"Because I fucking hate it here, too. I hate getting out of bed and I can't trust anybody." Now that Finnick was actually moving and getting up, Gale stopped messing with him. Instead, he sat on the edge of the bed (on the sheets, because he'd tossed off the comforter), and leaned on his knees. "We're what we've got here. If someone else wants to just roll over and give up, then fine. But not one of us. Sorry, man."