Darcy looked at his face because it was a habit and quite frankly faces like his made looking at them hardly a chore. His smile was faint, just a curl about the edges, but she could see the potential in his lips that said when Finnick smiled, really smiled, it would stretch from ear to ear and be as pretty as the rest of him. She noticed that he wasn't leaping to talk about himself, and that was okay. Darcy was one for needling, but only when it was important. If he wasn't chomping at the bit to tell her about himself, she'd leave it alone out of respect of newfound friendship.

"I am new to the hotel," she said, looking at his teeth as he spoke, his eyes, the sun-bleached highlights in his hair. "I have such a crush on you right now," she blurted. "That's weird, right? I'm drunk, and you're pretty, and yeah." She smiled, then picked up the shot she'd recently ordered and tossed it back, allowing the burn of tequila to recenter her thoughts and allow her to continue to converse without looking or acting like a creeper. "Anyway. Have you been at the hotel long? You seem pretty calm. You must've had plenty of time to adjust."