He's always known Prim doesn't care about his looks, and that's enough to earn a relieved sort of gratitude from him. (It's a strange thing, to be a sex symbol turned, in the media's eyes, to tragedy by the marring of his beauty, but the people that's driven away were people whose attention he didn't want.) Beauty and fame had come at too high a price. Sponsors had saved his life in the arena, but the cost was unbearable.

Prim, though, he genuinely likes. Not just because, as Katniss' sister, he feels protective of her. Not just because she sees him as a person, not a famous face. Because she'd met him at his worst, in District 13, when he'd been in and out of hospital so much they never bothered to take off the bracelet that read mentally disoriented. She'd met him like that, and been kind, caring, friendly, not just to him, but later, to Annie as well. She's better, kinder, than he was at her age, when he was already a killer.

And she, like the rest of them, has suffered so much, so young. It's there, in her face, her not-quite-right smile, and Finnick's good at reading that sort of thing. So when he steps forward to hug her, it's warm, friendly, with a tight squeeze for a moment from his good arm.

"Not going to let Annie have all the fun?"