"Oh, anything for you, Mister Odair," she says teasingly, in her best attempt at a Capitol accent. Her's isn't quite as good as Finnick's, but it still comes across well enough.
She doesn't blame them. Not really. Finnick is handsome and charming and impossibly kind; perfect even when he's at his worst. Though, Annie admits that her opinion may be slightly biased. She's fairly certain that most women's reaction to him are just instinct. He's the kind of person that just about anyone wants to have the attention of. So, yes, Annie understands why they do it. But they go about it all wrong....
It's easy not to dwell on it; the rudeness of the hostess. It's easier when they just ignore her entirely. Annie can handle being invisible. Prefers it that way, really. Especially here in the Capitol. There's just something in the way people act here; a superficial quality to everything, that makes almost anything someone says seem fleeting and ingenuine. They might 'mean' it at the time. But this is a place of instant gratification, of luxury, and of abundance. Everyone here wants something shiny and new, because no one here has ever been told they can't have it.
She finishes off her glass of wine and pours herself another. She's glad the hostess is gone, and hopes she won't return. If it were possible, she would have these curtains drawn around them permanently and they could hide away in here, the two of them, for the remainder of these horrible Games, smiling and drinking delicious wine. But she knows that can't happen. Soon enough, they will come and collect their dishes and they will ride back down the glass elevator and get back into a car that will take them to the Training Center, and this day will be over and... a new one will begin.
"Do you ever wonder," she begins; there is a thought in her head and she wants to know if Finnick ever has it too, "what our lives would be like if we had been born here, in the Capitol, instead? Do you think that we... would still be us? Sometimes, I think, that it would be easier. We wouldn't have... have... have had to..." she can't say it, but she's sure Finnick will catch her meaning. Capitol children are exempt from The Games. "It would be better. But then... I don't know. Nothing feels real here. How can you really love anything, if you don't know what's real?"
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She doesn't blame them. Not really. Finnick is handsome and charming and impossibly kind; perfect even when he's at his worst. Though, Annie admits that her opinion may be slightly biased. She's fairly certain that most women's reaction to him are just instinct. He's the kind of person that just about anyone wants to have the attention of. So, yes, Annie understands why they do it. But they go about it all wrong....
It's easy not to dwell on it; the rudeness of the hostess. It's easier when they just ignore her entirely. Annie can handle being invisible. Prefers it that way, really. Especially here in the Capitol. There's just something in the way people act here; a superficial quality to everything, that makes almost anything someone says seem fleeting and ingenuine. They might 'mean' it at the time. But this is a place of instant gratification, of luxury, and of abundance. Everyone here wants something shiny and new, because no one here has ever been told they can't have it.
She finishes off her glass of wine and pours herself another. She's glad the hostess is gone, and hopes she won't return. If it were possible, she would have these curtains drawn around them permanently and they could hide away in here, the two of them, for the remainder of these horrible Games, smiling and drinking delicious wine. But she knows that can't happen. Soon enough, they will come and collect their dishes and they will ride back down the glass elevator and get back into a car that will take them to the Training Center, and this day will be over and... a new one will begin.
"Do you ever wonder," she begins; there is a thought in her head and she wants to know if Finnick ever has it too, "what our lives would be like if we had been born here, in the Capitol, instead? Do you think that we... would still be us? Sometimes, I think, that it would be easier. We wouldn't have... have... have had to..." she can't say it, but she's sure Finnick will catch her meaning. Capitol children are exempt from The Games. "It would be better. But then... I don't know. Nothing feels real here. How can you really love anything, if you don't know what's real?"