Finnick's outfit is understated compared to what he'd wear for an opening ceremony or a big Capitol event, but the magic of this world decided to grace him with something he would actually pick for himself, versus what some uppity stylist would shove him into, so he's feeling confident. In his element, in this context, it will be easy for Cinna to recognize Finnick, and vice versa, having mainly encountered each other at events of this nature in the past.

Though, Finnick has long since stopped hoping anyone from home would show up here, so he's certainly not expecting it. As he glides around the place with a glass of champagne, eyes appraising other guests, the first thing he notices is Cinna's lovely skin tone. While there are people of many colors here, it's actually been a while since Finnick saw that sort of deep, warm brown hue. He admires the stranger for a moment, before realizing he may not be a stranger at all, and then freezes.

Cinna. Katniss and Peeta's stylist. He made the beautiful and innovative outfits that sold them as Victors and as rebels to rally behind. And then he was killed.

Finnick's blood runs cold, for a moment, and he stares longer and harder than he really should. If Cinna is here, could others be? Did he come here after his death, or another point in time? And what on earth is Finnick supposed to say to the guy? Should he even speak to him?

Of course he should. Has to. His mind will race all evening with possibilities if he doesn't find out what's up.

But he can't quite muster his usual easy charm as he sidles up to him. No smile, a serious tone, an intent gaze.

"... Cinna. Hi. Do you remember me?" He reaches a hand out gently. "Finnick Odair."