WHO: Finnick Odair and OPEN WHAT: Worrying about Annie and fishing WHEN: Saturday night WHERE: Madison Valley Marina WARNINGS: Talk of PTSD, possible talk of non-con STATUS: OPEN/Ongoing
Annie's breakdown yesterday had shaken Finnick more than he cared to admit. It had been a long time since she'd had one that bad, and he'd thought - hoped - maybe she was coming out of it, that being here, away from the Capitol, away from Panem, would make things better for her. Apparently, it didn't. He'd felt almost sick yesterday after he'd seen her safely to bed, and he hadn't slept at all well himself. He'd sat up nearly all night watching TV from the recliner in the living room, trying to keep his mind from going to dangerous places. He'd held a piece of rope in his hands, tying knots and untying them, his tried and true way to relive tension. And he'd managed to keep control of himself until sunrise, when Annie wouldn't be afraid if she awoke.
He'd gone out, having to spend some of the nervous energy he'd built, and picked up some doughnuts and coffee for the two of them, leaving them on the table for her before heading out again, this time down to the river.
The river wasn't the sea, but it was water, and it was the most familiar thing about this place. He gravitated to it in his more difficult times, and that was where he went now, walking along the shore, trying to clear his mind. Far on the west side of the river, he noticed a little marina for the first time, and smiled slightly. He had some hooks he was working on in his pocket, and with enough time he could fashion a rod good enough to maybe catch a fish. And even if not, the work would be relaxing and familiar - exactly what he needed right now.
He made his way the half-mile or so to the Marina, walking out to the very end of the last pier. The cooler air had driven the rotting-fish smell away from the river (for which he was very glad) and it was actually quite pleasant.
He wasn't sure how long he sat there, carving the hook, or whittling the rod, but when it was finished he was pretty content with how it was. He'd used better, of course, he'd made better, but he'd had more time than he had with this one, too. He let his toes dangle over the side as he cast it in, not really expecting to catch anything, but appreciating the chance simply to let his mind escape into familiar pursuits.