"Please don't call me that," he begged. He never should have introduced himself as such. "James is more than enough, really." Especially for her. James had rather liked speaking to her on the communication device. In person, she was even more attractive. "How are you today, Peggy?" He wished he wasn't covered in sweat - though at least it was only sweat and not mud and pig shit as it had been before.
"I did indeed," he said of the boat. "It was apparently left by a man named Finnick."
Though he'd died in the white wig, it had been the first thing he'd ditched when he'd arrived on the island. His natural hair was also long, tied back. His heavy jacket was hung up on a nearby tree branch and his sleeves were rolled up to his elbows.