She'd noticed Finnick's roommate when she came in. But he'd seemed busy. Not that she's avoiding him, she's actually been quietly planning on how to summon up her courage to get to know him better. Somewhere where Finnick isn't being protective at her, isn't drawing attention back to himself to allow her to slip away: after five years of walking as a team, they do it almost automatically now.

So, instead, she'd occasionally glanced over and assessed. Some of the moves were the fancy things she'd seen here, but he'd seemed more efficient than some of other folk. Training for a purpose. It's something she can understand.

Not that she notices him walking over. She'd gotten somewhat lost in thought, and so she startles a little when Steve speaks.

"Um," Annie starts, which is fairly normal for her interactions with people. She's shy to Finnick's slick, the unpolished district woman next to his stylish socialite, right down to how she speaks with a much thicker version of their Mexican-Texan hybrid of an accent.

Then she smiles, lowering the staff and letting it hang loosely by her side. The smile is still shy, but not quite so startled. Confused, though, and that's clear from the faint crease between her eyebrows. "I'm fine. Did, uh. Did I not look it?"