Chapter Text
As soon as my trident pierces through the last tribute standing, the loud boom of the cannon goes off. It is quickly followed by the trumpets of victory resonating through the entire arena. Blood flows in my right eye, forcing me to close it as I let myself fall down on the ground. I surely had an easier time winning than most of those before me, but that last career girl from one did put up a great fight. She managed to give me a straight cut over the eyebrow and a few good punches and kicks that make my ribs terribly painful. A minute after Claudius Templesmith announced my name as the winner of the 65th Hunger Games, an Hovercraft appears over my head. The gigantic shadow it casts over my body makes me shiver. My skin has gotten used to the burning rays of the sun in this overwhelmingly hot arena. A long rope falls next to me and I wait a moment before grabbing it. I suppose the girl hit me harder than I thought. My muscles all feel sore, and I am craving for some sleep.
I finally get back on my feet and climb up. I stop eventually as I notice the rope moving on it’s on. They’re basically dragging me, and I struggle with my grasp on the cord, my arms hurting like hell. When the Hovercraft’s trapdoor closes, my legs feel weak, and I decide to just lay down for a moment. Despite all the sponsors and the help, the fight alongside the crazy temperature really enervated my body. Before I can decide to sit up or move, people who seem to be doctors of some sort lift me up and bring me to a room filled with medical equipment. Although I am definitely not suffering much, they put me under anaesthesia. I barely have time to feel the needle sinking into my skin before everything fades to black.
My eyes open slowly, dispelling the sleepiness as my vision accustoms to the lights around me. I do have to blink a few times though, until I can finally sit up. My body still feels slightly heavy. I yawn loudly, looking around, in hopes of some human life. No one. I would have expected some better and warmer welcome for a freshly winning victor.
« Hello? »
I call calmly, cocking an eyebrow. I jump off the little bed I was installed on, stretching my aching limbs. I approach the only door of the room but before my hand even reaches the handle, it opens abruptly. Thanks god I react fast because otherwise it would have hit me right in the nose. The woman, who is without the shadow of a doubt from the Capitol (she’s wearing one of these colourful wigs), who made her way in so violently, stops. When she finally realises who I am, she smiles with all her teeth.
« Our new Victor! »
She squeals, hugging me tightly without warning. I may have been healed by the best doctors in the country, my body is still recovering from the hits I received from the careers who were strong enough to fight back. I growl at the small pain this unwanted physical contact inflicts on me and she takes a step back.
« Everyone is so excited to see you Finnick! »
Her voice is truly insufferable. It’s so high-pitched I wonder if she had surgery to make it sound like that. I give her a small, as charming as it can be, smirk and that’s all it takes for her to turn red. Ugh. How can these women even live with themselves. She rotates and walks back into the corridor she busted from, ordering me softly to stay here. I obey, playing distractedly with the laces of my shorts. She comes back with Mags and for the first time in days I let out a sigh of relief. I cannot hold myself back and I run to her. I throw myself onto her, burying my face into her grey hair. I inhale her familiar smell. I close my eyes and I see home. I imagine the sea and the sound of the waves battling the rocks and the screams of seagulls. I smile, my fingers desperately holding onto the old woman who has been a mother to me since I stepped on the train. I wonder if things will stay the same once we’re home.
She pats my hair gently and I detach myself from her. She caresses my cheek and then, she kisses me. It’s a warm and maternal kiss. We let our foreheads touch for a while. The Capitol woman is staring but neither of us care. I missed her. She never doubted I could win, but Mags had been worried of course. As any mentor who cares for their tribute would.
« I knew you were a victor, Finnick. »
She declares with her strong accent. It’s always funny when she talks because most people don’t get a single word that escapes her mouth. She does have quite the complicated accent. I suspect she does it on purpose sometimes. I peck her on the forehead and turn to see Vasiliki, my stylist. He walks towards me in his usual broom up the ass way. He’s one great example of the two types of people you may find in the Capitol. The dumb ones who make your brain hurt just from talking. And the ones who are way too much. In every possible way. And Vasiliki is particularly too much in terms of narcissism. Today, he wears his green and purple hair slicked back, with a suit all glittery, bicoloured, of course matching his hair. I find it highly ugly but whatever floats your boat. Who am I to judge.
« You can say thank you to my artistic talents my dear. »
His long fingers caress my biceps slowly, a weird, perverted smile on his lips.
« All these sponsors were blown away by my remarkable work, I’m sure. »
Oh yeah… Totally not because I’m a great fighter. Or that I have nice eyes or a pretty smile. It’s definitely the terrible looking wave wannabe outfit that got me safe and sound. I would love to laugh in his face, but I restrain myself. Displaying my most authentic grin, I shake his hand.
« You’re right Vasiliki. It’s all thanks to you. »
Anyone from district four would have discerned the sarcastic undertone in my voice but I suppose the Capitol citizens are not known for how bright they are. He nods with satisfaction and turns around, mumbling happily to himself. I roll my eyes, annoyed by the idiots surrounding me. It’s honestly scary to think these people are the most privileged of us all.
I follow the yet to be named woman in another corridor and another. I end up joining Vasiliki again and my preparation team is here as well. I did not miss these guys. I hate how they touch me and how they stare at my body. Mags is forced to leave me to them, and I try to think of home while they undress me. I hate being naked. I must say district 4 is not one where we spend most of our time with tones of clothes on. But still. I'd rather have boxers on. Instead, I’m here butt naked in front of these four people discussing my skin, my muscles and hairs. Of course, they’re gonna depilate me. They look horrified just at the sight of unshaved legs, yet they don’t flinch at kids being decapitated. Make it make sense. Capitol folks hate hairs. I’m forcefully laid down on a table and they begin their work.
I close my eyes. I feel the salted air on my tongue as I imagine home. The feeling of the cold water on your skin. How your feet sink into the wet sand. I miss it so much. I can’t wait to go back. It feels like forever has passed when they finally free me. The stylist congratulates the team while picking some clothes for me. He delicately puts boxers and a strangely shaped textile that resembles trousers next to me.
« The hell is that? »
I ask, surprised by the looks of what I’m supposed to wear. Not to mention there’s not a top in sight.
« What you’ll wear for tonight’s interview. »
He answers, in a tone made to make me understand that the question is bothering him with how stupid it is.
« Yeah, I figured but what is it? »
I grab it and play with the strange texture of the fabric for a moment, brows furrowed. I hate it. It’s gonna be tight. He’s gonna play with my charm again. I thought we’d be done once I would have won but apparently, I was wrong. I feel a bit dumb for being so gullible, but I had other problems to focus on, like my quite obivous imminent death.
« Well darling we need to keep your fans happy, don’t we? What’s better than some… - he seems to be looking for the right word. He knows I might get offended. - revealing outfit? It'd be a shame to hide something so pretty!»
I can’t bring myself to answer because I know that if I do, I’ll get reprimanded for it. I wish I could ask them to turn around while I try it on, but they’ve seen every part of me in every possible angle, so I suppose it’s useless. I put on the new boxers and the super tight… Trousers-shorts or whatever it is meant to be. It looks more like a trash bag to be entirely fair. The fabric sticks to my skin, and it’s rather short, just above my knees. The muscles on my thighs stand out. If only it was the only thing that was noticeable. I know damn well what Vasiliki was trying to show off. I look over at him, waiting for approval. The team murmurs to one another, giving their opinions, pointing at my lower body every once in a while. Eventually, the stylist takes a step in my direction, and he pushes the pants up a little bit. I want to escape his hold, but I can’t. I need to obey. My crotch feels oppressed in those nightmare of trousers.
« Quit moving Finnick. »
He groans, arranging the outfit in different ways. He does it for about ten minutes which feels like forever. His long fingers tickle my sides, and a few giggles escape my lips. I can see his brows furrowing each time as if he thought I was mocking him.
« Alright this will do. »
Finally. I rotate to look at myself in a mirror. Had I been naked it would have been better honestly. The skin-tight fabric is itchy, and I absolutely hate the colour. Nonetheless, I force a smile on my face.
« Nice. Now where’s the top? »
They all chuckle as if I had said the stupidest thing they’d ever heard. I sigh, already knowing what’s gonna happen. I do allow myself to hope I’m wrong.
« What top love? We need to show off that strong victor’s body of yours! Especially now that the chirurgical team made it flawless. »
They all nod in agreement as I look at them over my shoulder in the mirror. I’ve been getting used to being half naked most of the time, especially in district 4, with the sea and all. But here it’s different. It’s not because it’s practical. It’s because it’ll please women. And God knows perhaps it’ll even please some men. But whatever, it truly displeases me because it’s for others. And I don’t exactly like being shown off like a piece of meat. Sadly, as much as I hate it, I don’t have a say in it. Vasiliki has decided I would show off my biceps and abs and so I would.
I just made it out of an arena filled with kids who wanted me dead, and I still have to endure the horrible choices of that moron to keep the show going. By staring a little more, I notice that the trousers are supposed to remind people of those old trousers sailors wear in boats, in a slightly richer way, with gems incrusted on the side. I can’t stop the laughter from escaping my lips. I try to cover it by coughing a bit and thankfully, either they fell for it or didn’t hear at all.
After an hour of battling, Mags does manage to force them to give me something to put on my upper body, but Vasiliki goes for a semi-transparent open shirt with a long collar, so it doesn’t change much. Now I’m standing awkwardly on a platform, waiting to rise up on stage, to see a hoard of people screaming my name because I successfully killed twenty-three other kids. Not that I’m mad about it. I do feel guilty about some of them who felt like trapped fish and scared turtles. But for the others, the stronger ones I only feel pride. I’m only 14. I’m pretty sure I’m one of the youngest winners of the games.
The platform suddenly moves, and I shake on my legs for a moment. Mags didn’t give me any instructions on what to say so I’m guessing we’re keeping the seductive strategy on. Up there, I’m immediately met with clapping and loud screams. Caesar Flickerman walks over to me and pats my back nicely. I don’t know if I like the guy or not. I know I don’t hate him. That’s a good start. He did help me get sponsors, much more than Vasiliki’s horrific work anyway.
« Ladies and gentlemen, let’s give our dear Finnick Odair, winner of the 65th Hunger Games, a new round of applause. »
He holds me by the shoulder, and I do the same, saluting the crowd with a big smile stuck to my lips. The trousers’ itchiness is driving me insane, but I keep up the act. We eventually sit down, Caesar in a nice-looking blue armchair that matches his hair and suit, me in a huge seat made specifically for victors.
« So Finnick, »
He begins, as the room goes silent. I can feel every single one of them hooked by the words that I’m about to pronounce. All eyes are on me. By all I mean all. The whole of Panem is definitely looking at me right now. I wonder how the families of the other tributes feel. It’s funny because I can’t think of anyone at home who would truly care about this interview. About me coming home.
« You’ve been well… everyone’s favourite -he giggles- since your very first appearance at your reaping. How do you feel about all this love? »
I don’t hesitate. Confidence is key.
« Oh, I’m so happy about it all. Sincerely. I never imagined I’d be so adored. But I feel very honoured. It’s good to know the Capitol appreciates me as much as I appreciate it. Especially the people. »
I wink at the audience, and I hear a bunch of people sighing in happiness. I still don’t understand why they’d assume it’d be for them. But as long as it works, I’ll keep it going.
« Ah that’s good to hear. – Caesar laughs with his unusually loud laugh -Now, you won your games thanks to a very special weapon, a trident right? »
« Yes. »
« And it was gifted by a sponsor if I’m not wrong. »
He declares in a way that would insinuate he wasn’t sure of what he’s saying when we both know he absolutely is.
« It was. »
« What would you like to say to this sponsor? May I remind the audience this was the most expensive gift in the history of the games! »
I clench my teeth. What would I like to say to this sponsor? I’d like to ask what they want in return because surely, they want something. They tried very desperately to keep me alive, it must be for a reason. But I can’t say that. Not now. I’m feeling cold now, with my chest uncovered. I attempt to cross my arms on my torso to protect it, but the pose makes me uncomfortable. Shivers threaten to betray my growing nervousness.
« Well Caesar, I think I’d like to thank them for helping me stay alive and that I shall not make them regret it. »
I let out a fake chuckle as I try to use my blushing young man performance, biting my bottom lip as I look into the camera. Flickerman’s excited laugh resonates through the room, and he pats my shoulder.
« Oooh Finnick you know you’re a great ladies man don’t you? »
« I sure hope to get on your level Caesar. »
I reply jokingly and the public guffaws. All types of weird sounding chuckles mix up in a scary cacophony that hurts my ears. I say nothing, continuingly displaying a large smile. It suddenly hits me how the most difficult part of the games is actually when you’re in the Capitol.
The interview goes on for a while and Caesar asks all types of questions, from my (ugly) outfit to Mags’s teaching. Eventually, a question that I was dreading arrives.
« Alright. Now last question Finnick. A bit personal – He turns to the audience, grinning slightly. - Such a handsome boy, you MUST have someone special back at home, don’t you? »
I giggle softly a moment, trying to buy more time for my mind to make up a nice lie. I don’t know how to put it in a correct sentence. I know my answer will cost me a lot if it’s not perfect.
« Well.. There’s no.. no. No there’s no special someone. Not yet. Maybe later. »
I immediately regret that. I know I have to keep acting as the Capitol’s little dog. I can’t be anyone’s boyfriend. I don’t want to be anyway.
« I mean. I don’t think I’ve ever met a district 4 girl that could compete with the women here. »
Nicely fixed my mistake. Some high-pitched voices scream in the audience and people laugh. My heart is beating fast, and I don’t know why. I think that for the first time, I realise what winning with my charms means. It means no love story. Ever. Because now I’m a mentor. And to get my tributes some help, I’ll surely have to use my charms again. It hits me like a peacekeeper’s truck, but I keep up the act. I’m used to it by now. Lying has become as essential and natural as breathing in this place.
Never stop pretending. Never drop the mask. People in the Captiol don’t want to know me they want to see a sexy young man from district 4. A Victor. Not a person. Especially not a teenager.
When the interview finally reaches its end, I bend down slightly in a pretty reverence, triggering a few howls from the crowd. I leave the stage and I immediately attack my trousers. I cannot bear to keep them on another minute. Vasiliki, walking up to me surely to compliment himself on how well his work looked on me, understands what I’m trying to do. His mouth forms a shocked “o”, his eyes reflecting his anger. I walk right past him, my fingers desperately pushing on the buttons keeping the fabric on my hips while I deliberately ignore his contestations. I eventually manage to open it and I struggle another good five minutes to take it off as it sticks to my skin.
I throw it to the ground angrily and run around in my boxers like a proper psycho. I want to escape; I want to make my way back to my room and sleep. I want to sleep so badly it hurts.
Before I can find the lift, I bump into Mags who looks at me up and down and catches my wrist to force me to follow her. She doesn’t say a word, so I decide to do the same, silently walking behind her. Together we get into the elevator and when the door closes, she leans on the wall.
For a moment, the only sound comes from the silly music of the lift wrapping us in a very awkward mood. I decide to break the silence first.
« Did I do well? »
Mags slowly glances at me, with her big eyes gazing into mine.
« You did what you could. For now, we can’t know exactly if your words were good enough. In my opinion they might have been, but who knows. I’m not President Snow. »
I nod. I don’t understand why she suddenly feels so cold to me. Was it all an act? I doubt it. She was really worried about me. Does she know something I don’t? Why President Snow specifically? This means nothing to him, doesn’t it? I’m just an insignificant Victor upon many others. Is she trying to protect herself by putting distance between us? No matter how many thoughts go through my head I do not voice any of them. I’m too tired to try and figure out this whole thing and simply move to my room like a robot programmed for it. I close my door behind me, praying for no one to knock on it in the next four hours. I throw myself on the bed and bury my face into the pillows. It’s soft against my skin and I roll up into a ball. Tomorrow, I’ll go home at last.
That night, I don’t even get up for dinner and nobody comes get me, so I just drift off to sleep. It’s agitated by nightmares though. I hear the cannon of the arena go off. The district one girl pushes me to the ground and holds me down, hitting me. She eventually stabs me and that’s when I wake up. I’m wet with sweat and a horrible migraine makes the room spin around me. My fingers are gripped to the sheets, my chest going up and down in rhythm with my troubled breathing. I bring my hands up to my face, rubbing my eyes softly.
Despite being very fast, the train ride feels like it takes weeks. Yet, in less than a night we’re back in district 4. I dress up simply, with a shirt which I force Vasiliki to let me button up and some comfortable shorts. I’m at the door when stress suddenly fills up my veins. My mind gets foggy, and my thoughts are not as clear as they were barely two minutes ago. I’m home but I’m not the person I was when I left. The doors open and the loud noises of the crowd fill up my already agitated mind. I am now completely overwhelmed by everything. I’m drowned in a sea of screams and applause, and I can hear my name alongside other words, which I can’t make any sense of.
I stagger down the little step and my heart beats as if it is about to explode. I can’t focus on anything or anyone, the crowd being full of different faces of people I barely know, constantly moving as they push one another to get a better look at their new victor. I don’t exactly know what to do so I do what I’ve been best at for the past weeks. I smile. I smile sweetly and wave at them all. A hand pushes my back slightly and I understand I’m supposed to move. My legs are shaking, yet I don’t know why. This sudden stress is so out of the blue I can’t seem to calm down. The Capitol’s crowds were not as scary. And this is home. I should feel better here. My headache gets worse every step I take until I see her.
My eyes meet with sea green eyes in front of me. I don’t know why I happen to lock eyes with her specifically, but I do. And the way her wavy brown ginger-ish hair falls down on her shoulders and how she stares with no admiration somehow calms me. I don’t know who she is but she’s my anchor into reality at that moment. My heart’s beating goes back to normal, and I shake my head to chase away the remaining misty thoughts. My mind is as clear as day now. I don’t even know this girl. I mean, I remember her from school, vaguely. But I can’t recall her name. I don’t think I’ve ever talked to her. I thank her mentally for how helpful she has just been and promise myself to go have a chat with her. Who knows, maybe this was a sign.
I can now walk normally without having to stop every step of the way to breath or get my legs to work correctly. When Mags closes the door behind me in her house, I sigh, passing a hand through my hair. Vasiliki would kill me if he saw me messing it up like that. But here I’m not Finnick Odair the perfect tribute with his perfect bronze hair and perfect smile. No, I’m just Finnick. Finnick the silly kid who knows how to fish with a trident better than anyone. The kid who spends every second he can in the sea or misbehaving.
Although I had promised myself to talk to the brown vaguely ginger-haired girl eventually, I realised it might be more difficult than what I expected. First off, being a victor means I’m not required to go to school anymore, and working is not even necessary either regarding the amount of money I get from the Capitol. However, this unnamed girl does go to school, and she probably works too. Meaning that, without knowing where it is she toils, I have no way of contacting her.
But this doesn’t stop me and this morning I decided I would show up to school to get to her. I have nothing better to do now, do I? The fresh air coming from the sea caresses my face while I wait outside the school’s small gate. The Capitol’s weird breeze hardly ever felt refreshing at all. The headmistress of the school, miss Larets, welcomes me with half a smile. I don’t think she’s exactly glad that out of the two district four tributes, I’m the one who came back. The female tribute, Sorra, was a much better student than I ever was. I’m smart I won’t deny it, but I hate staying seated, so obviously school was never really my thing. I always preferred running on the beach or swimming. Nonetheless, she’s kind to me and accepts to let me in, declaring it to be an honour to have a victor come back to school.
I don’t really care what she thinks of me coming back here though, especially that I’m not here to study. I look at all the girls around. Many of them have blonde hair so I just skip them, making my way through the corridors. I check every face, but I never set eyes on the girl I’m looking for. Why can’t I remember her goddamn name. I stop a few times, describing her to other kids but it’s too vague and none of them can put a precise name on the description, or rather, I get many different names. It’s only at lunch break that I finally spot her. She’s eating with her friends at one of the round tables of the small cafeteria we have. I bite my bottom lip, wondering how I shall approach her. What will I say?
‘Oh hey, remember me? Finnick the new victor of our district? Yeah well, I was sort of panicking when I came back and you happened to calm me down, so I’d like to I don’t know, hang out, I guess? I believed for a minute it was a sign and we should be friends hahah!’
I don’t even know her name, so this plan sounds absolutely absurd. However, I do move forward and grab a chair to sit at their table. Confidence is key ! The entire place goes silent, which leads me to believe they were all waiting to see where I’d go. And if I hadn’t been used to it, I would have been absolutely creeped out. Despite the insistent stares of the three other girls at the table, I never detach my gaze from her. She’s not particularly pretty or sexy. Her body is rather small, with barely noticeable curves. I sort of hate myself for noticing that first but that’s what I’ve been subjected to for weeks in the Capitol so it’s hard to let go of the habit.
« Hey. »
I finally greet her, displaying an awkward smile. Wow. I can’t see myself right now but I’m pretty sure it’s not what I originally planned to look like.
« Can you remind me of your name please? »
I ask politely, forcing myself to put a better, prettier smile on my lips. I wish charming others to get what I want wasn’t something so natural anymore, now that I’m home, but I can’t change it so quickly. Later perhaps. When I can differentiate the way I need to act towards District 4 folks and their Capitol counterparts.
« Why? »
She retorts, which makes me cock an eyebrow. Not what I expected. For some reason spending so much time with head over heels women made me believe I’m irresistible which I appear not to be.
« Because… You’re- uhm... kind of pretty? »
Ok that was not a confidence is key move. The stuttering added to the lack of conviction in my voice as I call her pretty make her frown. Yeah. I can get that. I would probably have frowned too.
« I mean no it’s not for that it’s just that I’ve seen you around before -only half a lie because I have seen her around, just not much- and I wanted to know your name. »
« Annie. »
« Annie...? »
I wait for her last name, but she seems determined to simply stare into my eyes with vehemence. I laugh softly in an attempt to lighten the mood, but the room is still silent and I’m now suspecting that others know something I don’t. Perhaps I should have thought this through a bit more.
« Ok Annie well that was a perfectly awkward first meeting, thanks for that. See you around I guess. »
I declare bitterly, still letting out a little laugh because what was that. I put both my hands on the table to push myself up on my feet. I give her an amused look, but she gives a cold one right back. Now I’m getting worried because the anger in her eyes is so obvious it makes me shiver. Almost feels like I killed her dog.
« I don’t think I want to see you around, Odair. »
Her voice is only a whisper, yet I can hear her perfectly. And then I realise who she was around with when I saw her before. Sorra. She was friends with Sorra and that’s why she’s mad. Because I killed Sorra.
In my defence, I didn’t exactly kill Sorra myself. The poor girl was murdered by the careers I allied with at first. She was only 12 when she was reaped but turned 13 during our time in the capitol. She was just a year younger than me. District four didn’t really get lucky this year with the tribute’s ages. I suppose Annie and her friends are mad I didn’t try to save her. But what else was I supposed to do? Kill myself and let her win? I’m just as young, no need to stay reluctant to being around me.
« Because Sorra died in the arena? I’m pretty sure I wasn’t the one holding the knife that cut her throat, so I don’t really get why you’d be mad at me. »
It hits me suddenly how much I sound like one of those Capitol guys. It’s like I’m heartless. Like I didn’t feel horrible when she screamed my name as Rob, the district 2 guy, killed her. I never knew Sorra, I just knew she was a year ahead because she was really smart. She was an excellent student but a mediocre fighter. Sadly, her intelligence wasn’t enough to win. I can see that my words hurt Annie because her gaze saddens, and tears form in the corner of her eyes.
« Well, you were this guy’s ally! You could have stopped him! »
She responds furiously, her face turning red from the anger. I stand still, blinking slowly. This girl who has most likely never fought in her entire life is telling me what I should have done next to an 18 year old district 2 career who could have killed me at any inconvenience. I will concede that I am tall and strong. And we are a career district. Except we’re not as much of a career district as 1 and 2. We’re strong and we know how to fight or at least how to use weapons. But these guys have been training to kill and hunt people since they were old enough to hold a knife. Without my trident, I never stood a chance.
I can’t help but laugh. Laugh at how irrational this girl is being. I turn around and walk away. Now, THAT made me feel like shit. I regret this whole idea and I choose to do the only thing that can make me feel better. Attempting to make friends is much more difficult than I recall it to be. I get out of this hell as fast as I can and make it to the beach. I throw my shirt away, repeat that with my shoes and walk into the water. I dive when the bottom of my shorts starts to get wet.
I let myself enjoy the silence. Under the water, all you can hear are muffled sounds of everything outside. It’s like being out of reality, in a place that not even time itself can touch. I remain there, my body floating somewhere between the sand of the bottom of the sea and the surface. I even dare to open my eyes. The burning feeling is nothing compared to how my ribs felt after that fight with district 1 girl. I can’t even remember her name. I’m actually really bad at names.
When oxygen becomes too rare in my lungs, I give up and resurface. I gasp for air, shaking my head to chase the droplets in my eyes and pass my hands on my hair, slicking it back in the way Vasiliki does it. I open my still hurting eyes and see a blurry silhouette approaching. At first, I thought it might be Annie coming to apologize but I quickly realise the person in front of me is much taller than she is.
« Hey kiddo. »
A raspy voice greets me, and I don’t even need to see his face to know who just walked up to me.