"Guess I'm just good at blending into the background," he says. It's said with a flashing smile, because it's a ridiculous statement, in some ways, or it seems like one: he knows as well as anyone that his looks, his charisma, his presence make people's eyes go to him when he walks into a room, even here, where there's no fame to draw them. It's as inherent as the beauty that made him so famous in Panem.

He can fade into the background if he tries though, and he'd been trying, a little, because he wanted to keep an eye on Beverly. Annie's been worried about her, lately, and Finnick knows Beverly wouldn't be the only one to be unsettled by recent events. (At least Beverly hasn't pulled a weapon on him, like Thea did.)

She looks it. It's not entirely easy to describe just what it is, but if he had to, he'd say something about the eyes. A shadow there that he knows, because he's seen it in his own eyes. In Annie's, in those of the other victors he knows.

He runs a hand through the front of his hair, the combination of sweat and gel setting tufts of hair up in rumpled spikes.

"What's that you're doing?" he asks, his head tipping a little to one side in an easy, curious sort of gesture. "I've seen a few people doing it, but it's not familiar."