Their agreement was still so freshly-decided that it was impossible yet to know whether sharing that sort of domesticity would make things easier or more difficult, regardless of whatever fiction they'd be required to spin. Even so, Annie was incapable of refusing, the allure even of pretending at normalcy with Finnick far too strong, and she nodded.

"Let me change," she replied, her feet still bare and the hem of her skirt stiff with dried salt water. Finnick's family saw her nearly every day in various states of disorder, yet somehow it mattered how she looked.