COMING CLEAN - finnick odair

FOUR.

Dahlia crept down the hallway five minutes before they were scheduled to meet. Bloom had never been a morning person and Malaki would be coaxing her out of bed with the day wine by now.

She hesitated at the door and scuffed the ends of her shoes into the carpet. She did not want to be stuck alone in a hotel room with Finnick and his team, but she didn't suppose she had a choice.

She rapped her knuckles against the wooden door and rocked back and forth on the balls of her feet as she waited for someone to answer.

She could hear shuffling and chatter from behind the door and Finnick grinned down at her as it swung open. There were dark circles underneath his eyes and she could feel her chest constrict with pity.

It seemed like she wasn't the only one to receive a spike in demand.

It was as if she was operating on autopilot as she walked into his apartment, her arms protectively crossed over her chest.

Everybody was crowded around a large table at the end of the room and her stomach twisted into knots of anxiety.

She tentatively inched her way towards the table and took the seat closest to Malaki, who was already in the process of buttering a bread roll for her. He nudged it towards her to try and encourage her to eat, but even the sight of it made her feel physically ill.

He frowned disapprovingly but kept his thoughts to himself.

Cordelia, district four's escort, introduced herself and extended a diamond-clad hand for her to shake. She must have been in her early thirties but she had dyed her hair a peculiar shade of silver. Cordelia was stout with colour in her cheeks and an award-winning smile. She was pretty, Dahlia thought.

Caspian, the stylist of district four, picked away at the breakfast buffet as if he wanted to be anywhere but here — she knew the feeling. He was quite pale with sunken cheekbones and he reminded her of River in the sense that it felt like he was looking right through your soul.

"Shall we get started?" Bloom popped open a bottle of bubbly and filled her glass to the top. Nobody was fazed by her early drinking; they were in the Capitol, after all. "We're on a tight schedule today," she checked her watch to punctuate her point and Dahlia fought the urge to roll her eyes.

Malaki leaned back in his chair and clasped his hands in front of him. "Cordelia and I have called this meeting because we need everyone to be on the same page in terms of our next moves. President Snow thinks that we've kept the public waiting long enough and he wants us to prepare a statement to confirm that you are dating."

Dahlia had slipped away before he had finished his sentence. His voice was vaguely breaking through into her subconscious, no matter how hard she tried to block it out. A warm hand wrapped around her wrist and somewhere in the back of her mind, she registered it as being Bloom; her stylist was the only person in the world who had a grip that strong and reassuring at the same time.

She didn't want to come back to the real world. The real world was daunting and terrifying and it asked too much of her. When she was pulled into her own head, it was soft and calm and she could breathe again.

By the time Dahlia came back to her body, Bloom was tracing patterns along the palm of her hand and even with her eyes closed, she could feel Finnick's concerned gaze burning a hole through the side of her head.