[It isn't until he sees the look on her face that it really clicks, and then gradually his smile turns from amused to gentle, a certain warmth seeping into his features that isn't reflected in the chill of his limbs.]

Oh. You meant that kind of cold.

[He reaches up with one hand and cups her face, running his thumb over her cheek. It won't surprise him one bit if she knocks his hand away, but hey, it's Finnick, personal space has never been something he pays much heed.]

We can still pretend that nothing is wrong, if you want. Mostly because nothing is wrong.