"Humanity desires entertainment to remain pacified- television, parties, gossip magazines, literature. They are useful devices, when regulated." Snow watches me, interpreting my silence as disagreement. "You do not agree." He states.
"Literature ha...
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She pauses by the doorway of the independent study, gaze lingering on me for an exaggerated moment. I pretend to not notice her presence, pressing my face further into my novel as if completely absorbed in the contents. Finally, she speaks up. "You look happy," she says observantly. There's a hint of relief in her tone.
I look up, meeting my mother's eyes easily. "Do I?"
She nods her head, seeming to tread carefully. "Yeah. It's nice." Then, she turns and moves on, footsteps growing quieter as she disappears further into the house.
--
"And... stop."
He keeps pouring.
"Finnick!" I say, reaching out to grab his wrist. He laughs as he pulls away from my grasp, spreading flour across the floor from the bag as he twists out of my reach and slides around to the other side of the counter. "Look at the mess you're making! There are rules to baking, and you're completely ignoring me!"
"Rules are made to be broken, Reverie," he insists, grinning over at me from across the island. I glare at him, crossing my arms over my chest.
"You're making this harder than it needs to be," I frown. "This is gonna be the most mediocre batch of cookies and it's your fault." Finnick rolls his eyes.
"It's not a disaster. We can just double the recipe and give the majority to Springwood." He must notice the slight softening of my expression because he visibly seems triumphant. "I'm winning you over, aren't I?"
"No, I'm just thinking of ways to get rid of you in your sleep." I say moodily. Finnick snorts, setting the bag of flour onto the countertop.
"You would miss me," he says easily. I roll my eyes, huffing loudly.
"Unfortunately, you're right." I mumble as he comes over, letting him place his flour-dusted hands on my shoulders.
"Your eyes are red," he says observantly, leaning in closer to get a better look. "You sleep alright last night?"
"A bit," I answer, averting my eyes. Something about meeting Finnick's concerned green gaze would make me overshare in an instant, and I needed to keep up the façade. "It's okay, I was planning on trying when I go home."
Finnick makes a low sound of acknowledgement. "And is that the truth?" I pause, inhaling deeply as I weigh the pros and cons of admitting my faults to him. Something about his ability to read me with increasing speed and precision is terrible, but also relieving. I don't have to lie to everyone; I don't have to lie to someone.
