![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
[She's in a rage the moment she's conscious and aware of her position, banging and kicking at the glass of the room in retaliation, as if her anger alone could makes the walls crack, shatter and come crashing down around them. No such luck, but it's better than pacing, admitting she's an animal stuck in a trap.
Her knuckles are bruised and bleeding before she's finally calm enough to acknowledge Finnick, teeth gritted and she reluctantly turns to face him - fellow victor, ally. Opponent. Friend.
This wasn't how it was supposed to go, but there's a bitter smile on her face as she backs as far away from as she can get from the poison and knife on the floor, from Finnick. She's not afraid of him, not yet. More of what she'll do to him if given half a chance.]
So. [A beat.] Any miraculous ideas for escape?
They've got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I... - Post a comment
Well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it quick.