Sea Salt and Murder (Finnick Odair x OC)

Chapter 2 - The Train

The food on the train is glorious. It makes you want to stuff your face until you feel full and then eat some more just for kicks. On the table are stacks of white loaves, the kind of bread that you have to pay quite a bit more for in district four. Along with it are curries and chicken that you can smell from miles away and sweet potatoes with a generous amount of brown sugar and butter packed inside. I sit down and grab one of those, they look delicious.

Maddox sits next to me with a tear stained face. He's been crying. Not that I expected any different. The only tributes who don't cry are the volunteers from one and two, and sometimes a stray volunteer from four. Really, what sane person wouldn't be crying.

Mags slowly walks into the room with a gentle smile. She has a notepad in her grasp. The woman is not quite what you'd consider old, but she's got wrinkles from decades of stress. I'm sure the job she does is tiring.

Finnick is the only victor in a while to have won the games and stayed friendly afterwards it seems. They seem close from afar, but I wonder just how deep that connection runs. Finnick's family is gone now, they died in an accident when he had just turned sixteen. Last year's reaping he did not smile.

Finnick enters the room, then. He offers a toothy grin, the kind that makes the women–and men–in the Capital faint and cry, but you and Maddox just stare with a matching lack of emotion.

"Oh, cheer up. I know this sucks but the food doesn't and you've got plenty of time to sulk later," he says, almost giggling to himself. At least he's honest.

"This doesn't just suck, we're going to die!" Maddox exclaims, getting upset. Finnick knows. His bright smile drops to a soft upturn in his lips.

"Speak for yourself," I mumble, but it catches in both of their ears. Finnick's smile grows again.

"I like your spirit," he gestures with a finger gun.

"Yeah well I think her 'spirit' is gonna get her killed in a more painful way than me, and it's stupid. We might as well give up now and get it over with. There's no escape...Gem," Maddock disagrees. No way he just used my dad's nickname for me as a taunt. Jerk.

"Oh, don't you dare call me that or you'll regret it," I laugh angrily.

"Gem," he mumbles. I stand up with a start, the serrated blade made to cut the chicken in my hand. The chair behind me gives a stressed scraping noise across the floor of the train.

"If I was allowed to harm you before the arena, you'd be eating those words right now, asshole!"

Finnick just laughs. His eyes dart to the knife in my hand. Mags looks indifferent but her friendly smile is gone now. I inhale a shaky deep breath and sit down, placing the knife soundlessly on the table, giving an eye roll and crossing my arms. Finnick picks up his own knife, spinning it like a toy. Not very well, but enough to show that he's not put off by my outburst.

"You even know how to use one of these, Gem?" It's annoying and I glare, but let it slide. That's my dad's thing, nobody else's.

"Somewhat, a spear would be better though. I've scaled a lot of fish in my time, and thrown a couple knives while spearfishing," I admit through gritted teeth. I'm sure he knows already. We're in the same year in school, he knows I'm the hunter that sells to the baker. Go figure I know how to throw a spear.

"Double skills means higher training score, don't take that for granted," he lets on, turning to Maddock's still pale face. "What about you, since you've given up already. Got anything good for the table?"

"I um...I can use a knife pretty well. And a shovel? I guess? I garden with my mom all the time so I know what plants are edible," he shrugs. He seems unconfident and shy in all areas except plants. Again, go figure.

"That's not terrible, you know. Lots of tributes come onto this train with nothing. You've both got somewhere to begin. That's a big advantage." He goes quiet, thinking about what to say next. "You," he gestures to me, "focus on survival and knife throwing in training, hold your spear abilities as a secret, it's a valuable secret weapon you've got there, I should know."

He turns to Maddock, again thinking. I can almost hear the gears turning. Finnick's not just a pretty face, but a smart guy. It's crazy how that can get so overlooked, he won for goodness' sake. "You need to focus on something new weapon wise. You're a pretty big guy for your age, so try something that can use that strength. Maybe swords or an axe. Otherwise, if you could get along for a second, you could throw knives together. Put that plant identification to use and get familiar with the vegetation of the arena. Let's hope for your sake that it's not a desert."

Finnick sits down, then, and begins to eat his food alongside Mags. I decide to follow his example, diving into the first curry. It's a good combination of savory and sweet with a hint of spice that leaves a gentle burn on the tip of my tongue. Maddock seems to catch the hint and relaxes back into his chair, picking up his fork too.

I take another deep breath. It's a strangely peaceful moment, like the calm before a storm. The storm that is the upcoming tribute parade.

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