She wants to wrap herself around him, to pull him deep into her; to make sure that he never leaves. It's a raw, powerful and needful thing. And right now, she can't quite be sure where she ends, and he begins. She feels lost. Intoxicated. But the warm pull of the wine in her veins has dulled almost to the point of inconsequence. This is Finnick now. Everywhere. Driving her mad, but in the best possible way.

"And I love you," she echoes, whisper soft.