"Yeah, sure. I love talking about myself." And a lot of it would probably be bullshit, but old habits and all that. Finnick, at least, was of a similar ilk, so maybe it would be easier to speak out than it was with someone like Charlie — someone who meant well, but who didn't really get it.

It was weird to be treated like a person still, is the point. Angel is guarded, but maybe less so than he would be otherwise while he walked with him to the bar, ducking his head to not crack it against the doorframe. "So where are you from? Some... alien planet or something? People keep saying different worlds."