She makes a small sound, something like a giggle mixed with a sigh as he crawls up to meet her. His kisses taste like wine and pudding and home and love, and everything good in the world. But like something a little sad as well. Desperation. Longing. Sometimes, when he kisses her it feels like he doesn't think he'll ever get to do it again, and it makes the world so... small. Like nothing else in the universe could possibly be more important than that kiss. It's impossible not to give into. To not want to give him the entire universe, if that was what he wanted.

Finnick's never been so complicated as that though. His wants were similar to her own. Each other: safe and happy.

It's more instinct than thought that drives her. She leans into his touch and raises her hands to find him there, solid and warm before her; her arms sliding around his neck. He is only real thing in this world of games and charades and she doesn't care how selfish it makes her; she doesn't ever want to let him go.

"Every way," she tells him. It's surprisingly forward for her to come out of her mouth at all, but Finnick has always been good at making things easier.