emma watson could get run over by a truck and still look good
Sensing a trap, I’m about to let my arrow fly, hoping it finds his heart before the trident impales me, when he shifts his hand and something on his wrist catches the sunlight. A solid-gold bangle patterned with flames. The same one I remember on Haymitch’s wrist. Haymitch gave it to him. As a signal to me. An order, really. To trust Finnick.