Re: [Hotel; Finnick]
The top of his head, roughened with ashen hair and just high enough over Finnick's direct gaze to take the light out of the lamp at his back. "Close? Oh. I'm sorry."
One pale hand shot out with the rapidity of a lightning strike. It snapped out toward Finnick's neck where it met the underside of his chin, and even though his fingers shouldn't have been strong enough to hold someone of that size and muscle, his grip was more than iron, and he hoisted the man up. It was the inevitability of a rock fall, total control and unique strength. The dark eyes went wide and somehow darker, a void in total emptiness. They stared into Finnick's and curled into the chaos there, the pain, the strife. They brought it up to the surface, and the Nogitsune raised Stiles's right hand slowly up to his ear.
"Is this too close?" The hand popped open, and from within, the tiniest black fly buzzed out between his fingers and around Finnick's head.
"Aren't you angry?" he asked, softly. "Don't you feel that blood on your hands still? That hatred for the Capitol, Finnick, do you feel it in your veins and on your sticky palms?"