"after all these years, isn't it strange that we haven't managed to have a proper conversation?"
"well, my lucks gotta run out at some point."
finnick o'dair x fem!oc
"the rumours are terrible and cruel but honey most of them are true." — taylor swift, new romantics
word count: 4.6k
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Time had always been a strange concept in the Capitol.
Dahlia had attended three parties and seen eight clients in the two days following her date with Finnick. There appeared to be a heightened appeal for her services and she tried to push her way through the days without thinking about it.
Needles to say, she was exhausted.
The first thing she registered as she woke up was the cologne that clung to her pillows. She groggily propped herself up on her elbows and tried to prevent the scent of musk and pine from infiltrating her senses.
Light was creeping in through the curtains of her hotel room and if she had to guess, it was about eleven in the morning. She blindly felt around on the bedside locker until her hands were enclosed around the wad of cash that last night's client had left.
Her stomach churned as she tossed the money into her purse and swung her legs over the side of the bed.
She rubbed her knuckles into her eyes to rid them of sleep and when she blinked, an ivory piece of paper caught her attention. Reaching across for the letter, she flipped it around and read it.
Malaki had organised a breakfast meeting for half past twelve in Finnick's room and according to the note, both their prep teams would be attending too. The alarm clock on the locker flashed 11:15 and after trying to talk herself out of it for ten minutes, she finally gave in and headed for the en-suite bathroom.
She peeled off her oversized shirt and twisted the knob for the shower. Steam took over the curves of her body as she stepped under the stream of warm water.
She curled up in a ball on the floor, her hands locked securely around her knees as the water beat steadily against her back.
The recent events of the week had taken their toll on her and she was glad of the distraction. It was a relief to do nothing for once. She was tired of having so many responsibilities weighing on her shoulders.
She lathered her hair in coconut-scented shampoo and threaded her fingers through the knots at the ends. Once the products were rinsed out and there were no suds remaining, she hopped out of the shower. She tied a bathrobe around her body and the dregs of water gurgled down the drain.
By the time half past twelve rolled around, she had dried the majority of dampness from her hair and pulled a pair of navy jeans over her hips. She wrapped a hand-knitted cardigan over her sports bra. Her hands were shaking again as she made a start on her hair; she ended up securing it with a claw clip and hoping for the best.
