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Between the bees and the arrival of the bread, his trident and, well, Effie, Finnick's more than a little on edge. And he's always a bit on edge, because he's been taught to never have his guard down, to never fully let himself relax.
But it's different today, when he finds himself all but screaming at some poor cashier who's made the mistake of calling him sweetheart, because all he can hear is the whispering of anything-but-sweet nothings, feel the gaze of people who never need ask before they took all he had.
He could kill them, he knows, he could kill everyone in the damn store and flee for the countryside but this is Darrow and they'd catch him sooner or later, but he's not a killer anymore that's what they made him and goddammit, he's better than the worst thing he ever did.
Throwing down some notes and grabbing his groceries, Finnick doesn't bother to wait for his change. He just utters something like an apology and races out, hating himself, hating how fast his heart is racing, hating how much the Capitol has fucked him up.
But it's different today, when he finds himself all but screaming at some poor cashier who's made the mistake of calling him sweetheart, because all he can hear is the whispering of anything-but-sweet nothings, feel the gaze of people who never need ask before they took all he had.
He could kill them, he knows, he could kill everyone in the damn store and flee for the countryside but this is Darrow and they'd catch him sooner or later, but he's not a killer anymore that's what they made him and goddammit, he's better than the worst thing he ever did.
Throwing down some notes and grabbing his groceries, Finnick doesn't bother to wait for his change. He just utters something like an apology and races out, hating himself, hating how fast his heart is racing, hating how much the Capitol has fucked him up.
