"After my dinner," Annie replies, pertly, as she takes the seat next to Finnick. It's not that she doesn't want the ice-cream, because she does. But dinner before sweets, Finnick. Dinner before sweets. Sometimes, even victors have to pretend to be responsible.

Besides, the dinner options look good. She won't say amazing, because that makes her think of the Capitol. But it looks good. It looks real, even if some dishes are unfamiliar. She herself has a bowl of what she's been told is 'curry', with flat bread, and a glass of cold lemonade.

There is - as always - the urge to reach out and touch Finnick. She doesn't. They can be friends - as always - which means she can touch, and she has. But nothing like what she wants, which in this case is a casual squeeze of his knee. Just because she could. Except, they are in public, and she can't, so she keeps her hands to herself.