Normally, Annie wouldn't be up this late at night. Or rather, she wouldn't be out of her quarters. She's had issues with insomnia for years, even before her games, but back home, there are either things to do or she knows the area. She could go down to the victors' private beach and look at the stars, and be perfectly safe. Here? It's predictable until it's not, and she doesn't like that.

Except that tonight, she can't sleep. She needs to move, to do things, to be distracted, to distract her mind before it turns on her and rips her to shreds. Normally, she'd go and see if Finnick's awake, but he's in one of his own moods. The kind of mood where, back home, they'd skulk back to their own mansions, which isn't really an option here.

So Annie's taking a chance, and wandered down to the gym. Not to pick up a staff again and whirl it, that just seems to attract people wanting to spar with her, but to look at the treadmills.

She misses running. Doesn't trust the holodecks, not when it feels like there are ants crawling on the inside of her skull, but she misses just running. And quiet, after midnight, seems as good a time as any to try those machines. She's not dressed as she would be for running back home, but her clothes are loose, sensible, and her long red hair is braided.

But she catches sight of Fatima, and stops to watch. She'd seen the woman around, and of course it's always useful to watch how people fight. Not so much tips - she can't fight, and she knows it - but techniques, experience, things to report back to Finnick as their pool what they've found out about the others on this ship.

Mostly, though, she's watching the other woman's legs and wondering how in the world she's keeping her balance in those shoes.