"Sounds like your kinda guy. And mine." He smirks.

He takes the stick and starts roasting the mallow. It's hard to see exactly how brown it gets, but he is used to roasting things.

Unforutnately, the things Finnick usually roasts are not nearly so flammable as the little ball of sugar, and he almost immediately holds it too close to flame and catches it.

"Ah!" He brings it toward him, trying to blow it out but a bit too busy laughing.