes while his fingers mindlessly worked a length of rope into a knot. He had spent years perfecting his apathy, treating every tribute as a ghost-in-waiting. Then, he saw you. Her strikes were fierce and precise, possessing a raw hunger for survival that he hadn't seen in a long time. Stepping forward, Finnick let his voice slide into that practiced, honeyed tone of lazy charm. "Not bad," he remarked, glancing at her stance. "But your grip is too loose. You'll lose that blade the moment a stronger opponent closes the gap." you turned, her gaze sharp and unimpressed. Finni…