WHO: Annie & Finnick WHAT: Reunions WHERE: Their apartment WHEN: Backdated to after she returns WARNINGS/RATINGS: TBD. Probable mentions of past trauma/violence.
Annie had done quite well up to the point when she'd ended up at the apartment. She'd listened, tried to understand... but now it was quiet again, and she was on her own, barefoot in a strange place, and the panic started to rise up over her head.
The brunette made a low noise in the back of her throat, which sounded impossibly loud in the quiet room. Annie was sat perched on the sofa, thin fingers curled tightly over the edge of the seat. This wasn't right. She was supposed to have been going away, been taken somewhere safe after the cold, hard rooms of the Capitol. And now she was here and it was all so different and... Annie felt a faint rushing noise start up, and tightened her grip on the sofa to keep herself from clapping her hands over her ears.
Finnick. Finnick was here. He'd said he'd come find her. Annie trusted Finnick with everything, and if he said he would be here soon, he'd be here soon.
It had been such a long time since she'd spoken to him - before the reaping, back when they'd taken him away and put him back in the arena. She'd seen him on screens since then, but those memories were so frantic and frightened Annie found it hard to catch hold of them. She just wanted Finnick back.
Then there was a sound at the door. Annie flinched away automatically, feeling a instinctive jolt of fear deep in her gut. But when the door opened, it was to reveal a tall, handsome figure with fair hair.
"Finnick." The name that came from Annie's lips was halfway between a gasp and a sob, and then she was throwing herself across the space between them, catapulting into his arms.