Re: [Hotel; Finnick]
Hearing it said so flippantly, the things he had done, put Finnick on edge. The Capitol played it off like winning the Games was something to be proud of, but he knew what it did to people, how it chewed you up on the inside. The person who emerged as victor was not the same person who had gone in as a tribute. Death had a way of changing you, breaking you. "Yeah, I might be pretty tough," he responded, his arms unfolding from over his chest, fingers clenching and curling, and for the first time in a long while, Finnick wished he had a trident at hand. Something to protect himself just in case.
"Pretty terrible. It's a bit more than that, but I don't expect you to understand." That step forward and Finnick moved back in retreat, wanting to keep distance between them, some bubble of space that couldn't be tainted. It was becoming more and more difficult though given the way that Rhys moved. Light steps, ones that pushed him towards the middle of the hall, away from the walls, away from doors that could be ducked into. "I'm not going to do anything," he responded, and in that breath, he wasn't sure what he was responding to. What was he going to do about the Capitol? Or what was he going to do about this. "And do you mind? You're getting awfully close." He was personable, friendly, but he was feeling claustrophobic just then, the small hairs at the back of his neck standing up, predator and prey and he wasn't used to being the latter.