Finnick isn't sure that kissing someone well makes you good, or good to them, but he won't push them into a big philosophical discussion, not when this potion is still giving him the urge to bite. After all, the whole point of encounters like this is to cloud your brain from thinking about such questions as am I a good person?

So Finnick opens his mouth. Lips and tongue caress Bel's neck, and then his teeth bite into it harder. He moans softly, as the pressure exerted by his jaw and the resistance of flesh against his teeth feels strangely and deeply satisfying. Once released, he kisses the bite-mark he left, laps gently at it.