The one thing Dahlia dreaded the most about the Tribute Parade was the intense beauty regiment that would be inflicted upon her body beforehand. Having every strand of hair plucked from her body and her skin being scrubbed so thoroughly she was convinced there would be nothing left but bone were painful yet unavoidable procedures which Dahlia would never enjoy. Ever. By the time she was sent away to wait for her stylist, she had already pissed off a number of the styling assistants with her incessant curses and complaints, and nearly killed the waxing lady armed with only a pair of blunt scissors, one latex glove and a lot of pent-up rage. Her temper had grown a lot shorter over the years and, this time around, Dahlia wasn't afraid to give those torturers a piece of her mind.

"There she is!" A delighted gasp was heard from behind her, making Dahlia whirl round to find a familiar face staring back. "My dazzling muse."

"Juno?" Dahlia exclaims softly, surprised to see the woman return to styling after her years of success designing for the Capitol. "What are you doing here?"

"You didn't think I'd let one of those newbie stylists go anywhere near my darling Victor, did you?" Juno retorts with a playfully disappointed shake of her head, striding forward to engulf the shocked girl in a brief hug. "You've grown so much, Dahlia." Pulling back, Juno cups the girl's face with a fond smile and sympathetic gaze. "It's a shame to be reunited under such... unfortunate circumstances."

Dahlia scoffs at Juno's purposely neutral description with a roll of her eyes, grumbling, "That's an understatement."

"Oh, I've missed your dreary groans of disapproval." Juno laughs wholeheartedly, not taking the girl's words seriously and brushing the tension of the upcoming Games aside. "Now, let's get you dressed!" Practically squealing in excitement, Juno grips onto Dahlia's arm and drags her away, yapping non-stop about the outfit she's created. "I've been saving this for a monumental occasion! It is truly my masterpiece. The highlight of my career!"

Dahlia grimaces and, through gritted teeth, grunts a sarcastic, "Can't wait."

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It hadn't taken long for Finnick to get ready for the Parade. Mainly due to the fact that there wasn't much to his outfit in way of material or coverage. His stylist wanted him to show as much skin as possible for the benefit of the Capitol women. He didn't care about them. The only woman he loved would be going into the Games with him.

He hadn't seen Dahlia since the Quarter Quell announcement was made and it killed him inside to not be with her. All he yearned for in his darkest moments these last few days were her. Mags had tried her best to comfort him but he had been inconsolable. How could Snow expect him to go into those Games and emerge as the Victor? It wouldn't be happening. Finnick will perish in that arena if it meant that Dahlia would live on.

"Hey, loverboy." Johanna greets the man, resting her arm on his shoulder as she lets her eyes scan their surroundings. "Where's your other half?"

"Not here yet." Finnick answers glumly, not ashamed to admit that he had been waiting desperately for her arrival. Johanna smirks at his disheartened expression, wondering how the pair survived residing in different districts.

The Girl on Fire then made her spectacular appearance, dressed in what Finnick could only assume was another fiery ensemble. Johanna's lip curls in resentment as she scowls at the girl and mumbles, "Ugh. Why does she get a good outfit and I'm stuck as a tree? Again!"

"But a very cute tree, Jo." Finnick comments teasingly, allowing the girl to swat at him in annoyance. With one last glance around the room, the boy decides to have some fun while waiting for his flower to show up. "On behalf of my beloved Dahlia, I'm going to rile up the Girl on Fire. Do you wanna join?"

Johanna chuckles to herself but shakes her head. "Nah. I'll annoy her later. I've got a plan up my sleeves."

"Don't you mean your branches?" Finnick jests, striding away before Johanna can retaliate. But he struggles to hide the amusement on his face as she mutters to herself in irritation. "Katniss."

The District Twelve female turns at the call of her name, eyes squinting in judgement at his revealing outfit. "Hello, Finnick."

"Do you want a sugar cube?" Finnick asks, tossing the delicious treat between his hands before pinching it in his fingers to display it to the girl. Fighting to keep the smug look off his face, he slows to a stop in front of her. "I mean, it's supposed to be for the horses, but... I mean, who cares about them, right? They got years to eat sugar, whereas you and I... Well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it."

With a small shake of her head, Katniss declines the offer and replies, "No thanks. But I would love to borrow that outfit someday."

Finnick chuckles at her dry humour before motioning to the girl's dramatic fashions. "You look pretty terrifying in that getup." A taunting smile, one which Dahlia would be very proud of, remains on his lips as he asks, "What happened to the pretty little girl dresses?"

"I outgrew them." Katniss retorts sharply, a threatening malice laced through each word.

"You certainly did." Finnick states, not intimidated by the girl in the slightest. When your closest companion is famed for her cold and dark nature, you learn to embrace the chill of the shadows. "Shame about this Quell thing. Now, you... You could've made out like a bandit in the Capitol. Jewels, money, anything you wanted."

"Well, I don't like jewels and I have more money than I need, so..." Katniss responds blandly, barely showing any interest in the conversation. "Maybe save some of those gems for The Black Dahlia. Might brighten up her dark outfits."

Finnick's jaw clenches at Katniss' mention of the girl. The tone of her voice makes it clear how she feels about the older Victor and Finnick doesn't take kindly to people disrespecting her. "Oh, Dahlia doesn't need any of that. She doesn't like jewels either."

"And what does she prefer?" Katniss bites back, quirking a brow at the man in curiosity. But Finnick can tell she's digging for answers in places she wouldn't find any.

"Would you believe me if I said she has a collection of shells?" Finnick states smoothly, being completely honest in his response. But he wore the proof of his words on a string around his neck. A simple piece of jewellery she made for him which he never removes.

Katniss scoffs in disbelief, truly believing that Finnick is toying with her. The Black Dahlia is a mad woman who has an insatiable taste for killing, not shells. That is a fact that Katniss is certain of, but she doesn't comment on it. Instead she pivots the question, "What did you do with all your wealth, anyway?"

"I haven't dealt in anything as common as money in years." Finnick replies cryptically, ignoring the pang of pain in his chest at the reminder of all he's done to protect his loved ones.

"Well then how do people pay for the pleasure of your company?" Katniss snaps harshly, believing she knows everything about Finnick and Dahlia's reputations.

Ignoring the jab, Finnick steps closer to the girl with a smug grin and whispers lowly into her ear, "With secrets." Katniss stares up at the boy, taken aback by the proximity but doesn't move away. "What about you, Girl on Fire? Any secrets worth my time?"

Pushing back her nerves, Katniss forces a polite smile onto her face. "I'm an open book. Everybody always seems to know my secrets before I know them myself."

"Unfortunately, I think that's true." Finnick murmurs, following Katniss' gaze as her eyes dart over his shoulder to Peeta and Cinna. "I'm sorry you had to cancel your wedding. I know how devastating that must be for you." In that moment, Katniss can see how perfectly matched Dahlia and Finnick are. They both have an expert way of hiding their true intentions beneath a layer of careful words and can make you feel defeated without even raising a single weapon. Slyly, the man pops the sugar cube in his mouth and allows the sugary substance to dissolve on his tongue, contrasting with the bitter tone of his voice. "Have a good day." Snickering to himself, he acknowledges the boy with a curt nod. "Peeta."

"Finnick." Peeta returns the gesture out of civility, but eyes the man suspiciously. "I think Dahlia was looking for you."

That simple sentence is enough to have Finnick backing away from the star-crossed lovers in search of his girl. He finds her surrounded by a group of Victors including Alaric, Haymitch and Johanna with her back facing him. Even without seeing the whole outfit, he knows she looks stunning. She always does. No matter what she wears, he always finds her irresistible.

Dahlia only turns around when Johanna gently nudges her and nods in his direction. But Finnick swears that every time their eyes meet, he falls a little bit deeper into her darkness. And her face lights up with a genuine smile reserved only for him. Then for a moment, all their troubles disappear. No more Quarter Quell. No more Girl on Fire. No more death looming on the horizon. Just the pair of them, like it was always meant to be.

"Stop staring, Finnick." Johanna blatantly calls him out, her lack of a filter bringing him out of a love infested daze. But it doesn't dim the gleam in his eye whenever he looks at Dahlia. Nothing could ever extinguish that spark. "Just because she looks like a disco ball, doesn't mean she has to be the centre of attention."

"Says the talking tree." Dahlia retaliates with a carefree laugh, shoving Johanna away in favour of approaching Finnick. A teasing smirk decorates her lips as her eyes rake up and down his costume. But Finnick doesn't miss the warmth spreading across her cheeks either. "Where's the rest of your outfit? Is there a fabric shortage in Four?"

"Well, I see now that the costume budget was blown on District Five." Finnick quips back, delighting in the snorting laugh she lets out in return. "You look beautiful, little flower."

Dahlia suddenly becomes very self-conscious, glancing down at her outfit while shuffling her feet. Juno had tightened her into a strapless bodice with a large bustling train protruding from the back. The black fabric was covered in shards of silver glass which reflected the light like shimmering stars. Her stylist had boasted about sticking with Dahlia's dark colour scheme but still representing District Five's main industry of power. But Dahlia couldn't help feeling insignificant compared to Finnick. She didn't deserve to be so close to him.

"Johanna's right, I look like a disco ball." Dahlia mumbles, trying to maintain the lighthearted mood. "But I think you're finally beating me in the most naked Victor category."

"You can't win that award all the time." Finnick jokes back, attempting to catch Dahlia's eye but the girl keeps avoiding his gaze. Eventually he tires of the banter, hooking his finger under her chin and forcing sea-green to meet inky black. He steps closer, eliminating any distance between them as he mutters, "You are beautiful, Lia. I don't care what you're wearing. You look exquisite in anything."

A soft smile naturally tugs at the corner of her lips as she finds herself unable to look away. She's not the best at receiving compliments from Finnick because they always sound so meaningful and genuine leaving his mouth. He meant every word and she didn't know how to handle such pure admiration. Instead, she reverts back to using humour to deal with her uncontrollable emotions.

"Still, wouldn't hurt for a splash of colour in my wardrobe every once in a while." She comments bashfully, referring to the monochrome tones of her outfits. She's not sure anyone has seen her in a shade other than black since before her Games.

"What colour do you want to wear?" Finnick questions, not recalling a time where she had spoken about a desire to wear other colours.

"Blue." Dahlia answers without hesitation. She could sit for hours listening to Finnick describe the waves in District Four. The calm seas or the rough storms never failed to intrigue her. She yearned to breathe in the fresh sea air and fill her lungs with the crisp breeze. She would love to stand barefoot in the rippling water and close her eyes, basking in the glow of the warm sun. But most importantly, she wanted Finnick there too. Holding her hand every step of the way. She never thought she could learn to love the water again after her near-death experience in the Games, but Finnick's passion for the waves would compel her to drown in them over and over again. Anything to be with him.

"Is that your favourite colour?" Finnick asks, not understanding the reason behind that choice.

But Dahlia simply shakes her head and, with a loving smile, replies, "No. It's yours."

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