71st_victor | (no subject)

(no subject)

Don't die.

There are bigger things at stake these Games, but the little voice in Johanna's head has been bred and born of a survivor's instinct awoken years ago. She's no victor by chance and even if these Games are about protecting a beacon for the people, the flare of instinct is kicking up a fuss as Johanna stands on the platform and waits for the countdown that will bring her back to the killing arena.

She knows what she's supposed to do. Of course she knows, no one can shut up it. Katniss wants Nuts and Volts and Johanna knows that while they might be victors, they're ripe for the picking in a field of killers like the one they're entering. Lucky, then, that Johanna's just as wild and wicked as the rest of them. There's going to be an axe, she knows that much, and once she has that in her hand, she's going to tear her way through the careers with pleasure.

Don't die.

In 10, 9, 8...

There's so many variables at play and Katniss better not fuck up. If she dies after they've gone to all this trouble to make sure their plans are in place...

7, 6, 5...

Johanna closes her eyes and stares upwards at the black disc covering the entrance to the arena. There's a mix of trepidation and the hint of fear in her body, but there's also something dangerous there. It's anticipation.

4, 3, 2...

And then there's nothing left to wait for as she rises and rises, pulled up like the victor she has onto her podium before she's let into the wild to kill again. She grins darkly to herself as she clenches her fists at her side and mouths 'one' as the disc opens and delivers her into the arena.

Which happens to be a very pristine looking hotel lobby. The only sign she's distressed is in her eyes. She presses her weight into her heels a little tighter as if to prevent the explosives beneath her from blowing and tightens her core as she crouches, hoping this isn't some new twist the game-makers have developed. "Hey!" she shouts, aware she's calling attention to herself, but fully aware that she's more than capable of handling anyone who comes her way. "Come and get me!" They can come to her.

Johanna can wait.

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Back into the arena. He was certain that it was the nightmare that they all had at one point or another -- the notion of being in the arena riddled their brains with darkness, chewed them from the inside out. It had been terrifying to hear his name called out, terrifying in a way it hadn't been when he was 14. At 24, he understood death and pain and suffering. He knew what was waiting for him inside that arena. But, he also knew that it was the only chance they had. It was a grand opportunity, and one that would never be repeated again. As long as they got Katniss out alive, it would be a rallying cry. Snow was serving them a great chance.

Finnick strode off the hovercraft and worked on keeping his hands still, even though his fingers itched for the heavy weight of a trident. He was sorely tempted to play with the bracelet that was wrapped around his wrist, but he knew better than to draw attention to it before getting into the arena.

He reached for the door that would lead to the launch pad, able to feel the tension twisting up his spine, clawing at his throat. This was nothing, he told himself; he was Finnick Odair, and he was made to endure.

When he opened the door, he faltered for a moment. It wasn't the same industrial layout of last time, which admittedly, was now a decade before. But there was no launch pad here. This couldn't be the arena, could it? He edged inside carefully, eyes scanning the walls, feet feeling along the carpet for any trap that could be waiting. It looked like some of the nicer hotels he had been taken to in the Capitol. They wouldn't fight here, would they? It was certain different than anything he had seen before -- but no countdown, no cornucopia. No other tributes.

And then he heard Johanna shouting. He resisted the urge to break into a run. This territory was too unfamiliar. She didn't sound too far off -- maybe on the other side of the lobby.

"Johanna!" he shouted in return, his senses on high alert for any attacker.

Instincts that had been dormant for years surge up. Johanna's done her best not to get rusty. It's not that she had ever expected to be thrust back into the Hunger Games, but after what Snow did to her family, she needed to be able to protect herself and the sharp guarantee of an axe's edge was a sweet thing to have faith in. When she heard Finnick, her first thought is cynical as she wonders why he isn't near her.

She breathes in short, sharp bursts as impatience begins to flood her system and she wars with herself over whether to take a step off the launch pad. "Whatever they're trying to do, it won't work!" She cranes her neck upwards, searching for a camera. This can't be the arena. This posh luxury so evocative of the Capitol. Then her stomach sinks and she nearly falters a step back. Maybe this is the arena and they're playing in a different kind of jungle; the luxurious wallpaper of the Capitol to accompany their killing.

They wouldn't, would they? Would they really tarnish their precious halls with victor's blood?

"Finnick!" she shouts back, a burst of staccato noise. "In here!"

He broke into a careful jog the moment she shouted his name back. He kept expecting to see other victors; if he and Johanna were both here, it was likely that the others were here too. (He didn't let himself think about what it meant if it was only him and Johanna here.)

He didn't have to go far before she came into his line of view -- still on her launchpad. He faltered openly, confused. He had never reached his own. She was still on hers. What was happening? Reflexively, he glanced about the room once again. No weapons. No cameras. No other victors.

"You all right?" he asked, still keeping something of a distance between himself and the pad. He didn't want to trigger anything.

"If I end up in pieces, I want them mailed to Snow's grandchilden," she bites out the words, casting her head to the side with a quickness that brings her fringe of hair snapping with her, staring down at the launchpad. "I'm fine," she says belatedly, though 'fine' is a relative term given their situation as of late. "Where's Katniss?" she asks. True, Johanna's self-preservation hasn't abandoned her, but if Katniss needs help, then Finnick should go. Johanna can defend herself.

"Nuts? Volts?" She lets out a ragged laugh, actually pretty damn delighted at how chaotic this suddenly is because it's funny. It's absolutely funny that everything is going upriver without a paddle, but the moment she hears a break in her own laughter, she stills. "How are we supposed to do anything if we can't find anyone else?" she asks, leaning forward in case there are hidden cameras watching them.

"I'll hand deliver them," Finnick answered, flashing her a Capitol-ready smile. A macabre moment of humor to be sure, but sometimes that was all they had left to them. It didn't quite mask the fear that he might be forced to watch her die. He hadn't dare to mention it to her in person, already knowing the sort of reception it would receive; she was one of the most capable of the victors, which was certainly why it was handy to have her in the arena with him. But that didn't make it any easier to come to terms with the fact that he might lose one of the few people he considered a friend.

"Just you and me so far," Finnick answered, words measured. She would have her own theories, undoubtedly, about why that was. Either they had been discovered or captured prior to the Games (but why just them then? There were others involved), or this arena divided the victors up. Which was unlike the previous styles of the arena. There couldn't be a bloodbath if they were all scattered about this hotel.

"We need to get you off this launchpad first," Finnick said. It would be safer to go looking for Katniss when it was the two of them. The girl would have to take care of herself for a few moments. (Maybe not your best plan, Odair, he mentally chided himself.) Still, with no countdown, it seemed as if the only thing for Johanna to do was to ... step off. If he edged closer, or put anything else on the floor surrounding and there were bombs, they would injure her anyway.

Johanna's attention is fixated on her feet. She stands flat-footed, but her body moves in fluid motions to try and inspect the ground beneath her, which stands out compared to the luxury of the rest of the floor. "You think this is some kind of sick twist?" she asks. "That maybe they dropped us into one of their palaces? They wouldn't," she snorts, ridiculing her own idea as soon as she's expressed it. "They wouldn't dare let us taint their precious image with the death they seem to love so much." A frustrated scream builds in her throat, but she keeps it in. The only sound that escapes is a glimmer of that frustration through a nearly feral growl that she tamps down. "Maybe we can shift the weight with something else. Give me something heavy and we'll make sure they still think someone's on it."

Does she believe that will work? Honestly, Johanna doesn't even know. She really didn't think her part in the revolution died on the launch pad. "If they think we're going to kill each other this early in the game, they're idiots," she comments with thick disdain.

Sick twist. There was always some kind of sick twist, but at least Finnick could usually understand where they were coming from. Plutarch was supposed to be on their side this time though, so what the hell was this? Finnick had been expecting a difficult arena, but he had also been expecting hidden help. He didn't even know if this was the arena.

"This isn't one of the hotels in the Capitol," Finnick said finally. He'd been too all of those. "But they may have built this to resemble some building in the Capitol."

The thought made his stomach tighten. It wouldn't taint any place currently in existence -- but when this arena was empty, they could rent out this space. All that extra cash -- sleep in the room where Finnick Odair died. No, he reminded himself. They weren't going to let that happen. This time was different, and not just because of the strange arena.

He didn't argue with her, even though he didn't think for a minute that was going to work. She had to just step off. But he went across the room and started gathering stacks of chairs, putting them on top of each other and sliding them closer to the platform, until there were enough to weigh nearly as much as Johanna.

"Ready?" he asked, his own throat going tight.

She watches the chairs and reaches out for his shoulder. This is going to have to be fast and her movement furious because if the pad explodes beneath her, then it's bye-bye Johanna Mason, and sorry for your terrible life. There's a calculated look in her eyes as she stares downwards and knows that if they don't get moving and this is the arena, then they're wasting time. "Did you see any weapons?" she asks as she hooks an arm around a chair and lets it over on the pad, waiting until it's nearly to the ground before slamming the legs down and jumping on top of it.

She holds her breath without meaning to. She reaches out for the next chair, ready to stack that and push her weight off. It's a tricky thing, but she manages to get the chair on and jump well clear. She lands on the ground, bracing her fall by going to one knee and staring forward at the intact structure they've made. Nothing. No explosion, no reaction. Nothing.

She's never been without fight, but maybe there's some hope left, too. "What about the others? Blight? Mags?"

He stilled when her hand came into contact with his shoulder, knowing there was so little he could do. (Finnick hated being helpless. Often, it was worse than actually having the power to do something, even if that power was killing.) This wouldn't be a terrible death. It would be quick. They would be together if the pad exploded. But it would also be meaningless. He wasn't stupid. He knew that, physically, he and Johanna had the best chances of getting Katniss out of the arena.

"No," he answered, readily occupying himself with the strain of conversation she offered up. If this was the arena, there had to be weapons here. There wasn't any chance in hell that they had made an arena without it; people wanted to see him with his trident, Johanna with her axe, Katniss with her bow.

He didn't let himself flinch when she jumped. He did stare a moment too long when she was suddenly off the pad, free, and they were both unharmed. He wanted to be suspicious. He wanted to hug her, grateful that one of his only friends was still alive. He grinned while imagining her reaction, although he didn't explain the source of his amusement. Later, he figured. Later, he would hug her and deal with whatever bruises came as the consequences.

"I haven't seen anyone else," Finnick answered, not daring to say Mags' name out loud just yet. His heart twisted again just at the mention. She was another person he needed to protect -- and how was he supposed to do that if he couldn't find any of them? Someone certainly should have found them by now. They had both been shouting; that should have drawn the attention of the inevitable Career pack One and Two would form. They would go after him and Johanna as early as they safely could. So, where were they? That had been a perfect opportunity. Johanna had been trapped. They were both weaponless. His guard had never been exactly down, but he had certainly been distracted.

Now that she's free of the pad, she feels contained. The energy pushing through her limbs makes her want to move and if she has to fashion a weapon out of a bannister, then she will tear it apart with her hands to make sure she can defend herself. She gestures to a hallway with her chin, the aggressive movement leading her as she takes the first of her free steps into the lavish hotel. Johanna kind of hopes that she comes across someone soon so she can take off their head.

It's beginning to be that kind of day. Fate willing, it'll be a Career. "He never gave any indication it'd be like this," she says, almost grinding out the words so they aren't captured by any lingering cameras. "I don't like this," she says, the bad feeling that's sat in the pit of her stomach is only getting worse as she sees more of this place. "Something's gone wrong."

Finnick fell in line behind Johann, echoing her steps, his body still thrumming with warning. The constant tension was one of the hardest parts about the Games, he thought. They taught you to fight, to find water, how to kill. They taught you to defend yourself, and how to avoid poison berries and how to fish so you could feed yourself. What they couldn't teach you was how your body was fraught with adrenaline the entire time you were in the arena, a constant fight-or-flight response that threatened to drive you crazy. (Or sometimes did, Finnick thought soberly.) Of course, they never really came down from that. Maybe it was because, in the Capitol, you were still always surrounded by enemies.

Finnick's eyes flitted back to Johanna when she began to speak again. Something was wrong. They both felt it.

"I'm not sure this is the arena," Finnick confessed. "I didn't come through a launchpad." And that was the hardest part. Which was worse: If this was the arena, or if it wasn't? And what did they do either way?

Follow Johanna, he figured. That was his only choice either way. They would try to get their bearings. Try to find Katniss. Try to stay alive.

She wishes she'd known that to begin with. That changes everything. She comes to a slow stop and starts to weigh everything in her head, wondering if this is the last straw and she's completely snapped and gone mad. How dreadfully cliche. She'd always moved past her games with a sleek fury that helped propel her through every year as a mentor, but furious people don't start to hallucinate when they ought to be in the arena. "Did the plan change? Maybe we were unnecessary," she says, but she's hesitant to say that both for her pride and her honest belief that without her, Finnick, and the other victors, there would be no plan.

"If we weren't needed, then where's Katniss?"

Maybe we were unnecessary. Maybe it was vanity, but that thought hadn't occurred to Finnick, and it made him want to freeze openly. Was that realistically possible? Had 13 tricked the victors, too? Made them think they were a part of something that they would report back to the Capitol a string of falsehoods? Had they been played as well? Had they been seen as expandable or just unworthy? Finnick's gut went cold at the thought. I can be trusted, he wanted to say. I have someone to protect, too. But the words were useless. (Just as useless as they were.)

It didn't help that it made him uncomfortable to be having this conversation where anyone could overhear them. If this was a test to see if they were looking at rebelling, well -- They were failing. Johanna hadn't said anything terribly explicit, but it was clear enough that they had been involved in something bigger than the Games. They were pinned either way, and that made his skin tight with irritation and impatience.

(Or, maybe this was the Games, and they were being paired off to see what they would do. He knew that a lot of people would enjoy seeing him and Johanna kill each other. They were both ranked high, and their makeshift friendship was well-documented by the tabloids of the Capitol.)

"All we can do is look for water, weapons, and Katniss," Finnick answered steadily; stick to the original plan. All three of those things were vital whether they were in the Games, had been tricked by the Capitol, or had been tricked by 13.

"Water ought to be an easy grab, we're apparently in the lap of luxury," she says with dismissive irritation, staring around her at the furniture and the wall decoration and the sick richness of it all. It makes her feel irate to her gut, the way the Capitol has an uncanny knack of making her feel. It burns in her, makes her want to hurt someone, but Finnick is an ally and one of her few friends.

He's one of the few people the Capitol could hurt to get to her and she's not sure she likes that. "Which way?" she finally asks, resigning herself to his plan -- for now.

"Unless they've done something to it," he commented. Of course a regular hotel would have water faucets, baths; it should theoretically be easier to find water in this arena than any others. But it was easy enough not to turn on the water -- to maybe not install any of those futures. And that was of course assuming that they didn't tamper with the water supply itself. It could be poisoned; although, if this was the arena, that would be too quick of a way to kill most of them. But there were hallucinogens, and other ways that they could be put at a disadvantage merely by providing an easy water supply.

"Let's establish a perimeter of the ground floor first," Finnick said. The lobby to the hotel had been massive, and it seemed as if they were multiple rooms branching off of it. They needed to have a good mental map of where they were and assess if they were any weapons to be had and if there were any other people, or signs that people had been there.

"Keep moving left, and we'll go from room to room, right?" Finnick said, nodding at her. He added belatedly, "I've got your back."

He knew that she probably didn't need the reassurance, and maybe wouldn't even appreciate anything that made her seem like she needed his help, but he wanted her to know that he was there for her. He wasn't going to desert her, and he certainly wasn't going to betray her.

That sick feeling in her stomach twists and grips her harder than before. Thinking of a tainted water supply, a maze-like arena, and no knowledge of where the other victors are makes her feel wildly out of control, like she's spinning without a way to stop. "We need weapons," she gets out beyond her ground teeth. She'll wear them down quickly at the rate she's going, but they were promised their weapons, were guaranteed help in the arena. "Fine," she belatedly replies, though it's with a huff. "Room to room."

She keeps to the wall as she sets out for one of the paths that winds off, gripping her fingers tight into her palm. Fists and fury might not go very far, but it'll do for the time being.

"If there's no weapons, this isn't the arena," Finnick said. It was, at best, a guess. But he felt it was a good guess. It was one thing to go without a cornucopia. But it was another entirely to cut out sponsors -- and he felt that was what would have to happen in order for Johanna not to have an axe and Finnick not to have a trident. Otherwise, that would be the first things the sponsors would buy for them.

Finnick watched the steady line of Johanna's back, following her steadily. He listened carefully the entire time they walked. But there didn't seem to be anything to indicate that this was anything other than a hotel.

Every inch of this, she hates. She hates the not knowing, hates the fear that claws at her and makes her feel different. She hates that it's only her and Finnick and while the revolution has never been her little pet project, she does hate the idea of the Capitol winning. Johanna would do anything to avoid giving them that kind of victory. "And if this isn't the arena, then where are we?" she asks, tapping a one and a three against her thigh just in case someone's listening in.

Maybe it is District Thirteen after all and their humble, hospitable greeters are late.

Katniss hears her before she sees her. She's always been light on her feet, has always had a hunter's tread and Johanna is someone she can hear easily. Is this a trick?

There's nothing to indicate the hotel is anything but a hotel but Katniss doesn't trust anything easy. If this is a Capitol trick, they're not going to lull her into security and make her feel safe just to catch her by surprise.

"Johanna? Is that you? Is anyone with you?"

Where are they if they're not in the arena? Finnick has no idea. It's harder to tell if the potential wheres are more dangerous than the potential whys.

He's not sure what he's going to say, but he doesn't get a chance before a familiar voice says Johanna's name. Finnick actually freezes for a moment, surprised as he is he to hear Katniss. She's alive, and that's something he figures. If the three of them are here, this probably is the Games, he thinks -- unless something has changed incredibly drastically. (Unless they got them out before the Games, but why bother sticking them in this weird hotel without explaining anything?) He likes to think it's a good sign that they're with Katniss.

But that doesn't mean that she isn't about to kill them. It was going to be hard enough to convince her to team up with one of them, and now it's the two of them, surely a noteworthy threat. (It is strange that she called Johanna's name so calmly, wasn't it? If he remembered correctly, Johanna and Katniss had gotten along even worse than Katnissn and him.) He hopes that they're not about to get arrows in the threat. He inches in front of Johanna, trying to cover as many open space as possible. He expects Johanna will throttle him for this later, but that's something he's willing to accept.

"Katniss," he answers, holds up the arm that has the golden bracelet on it toward the direction her voice was coming from. Their only choice. (He hates this slow stand-off. There's nothing he can actually say to make her trust them, and she's too suspicious anyway.) "It's Finnick."

Johanna watches the glint of light off the golden bangle on Finnick's wrist, wondering if a little trinket is going to end up saving their lives. She can feel the muscles in her body coiling and tensing as if she has to be ready to escape in the event Katniss tries to attack them. It'd be so much easier if they could trust her to keep her damn mouth shut and not act like something is going on, but surprise, surprise, they have to make accommodations.

Her jaw clicks once (just once) when Finnick moves in front of her. He's lucky she isn't armed because the hilt of an axe was nearly in one of his orifices, but Annie probably wouldn't like that and maybe, just maybe, Johanna holds some shreds of sympathy for the two of them. Maybe. "Have you seen anyone else?" she demands of Katniss, wanting to make sure they're protected before they have this little chat.

"Nobody I recognize. Nobody who looks like a tribute. There's no weapons in here," Katniss says. She's wary. It's all too easy to be lulled in by something soft and sweet like this hotel and there's been very little in her life that was either of those things. This hotel is some kind of carefully-calculated Capitol plot, set to explode when she least expects it. Except, this time around, Katniss is going to be suspicious of everything.

"I drank some of the water. I haven't died yet but I can't guarantee that it's safe, only that it isn't fast acting or obvious."

Finnick can hear Johanna's jaw click into place the moment he steps in front of her. If there were different circumstances, he would grin, amused by her obvious irritation. As it is, he decides not to goad her -- even not facing him, he suspects she'd be able to tell.

He can't help but be surprised when Katniss openly answers Johanna's question, no biting sarcasm, no surly undertone -- just an apparently honest answer. He frowns a little.

"I didn't know you get along," he murmurs to Johanna.

It is good to hear that the water is safe, probably. Unless it is poisoned and Katniss is planning on taking them both out with it. He shuts down that train of thought. If they're going to get her to trust them, they need to trust her in return. (It's hard though when Finnick has made an entire lifetime out of not trusting anybody besides Annie and Mags.)

"Are you all right?" Finnick asks finally, hoping that she'll decide to just walk toward them. It would make him feel better if she was actually in their line of sight.

"I missed that friendship bracelet too," Johanna replies, arching her brow when Katniss doesn't seem to push back the way she had in those first few days together in the Capitol. Maybe they're learning and growing. Well, maybe Katniss is. Johanna hasn't changed an inch, certainly hasn't grown as a person and if she even begins to think she's softened, she'll take herself to a stone like she's a dull blade.

She waits expectantly for Katniss to determine what happens next. She has her orders and she'll follow them, but she's not going to walk into this blind. Precaution is the way to go.

"Fine, except for the part where Johanna hit me in the head and left me. That's the last thing I remember...but since you haven't tried to kill me yet and you're with Finnick, I'm trying to give you the benefit of a doubt."

Katniss presses her lips together and tries to decide which way to go from here. There's no weapons in this hotel and while there are other people, nobody has seemed hostile or seemed like they were up to something. Some of the people she's passed while looking for Peeta have been pleasant, even, but Katniss isn't interested in pleasantries.

"If it is a trick, it's a good one. I don't think we should split up just yet."

"Haymitch gave it to me," Finnick answers in return. "With the hope that she wouldn't put an arrow in my chest." He had anticipated that Haymitch would send one to Johanna too, though. It was so difficult to pass information along though when they were all being watched; maybe something had gone wrong though.

His concern over the bracelet and Johanna's lack thereof is fleeting though when Katniss answers. Finnick also frowns, glancing over his shoulder at Johanna, checking to make sure that she is just as confused as he is.

Everything Katniss is saying might as well have been a different language; Johanna certainly hasn't had the opportunity to attack Katniss yet -- and he hadn't anticipated the bracelet being enough for Katniss to immediately trust him, or anyone he's with.

"Something's not right," Finnick murmurs to Joahnna, aware that that was already abundantly obvious. "Maybe it's not her," Finnick adds a moment later. They haven't seen her yet.

It is a good trick, Finnick thinks. There are ways that the Capitol can mimic people's voices. Maybe this is something to lull them into a false sense of security.

"Katniss, I'm going to walk toward you," Finnick says finally. All of his well-honed instincts are telling him not to do that, but he doesn't know what else to do at this point.

"Finnick," Johanna warns, his name turning into a two-syllable song of warning, as if she honestly can't believe how stupid he's acting. Sure, they all have moments when they're not at their best, but this is kind of up there when it comes to being a complete fool. The whole time, Johanna doesn't take her eyes off of Katniss, thinking that yes, she would knock Katniss out, and had to if their plan was going to work. "If it's not her," she says, weight forward on her feet so she can get between them if she has to, "then think about who it could be," she warns.

"Look, I'm not armed," Katniss says, spreading her hands wide. "And we all know I'm no good without a weapon. I haven't offered you anything to eat and the only thing I've had to drink was the water - I'm not Snow. I can't lie and I'm not going to drink poison just to do the two of you in and hope I survive. I don't know where we are or where Peeta is or when the Capitol is going to throw something at us but for right this minute, I'm not a threat to you. I can be an ally."

Finnick knows perfectly well who they're dealing with if this isn't Katniss. Thirteen wouldn't bother tricking them like this. He gets the sense that they would just be killed. Probably just left in the arena, if they want to tie up some loose ends. They wouldn't need to do this -- but it would be in Snow's interest, without any doubt, to pull a stunt like this.

He smiles at Johanna over his shoulder, with his usual over-the-top charm, even though he knows it will only irritate her. Maybe that's why he does. That's a distraction of its own kind, right?

Finnick spreads his own arms in return, mimicking Katniss' stance. He closes the distance between them in a few short strides, and she looks like herself, he thinks. Like the girl who came out of the arena last year. He forgets just how young she is sometimes, that he was once that young, too.

"I'm not armed either," he answers. This was good, he figures. They're talking. She says she wants an alliance. This was what they wanted. Except for the part where none of them know where they are.

"Did you come up on a launch pads?" he asks finally. "Where was the last place you were before you entered the hotel?"

She hates that smile. There are so many things that Johanna hates (chief among them being Snow and these Games and the Capitol), but false charming smiles that Finnick has in spades. She wonders what he must have to think of in order to get people to believe him like that. Johanna's patience is quickly running short and every moment that passes is one they could be doing something. "Are we seriously going to stand around talking like this?"

"We should try to figure out how the Capitol is planning to kill us," Katniss decides, setting her jaw. "And we should find weapons. There has to be something we can use in here even if it's not what we prefer."

Still, it just...it doesn't have the aura of sickly-sweet that the Capitol does, the air of it being too good to be true. It's just quiet and normal and Katniss wonders what that means.

"Let's keep moving about," Finnick agrees. He doesn't know if that will necessarily make them safer. This is a difficult arena. They are almost always exposed in some way. There are tons of hiding places. But it is a good idea for them to have a better idea of the layout of the hotel and to see if there are any weapons.

Finnick couldn't help but laugh when Katniss asked how the Capitol was trying to kill them.

"Sweetheart" he drawls. "They want us to kill each other. It's less messy that way for them." Snow didn't mind getting his hands dirty, but he preferred to obscure it as much as possible. Why get the blame for massacring some victors when they would readily do it themselves? He can only imagine how the Capitol would react if Katniss and Johanna got into a fight right off the bat.

Johanna gives Katniss a look that's hungry, one that says if they weren't in this alliance to rebel against the Capitol, she'd be more than happy to do exactly as Finnick describes. Sure, she might feel an itsy bit bad about it, but she's sure that would pass quickly enough. "It's a shame I feel like making a mess," she says flippantly, raising herself up to full posture as she keeps her attention on this strange arena around them. "As soon as I get my hands on something sharp, that is."

"If you want to go it alone, kill me right now," Katniss says defiantly. "There's no cover here and this isn't how I'm best in a fight. I can't pick you off from a distance. So just do it."

She shrugs slightly. "Or we can try to kill them instead."

Finnick suppresses a smile as Johanna purposefully goads Katniss. It is far too easy in many ways -- which is probably why he needed a bracelet just to prove that he could be trusted.

Still, probably not the best time for Katniss and Johanna to decide to get into a fight; that's something he has little interesting in seeing, because he suspects it would be the most violent thing he's ever seen and wouldn't end well for him. (And it doesn't help that Katniss' openly rebellious talk still sets him a bit on edge. There's no doubt that if they're in the arena, they've been found out by now. They've all been far too obvious. But he'd prefer to play the part a bit longer, until they have a better idea of where they are.)

"Ladies," he says, all bright smile and charm that would work on almost every other person except, he thinks, for the two women he's actually with. He rests a hand on each of their arms as he guides them forward. "Why don't we sort out where we are and leave the blood baths for later?"

It's a shame that Finnick occasionally has to be so reserved and so calm, because Johanna could really go for sticking something sharp in something living about now, just to take an edge off the lack of control she's been feeling since she showed up in this place. Still, staying alive would be a nice change. She turns on a switch, flashing Katniss and Finnick both a charming smile meant to win over victors and sponsors both (and it carries just the barest hint of that innocent little waif she'd pretended to be all those years ago). "For now," she agrees sweetly.

"For now," Katniss agrees. She's not very good at being charming. Half the time anyone liked her, it had been solely because of Peeta. Peeta's act was very good and Katniss thinks that's mostly because it hadn't been an act for him. Everything Peeta feels for her is the real thing, as scary as it is.

"We need to secure somewhere to sleep, somewhere that we can guard easily."

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