[Finnick's breathing is still shaky and heavy, but now he's committed to helping this dude adjust to this world, so he needs to get it together. His brain does what it always does when he's overwhelmed but needs to get things done; disassociates from his body. Suddenly his breathing goes from heavy to extremely slowed, and there's a distant, blank look in his eye. His disassociation, coupled with the fact that he's already helped a few people adjust to this world, gives his speech the quality of reading from a script.]

You're in a totally new world. The way people come into this world is by reliving an important memory of theirs. The crew here watched your memory and categorized it based on the sins or virtues it displayed.

[He gestures vaguely around them, the bustling crew, the open ocean.]

Think of this part of the world kind of like a play or a TV show, if you have those in your world. We're acting as sailors right now. But outside this play, there's a huge city. Uh... I know that probably makes no sense. I can answer any questions you have.

[Finnick isn't apathetic toward the man, not at all, but he sure sounds like it, at the moment. He looks absently down at the man's hand, replaced by a fucking hook. This setting could be so tacky. What an absurd thing to stick him with after reliving the worst day of his life.]