Now she felt lucky, even if the fact that she did so made her feel equally as awful; made her stomach roil. She had suffered for years in those pits, fighting for her life, knowing only the crack of fragile bones and the smell of blood. But she had been freed eventually, taken into a noble house and cared for by a man too good for the shit world they lived in. She had a family, a home, and a life of adventure in the years where Finnick was still subjected to the horror of his reality.

Nina was violent because it was all she knew for so long. Fighting was what she was good at, so she kept doing it. Despite the comforts offered to her, she never left that fight or flight mode that was stuck in fight. And Finnick couldn't turn off that charm — that need to seem desirable, that need to be liked because it meant he would survive.

A part of her wondered if it was some inherent knowledge of their similarities that made her press him to begin with. Some ability to see past the facade and not knowing entirely why.

"A lot of things suddenly make sense." She said quietly, voice low to try and stem the fury rising in her throat again. "I'm sorry doesn't change shit, but I am sorry you had to go through that, on top of everything else. You were just a kid." She bit the inside of her cheek. "You don't deserve that shit."