Fish smell. The smell lingers. For all the fetishization the Capitol did of the ocean and the beach, maybe the occasional piece of artfully placed rope or seaweed, they never could forget the smell. And imagining the District 4 victors actually smelling of their industry?

Perish the thought.

(Then again, given the mix of perfumes at some of the parties Annie had actually been too, she'd rather the honest stink of fish.)

So altogether, Annie's delighted by the little fish.

She grins back at Finnick and tilts her head impishly. "We have. Not a bad thing. Though it's weird without boats anywhere."

It's said lightly, to be part of a light conversation. Not a reminder that they are somewhere Not Home.