Deep, Drunk Talks

Someone screamed. Haymitch flinched. So hard that something nudged him in the back and he groaned. The young victor tried in vain to sit up, but a sharp pain throbbed behind his forehead. Adrenaline shot through his veins, his brain already on alert, but he couldn't move. It felt as if someone had weighted his limbs with lead. Panic rose in his chest and he snapped his eyes open, or at least that was what he wanted. The room was too bright. He could hardly see anything, so he could only blink.

"Haymitch!" The scream went through his bones and Haymitch felt as if his heart would give up in terror at any second. He had never heard Effie's voice sound so frightened. Her fear was contagious. He had no idea where he was, where she was. Was she in danger? Why wasn't his body obeying him?

Something touched Haymitch's cheek and he flinched again. His eyes still hadn't adjusted to the light. It hurt. Something was going terribly wrong, and he tried to make sense of his situation, but his memories were ... wiped away. Haymitch frowned in confusion and a second later was hit by Effie's perfume, which calmed his pulse a little.

"Haymitch," Effie repeated, tapping her fingers against his cheek as if she wanted to wake him up. Her tone was hysterical and it made him nervous. "Say something."

Haymitch opened his mouth and a groan escaped his lips. Slowly, so slowly, he managed to open his eyes and see something. His retinas still burned like hell. Effie's face took up his entire view. It was only a few inches from his own and horror was reflected in her sky-blue eyes. Her mouth was slightly open, as if she was about to scream again. His muscles relaxed at the sight of her. She seemed unhurt; out of danger. The knife he was gripping in his right hand loosened and he hurled it away. Just to be on the safe side.

Effie didn't even seem to notice the movement. Her eyes remained fixed on him, the fear on her face not fading. Haymitch's senses needed time to catch up. Her fingers were still patting his cheeks, as if she wanted to make sure he was actually awake. They were trembling. A glance at her figure told him that her entire body was shaking. She had crouched down on the floor next to him, leaning over him and–

Haymitch jerked his head to the side and his frown deepened. This was his room. He was in the penthouse. No immediate danger. He was lying on the floor, next to the bathroom door. His head and the upper half of his back were leaning against the wall. His brain was racing, trying to process things. Nothing. He lay on the floor of his room, feeling more dead than alive and having no idea how he the fuck had ended up here. His head was completely blank.

"Holy shit," Haymitch muttered, sitting up. He immediately regretted the movement, as his body didn't seem ready for any kind of activity. A sharp pain shot through his head. Like a nail being hammered into his head.

"I thought ..." Effie began again, but then stopped and stared at him as if she would lose consciousness at any second. A gasp escaped her lips and she pressed her hands to her face. She took a deep, rattling breath before she continued. "I wanted to check on you. I knocked, several times, but you didn't respond. Then I saw you lying unconscious on the floor ... I thought you were dead."

I thought you were dead. Haymitch laughed and coughed. "Got your hopes up for nothin', sweetheart. I'm ... hard to get rid of. Harder than I'd like."

"That ... that's not funny, Haymitch!" Effie's voice had turned into an irritated hiss.

Haymitch shrugged and squinted to see her clearly. There was a relentless pounding in his head that became a hammering with every movement. His stomach felt queasy, like he was about to empty its contents onto himself at any moment. He didn't feel like he was fast enough to bend forward or sideways. And from the way his stomach was churning, he must have drunk a lot of crazy stuff. In fact, he was still drunk. Haymitch wondered how that could be, but his memory was blank. He tried to search for anything; the last memory he could get his hands on, but there was nothing. Like someone had wiped his entire brain.

"Shit, I feel like I've been hit by a train." The state he was in gave Haymitch enough clues as to how much he must have drunk. Even by his standards, he had gotten drunk. His gaze fell on Effie, who was kneeling in front of him without saying a word. The panic he had just seen had given way to another expression. Worry, but also something else that he couldn't decipher.

It wasn't unusual for him and Chaff to drink a few too many now and then. Haymitch was careful to drink enough so that his ghosts couldn't haunt him at night; so that he could sleep without dreaming; so that self-destructive thoughts didn't come to him. This was more than that. He was usually sober when he woke up. Right now, he was still pretty far from sober. The last time he had felt like this was a long time ago. What had happened? There had to be a reason–

Haymitch winced as the images overwhelmed him. For a split second, all he saw was white. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch in his mind, the memories came flooding in. Elowen, Effie, Crane, Chaff, Margarita. The day had taken a pretty miserable turn. Haymitch couldn't stop his lips from curling downward as he looked up at Effie, who suddenly hid her emotions behind a mask. She didn't speak, but the reproachful look in her eyes irritated him.

With a jerk, ignoring the state of his body, Haymitch turned to the side and tried to stand up. He failed and almost fell, if Effie hadn't caught him. A curse escaped his lips as he tried to pull away from her — though he didn't really succeed. Effie glared at him. His legs had fallen asleep. Now that he had moved, they started to tingle. He had stayed in that position so long they were completely numb. "What a load of bullshit," he muttered, wincing as pain shot through his head like a lightning bolt. With effort, he pressed a forearm against his eyes and gestured with his other hand toward the drawn curtains in front of the large windows. "Would you mind ... closing those?" He could barely talk, much less stand.

Effie stepped away from him, casting one last glance at the city below before drawing the curtains shut. Haymitch sighed in relief and slumped back against the wall. In the shadows, the burning in his retinas receded. The room still spun around him, but that he could deal with — that was something he was used to.

"Do you remember?" Effie asked after a few minutes of silence. She had wandered back to him and was looking down at him. It was clear that she wanted to put some distance between them. Her features were still reserved, as if she didn't want to give anything away.

Haymitch, who had almost dozed off again in the silence, showed no sign of his tiredness as he nodded. He rolled his eyes, which only intensified the pain behind his eyeballs. "I remember that I should never trust Chaff when he's trying to do me a favor."

Effie's mask fell and she looked frustrated. "What has gotten into you, Haymitch? You got drunk with a girl ten years younger than you. You acted like you were at a child's birthday party and not the most important event of the year. Chaff filled you and that girl with alcohol like there was no tomorrow. I'm relieved you didn't take any of his drugs. Do you understand the level you're operating on?"

All Haymitch did was shrug indifferently. "I told ya, I'm only here 'cause they're makin' me. The liquor is my only priority, Effie. You should know that by now."

"You say so, but I can't believe it," Effie murmured back, her expression pained. "I've seen you, and I still can't believe that's all that matters to you. We've got two children in the race who are counting on you. I am counting on you."

"I gave up on kindness a long time ago," Haymitch said emotionlessly, staring past her, his face hard. He clenched his jaw, suddenly grateful for the alcohol in his system. It was so easy to give in to the frustration; to remember why he was the way he was; to feel the pain that was worse than any physical one could ever be. "Our children don't stand a chance, never did. And I don't want to argue about it. Nothin' you say will change my mind about it. I am not going to change just so you don't have to be embarrassed of me in front of some Capitols."

"I'm not ashamed of you." The words sounded hollow in Haymitch's ears.

"Usually you're a better liar," he scoffed, gritting his teeth. "Then why did you look at me all evenin' as if you wanted to rip my head off right then and there, if I didn't embarrass you?"

"I wasn't looking at you," Effie replied without batting an eyelid. Too quickly. Too put-on.

"You were seethin', and it serves ya right." Haymitch made another attempt to stand. Effie held out her hand, which he ignored. He staggered to his feet and then marched on unsteady legs to the bathroom. "I'd really like to know what excuse you had ready for your Gamemaker regardin' my behavior." His own voice had taken on a daring, mocking sneer.

"What makes you think I have to justify myself for you? You are the one who deliberately disobeys my every order because you do not want to be bossed around by a Capitol." Effie stood frozen in the middle of his room, her head turned away from the bathroom as if she was uncomfortable with the whole situation. Haymitch gave her a quick sideways glance before splashing water on his face. Her lips were pressed together in defiance, and a nascent heat sparkled in her pupils.

"Before them, you are responsible for me." Haymitch staggered back into the room and grinned a mischievous grin. "Everything I do makes you look bad here. What do you think I've been doin' to Petunia all these years? Her hatred doesn't come from nowhere."

Effie's eyes widened in surprise as she realized what Haymitch meant. He had humiliated and harassed Petunia for years. She had made his life hell, and he had returned the favor. There was a reason he had hardly attended any events in recent years. The witch had been so concerned about her reputation that she had effectively sidelined him from any responsibility. Unofficially, of course. When it came to the children, she had done only the bare minimum. Haymitch hadn't the barest memory of last year's tributes.

"You would not dare, Haymitch Abernathy," Effie hissed, pointing a threatening finger at him. Only now did he notice how simply she was dressed. She wore a salmon-colored silk dress with no decorations whatsoever. No wig on her head. Her hair was up in a complicated-looking braid. The makeup alone indicated that she was a woman from the Capitol. "I will not be as careless with you as Petunia. I am good at ordering people around, and that will be no exception with you. When I play, I usually win." Her smile contained all the arrogance of her spoiled heritage.

She looked hot as she stared at him like that, the challenge clearly written on her face. Haymitch grinned. Her eyes glittered. Almost as if she was eager to actually play this game. As if she wanted him to try and push her to the limit. If Effie was one thing, she was confident.

Haymitch took a few steps toward her, crossed his arms over his chest and gave her a disparaging look. "Don't kid yourself, sweetheart," he said coldly. "I am the victor here. You are easily replaceable. Not even your boyfriend Crane can protect you from that."

The sparkle in Effie's eyes faded. She imitated his gesture and crossed her arms. An irritated twitch ran across her brows. "Why are you dragging Seneca into this again? What does he have to do with–" She paused and suddenly her face lit up as if she had just solved an important puzzle. Haymitch returned her stare without showing any reaction. "Were you trying to make me jealous?"

"Jealous?" Haymitch was unable to reply with anything decent. Instead, he tilted his head as if she had used a foreign word.

"You are angry because I went with Seneca and left you standing," Effie summarized, the anger suddenly disappearing from her voice. "Haymitch, I actually wanted to talk to you about that. I did not want it to come across as–"

"I didn't wanna make you jealous," Haymitch interrupted abruptly, the coldness of his voice surprising them both. Effie took an uncertain step backwards. "How did ya spin that bullshit? Honestly, you Capitols are sometimes really hard to get a grip on." Effie stuck her chin out defiantly, obviously angry at his Capitol remark. "You said yesterday that this is nothin' ... serious. You and me, it's nothing, Effie. Never. You wanna experiment and I ... I'm just havin' fun with it. That's it. Nothin' more than that."

Haymitch turned abruptly away from her and stomped over to his wardrobe. He knew his words had hurt her. He could practically feel her gathering every fiber of her confidence to hide her wavering behind the artificial, overly cheerful mask. While she collected herself, clearly speechless, he yanked open drawer after drawer, searching for a pair of sunglasses. His hangover was already almost knocking him off his feet. They didn't have much time left before they had to return to the sponsors' lounge. He wouldn't survive the sun out there without sunglasses. Frustrated, he sighed as he came up empty. The Capitol usually provided him with everything he needed — every damn accessory. Apparently, a simple pair of sunglasses was too much to ask for.

Reluctantly, Haymitch turned back to Effie, who was watching him suspiciously. Her controlled facade lay over her features like a second skin. She was so good at hiding her feelings that he sometimes wondered how she had learned to do it — and why. His own face closed off as soon as he saw her emotionless expression. Not that he had to try hard; the grim look had been a habit for years.

Soundlessly, Effie let the oxygen flow out of her lungs, as if she had been holding her breath. "Then why else would you be walking around the lounge with another woman and getting drunk with her in front of me? I have seen your headlines from the past years. Chaff is lying when he says that is normal for you. Why last night? The Games didn't start yesterday."

"It may not be the scandal of the decade, but it shouldn't be. We were just havin' fun, which maybe got a little out of hand. That's all." Of course, Haymitch knew that wasn't true. He was still angry about the reason that had given Chaff this absurd idea in the first place. The reason was him; his weakness. It sparked a rage that he really shouldn't direct at Effie. Even if she was to blame. "Are you tryin' to tell me who I'm allowed to meet? I'm confused, Effie, because you're not in that position."

"And I'm confused because a few days ago, you admitted to me that you would never touch a Capitol woman because they disgust you. And now you're carrying one around on your shoulders. Do you ever mean anything you say, or do you just put together the words that suit you at the moment?" Her body had just been shaking, now it was her voice. A mixture of bitterness and ... disappointment?

Of course, Haymitch knew that Effie was referring to the day with Laetitia. He clenched his jaw in irritation. She had caught him. He balled his hands into fists, prepared to strike back, and regretted the words as soon as they left his mouth. It wasn't him speaking, but the alcohol, tearing down the defensive wall he had built around himself. "I am confused 'cause a few days ago, you said you had no feelings for Crane. Yet you left me standin' in the middle of the lounge like an idiot, as if we hadn't just been makin' out like teenagers minutes before. Do you always switch partners so quickly?"

Silence. Effie's eyes widened, and she struggled to maintain her facade. "So it is about Seneca, after all," she said quietly.

Haymitch shrugged and walked past her to sit on his bed. The longer he stood there, the faster everything around him spun. "I'm not a fan of polygamy," he clarified. "Especially not when Seneca Crane is on the other end of the line." He raised his hands when he noticed Effie's astonished stare. A placating gesture. "This is the Capitol, I get it. You do all sorts of crazy things and ... most of them don't matter to me. You wanna try things out, fine, I don't care. But please don't drag me into some three-way thing with him."

"I told you I have no feelings for him," Effie said, obviously thrown off track, then sighed in frustration. "What part of that don't you understand? What's between him and me has nothing to do with intimacy. It's complicated."

I told you I have no feelings for him. Haymitch swallowed and lowered his gaze, hoping she wouldn't see the rising panic on his face. He hadn't paid much attention to those words before, but now he realized how much could actually be interpreted from that sentence. Did she have feelings for him? Madness. Even for a Capitol, that would be too soon. She must mean the chemistry, the attraction that couldn't be denied between them. Besides, Capitols had a different understanding of feelings.

"When women say it's complicated, it's usually best to stay away," he said sarcastically. Haymitch slowly collapsed onto the mattress and stared at the ceiling for a while, waiting, because he had expected an annoyed response from her. But Effie was silent. She had been silent a lot today. It was strange and made him nervous. He thought of Seneca Crane and was annoyed at the anger swelling in his chest. Knowing Effie was around that man made him ... not angry, but suspicious. He was annoyed that he felt that way. He was even more annoyed that he couldn't do anything about it. "Explain it to me."

Effie hesitated, Haymitch could practically hear it. She took a step toward the bed, her foot hovering above the floor as if she was unsure whether to move in another direction. "You know the Capitol, at least part of it. You know me, at least what I have revealed to you about myself." She paused and sighed softly. "I am not from the elite, you know that much. My parents would like to change that, though. Making me a Crane would fulfill all their dreams."

Somehow, Haymitch wasn't really surprised by this answer. Effie was ambitious, determined, and confident. She placed great importance on etiquette and manners, and the way she gestured and expressed herself spoke volumes. All of these things didn't come from nowhere. The Trinkets might not be elite, as few families in the Capitol were, but they couldn't be too far down the Capitol's hierarchy if her parents thought marriage to a Crane was realistic. Or their parents were just as megalomaniacal as Effie ...

"Are they your dreams too?" Haymitch made an effort to sound neutral. But whatever Effie would say next would clearly sharpen his opinion of her. He knew she was aware of this as well.

Another sigh escaped her lips, and she sat down in the armchair in front of his bed. She tilted her head back so that her eyes met the ceiling. Haymitch had never seen her sitting so ... informally. Her back was usually straight, her legs crossed, with a cheerful mask on her face. The woman sitting there in the armchair stared thoughtfully at the wall and stretched her arms over the armrests as if it were the most natural thing in the world. As if she hadn't given it a second thought.

Haymitch felt he had to cherish this moment. He leaned on his arm, careful not to trigger the dizziness, and looked over at her. He wanted that image of her to be burned into his retinas so he would be unable to forget it. Something in his chest loosened at the thought that Effie must really trust him if she was going to let him see this more carefree side of her.

"I do not know what I want," Effie finally said, pulling Haymitch out of his musings. "It is a tempting thought, I cannot deny that. Being the wife of a Gamemaker makes you almost untouchable. I would have money without end ..." She lost herself in a fantasy, but still didn't seem to be hundred percent behind it. "If you had asked me a month ago, I would have been more certain than I am now."

"What's changed?" asked Haymitch, who had laid on his side so he could observe at her without putting any strain on his arm.

Effie lowered her head and for a long minute they just stared into each other's eyes. This intimacy should have frightened him, and yet all Haymitch felt was a calm that seemed strangely alien after all these years of isolation. For a split second he was afraid of her answer. But then her mouth twisted and to his surprise tears formed at the corners of her eyes.

"I am an unforgiving person. I take things to heart. I take things personally," Effie said, forcing a weak smile. "After everything I have seen and learnt, I do not know if ..." She fell silent, shrugging. She lacked the words for what she wanted to say. In the Capitol, it was easier to be oblivious. To his annoyance, Haymitch knew exactly what she meant, even if she couldn't articulate it in a single sentence.

"You could quit." Effie's eyes widened in confusion. "If you marry him. It could be your way out. You can't tell me you wanna do this job for another ten years. 'Cause that's how long you'll be trapped in this wheel, minimum. It would break you, like it broke me–" Haymitch stopped short. That wasn't quite right. His arena had broken him, not being a mentor. The children had just given him the final kick it had needed to send him over the edge.

Effie vehemently shook her head, and the tears disappeared. Determination flashed across her features. "I'm not a coward. I wanted this job, so I'll be there for them. It's my duty, now more than ever."

Haymitch didn't ask what she meant. He rolled back onto his back and found himself staring at the white wall above them, his arms folded behind his head. The bed rocked back and forth as if he were on a ship and the alcohol was punching the inside of his stomach. He had to take deep breaths to keep his contents down. Neither of them said anything for a while and Haymitch almost nodded off again if Effie hadn't started to speak.

"Haymitch?" Her tone sounded hesitant and didn't fit the agreement they had made yesterday afternoon in the cleaning closet at all. Haymitch noticed that a lot of what they had done in the last few days hardly fit with the content of this agreement. All the touching, the way they acted with one another, what they talked about. He had to think back to the night before last, when Effie had fallen asleep against his shoulder in the car. For a brief moment, with just the two of them there, he had admitted to himself that it was more than just attraction. Not love. He wasn't capable of love, at least not anymore. But something that was stronger than friendship. Maybe it was part of the agreement for her, and he was just too stupid to understand the difference. What did he know about the relationships they had here in the Capitol? A look into the sponsors' lounge opened up a multitude of possibilities.

"Hm?" was all Haymitch could say. He didn't dare turn in her direction. His gut told him not to.

"I have an offer for you."

Haymitch started to laugh. "An offer?" The skepticism in his voice was unmistakable. "That's how all sales pitches start, where at the end of the day you're throwing away your entire fortune."

Effie giggled, but her tone remained serious. And nervous. "You want me to stay away from Seneca. I will. If you stay away from others too."

"I never said you should stay away from him," Haymitch protested immediately. "All I said is that I don't–"

"Haymitch," she interrupted, throwing him a long, meaningful look. He hadn't even noticed that he had turned back to her. Haymitch wondered what he must look like. In a wrinkled shirt and suit pants. He probably looked even worse than he felt. And he felt like shit. What did she want with someone like him, anyway?

Haymitch rolled his eyes and then raised his eyebrows questioningly. "Doesn't sound very casual to me."

"You started it," was all Effie said, without specifying what exactly she meant. "And it remains casual."

He sighed loudly and sat up unsteadily. His stomach and head immediately rebelled. Haymitch knew he was being reckless. Every fiber of his being knew it. They were walking a fine line between ... yes, between what exactly? He knew that answering would probably send him straight into the wall. The part of himself that was pessimistic, empty and broken – the more powerful part of himself – was screaming for him to stop. This part was losing.

"Okay," he gave rise to, so hectically that the words were barely comprehensible. As if he wanted to say them out loud before he changed his mind. "Deal."

Effie's pupils widened in surprise, as if she had fully expected him to refuse. A genuine, content, happy smile spread across her lips. "For someone who dislikes the idea of touching a Capitol woman so much, you're making quite a few concessions."

"Better not say anythin' before I change my mind," Haymitch muttered, looking around his room. "I need more alcohol to deal with you."

"No more alcohol, Haymitch." Not an order. A request that sounded almost desperate. Their eyes met and Haymitch could see that she was aware of how much he was trying to downplay this conversation. Effie grinned. As long as he didn't actually regret his decision, she could probably handle his denial.

-

Well ... the arrangement is getting tighter. What do you think? Please let me know! :)

Skyllen