"a big part of who i am is who i am not."
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in which grey spectral was a name finnick odair had long forgotten until the 75th hunger games.
[catching fire - mockingjay]
[a grey spectral stand alone]
[plot belongs to @mikaeIsons]
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"I believe we are done here." The woman spoke as she stood from the bed and picked up her various items of clothing from the floor.
She just wanted to go home and shower for the next ten years.
The man smirked at her in a way that made her skin crawl.
"I believe so." He mused, "What would you like in return?"
The twenty-four year old pulled the expensive material of her shirt back over her torso before she looked over her shoulder at the much older man.
"A secret." She responded, her head tilted slightly as she gauged his expression.
The man hesitated, his smirk faltering slightly.
"A secret?" He questioned skeptically.
The blonde turned around and looked at the older man.
"Yes." She replied, "You tell me your deepest, darkest secret, or I tell President Snow that one of his clients is refusing to pay for the pleasure of one of his most valuable victors' company."
The man gulped nervously causing a smirk to appear on the victor's blood red lips as she watched him closely, amusement clear in her haunted eyes.
"Okay, okay."
"Good." Grey murmured as she pulled her trousers up her long legs.
She shrugged her jacket over her shoulders as she leaned over the man who was still lying in the bed, under the silk sheets.
"Now what is your secret, Mr. Frill?" She asked in a husky voice.
✦❀✦
Blue eyes snapped open and the blonde took in her surroundings warily, her hand itching to grab the knife that was on the table by her bed.
Her eyes scanned the room briefly, looking for any signs of danger.
"You're not in the arena anymore." She scolded herself.
She swung herself up into sitting position and heaved herself out of bed, flinching as her bare feet hit the cold tiles, though she shrugged it off as she grabbed her wool sweater and headed out of her room and downstairs after she pulled the warm fabric over her head, her pale arms now shielded from the cold air that was previously nipping at her exposed arms.
She made her way into the kitchen where her mother stood, standing at the island bench, chopping up some vegetables.
It made her sick whenever she walked into her house and saw how much she owned and how little the other people in her District had.
"Morning, sweetheart." Edythe greeted brightly, "Did you sleep well? You didn't get in until late last night."
