I look back at him in surprise. "How-?" I sound like I have a cold.

"I saw them," he says carelessly. "When we sat down at the table on the day of the Opening Ceremony." He doesn't want to talk any further. I remember when he teased me about chewing pencils. Princess, you should chew your pencil more often, it's a sweet sight.

I can't get his words out of my head. What did he mean by that? "I recognized her straight away," he continues when I don't answer. My stomach sinks just thinking about it. I didn't even know I was drawing her until I took a closer look at the picture in my bedroom and recognized the girl that I drew and sent to death three years ago. I'm surprised Haymitch can remember her, he'd been out of things for most of the time after all.

"That was the day it got really bad," I grant after a moment of silence. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I'd like to ask him about his dreams, but I'm sure he dreams about his arena. No wonder most victors go nuts.

"I don't understand-" Haymitch murmurs under his breath. "How- How do you manage to get up and do your job every day?" It sounds very calm, but it's seething under the facade.

"Work distracts me," I say. "When I'm focused on something else, I can't think about those things."

"If it's so hard for you, why are you doing this job?"

I shrug. Today I hardly know it myself. I used to want to be in the spotlight. Prove to my mother that I could be the perfect daughter as well. Make her proud. Be famous. It was for many reasons. But back then I pretty much underestimated the whole thing. In my first year, the death of our tributes woke me up quickly. Brought me back to reality, but it was already too late to back out. No one can just quit the Games. It doesn't work that way. You're either asked to step down, marry someone influential or die beforehand.

I hesitate for a moment before I find the courage to ask. "Is that why you're drinking?" I ask carefully, not wanting to upset him.

"Among other things," Haymitch admits, but in a tone that makes it clear he doesn't want to talk about it any further. I accept it.

Undecided, my gaze wanders back to the table. I don't know what else to say. We both feel pain. Each one different. He's a lost being, heartbroken. I have no idea how to help him because my heart is just as broken as his. Don't think you're better off than him.

Haymitch also remains silent. He looks at the sun as if trying to distract himself. As I always do. It relaxes me to watch him do it. Now that he doesn't care if anyone is watching him, he seems almost peaceful. Then he turns back to me. My reflexes aren't fast enough for me to avoid his eyes. Something in his gray flashes, but vanishes as quickly as it came.

"I've been waiting for you to break from the moment we first met," he says through clenched teeth as if it were agony to get the words out. As if the core of his words were connected to unpleasant memories. "And yet it took a full eleven years. You surprise me Effie, but you always have."

His words choke my throat. For a long while all I can do is meet his thoughtful, sad eyes. It feels like we're going back in time. Back to the point where that coldness and that aloofness didn't matter between us. Hot tears force themselves into my eyes and I try to blink them away. I force a smile to my lips, that smile Haymitch can't relate to, and then whisper in a bitter voice, "I broke a long time ago, Haymitch. You just weren't there to witness it." To help me.

Haymitch knows immediately what I'm alluding to. Not the years of drunkenness, but something a little longer ago. I expect the same rejection, the same wall of indifference that he showed me back then, but all I see is displeasure in his eyes. Regret.

"I'm sorry," he finally admits, and I catch my breath. "If we're both lucky, one day I'll be able to explain everything to you."

I just stare at him for a moment. Haymitch couldn't have thought about his words. They don't make any sense. One day. What is he talking about? I want to point it out to him, but then I see his eyes. He looks past me and something flashes across his eyes. Fear? I can't say for sure because it's gone as quickly as it came. Maybe I just imagined it.

Then he gives me a thin smile. "And? What are your plans before the children are released later, princess?" It will probably take a while before I get used to his sober state.

"I'm meeting my mother," I reply slowly, mentioning my mother for the first time ever. She represents everything that makes up the Capitol. And she has some issues with my perspective on things. But there are so many other reasons. "What about you?"

Haymitch shrugs and leans back in his chair. "I don't know, maybe I'll stay here. Maybe I'll have a look around town later." Look around? He knows his way around the Capitol very well, after all he's the one who roams the streets with Chaff every year and looks for the most secluded bars. Sometimes I really don't understand Haymitch, and I doubt he understands himself.

Then I suddenly get an idea. It's so absurd I should really forget about it, but I hate to leave Haymitch here alone. He'll end up drinking again and none of us can afford that. "You can drive into town with me," I suggest, looking at the clock. I jump up in reaction, startled. During our conversation I completely forgot the time! "You'd have to hurry though. I'm way too late already!"

Before he can even reply, I dive out of the room to ready myself. I'm already dressed, but I haven't brushed my teeth or packed my purse. Not that I take a lot with me, but first I have to find the right purse for my outfit. And that can take time.

I put on my make-up one more time and then start looking for the right bag. This is actually proving to be more difficult than expected. My schedule has slipped and I'm pretty sure I won't be able to make it to my mother's meeting on time. She'll murder me.

The fabric of my dress is a dark turquoise, with a large dark green ruffle on the right shoulder that extends to the chest. A matching light green wig that fades into a light white at the back of the head. It also has a black ruffle but not as big as the ones on my dress. Compared to usual, my make-up is a bit simpler today. Too much fake powder wouldn't go with all the green tones and would just distort my face. After endless requests and hundreds of annoyed sighs, I finally decide on a purse that is made entirely of black leather.

Then I almost run into the living room. My gorgeous black high heels, one of my favorite pairs, really aren't made for such a sprint. I overestimated the slickness of the ground and slide at least a meter with my hands outstretched before finally coming to a stop. At least I'm still standing.

I hear Haymitch laughing behind me. I turn to him indignantly. He's sitting on the sofa, fully dressed. He looks handsome in the black suit. The same one he was wearing yesterday, but that doesn't matter.

The thought of him sitting on my bed, his suit on and his shirt unbuttoned, suddenly makes me think. "How did you actually hear me last night?"

Surprised, Haymitch returns my questioning look. The question seems to throw him off balance. "I came from Chaff," he admits. " I didn't come back until then."

I eye him skeptically. He didn't look drunk. Didn't they want to drink? "You weren't drunk, I saw."

Suddenly he seems impatient. "We haven't been drinking non-stop," he replies, annoyed, as if that's what I said. But I didn't. I meant something else. "Can we go now?" Haymitch isn't telling me the whole truth.

"Yes, come on then," I answer mechanically and turn on my heels. I don't hide that I saw through him.

If he notices, he doesn't show it. Instead, just change the subject. "Nice of you to give me a ride, sweetheart. You certainly wouldn't have done that a few years ago." He grins recklessly.

I actually wanted to ignore him. With a sigh, I decide on the more bearable option. "Are you really going to take your chance, Haymitch Abernathy?" I ask sternly, giving him a condescending look. Of course, he knows I'm not being serious. He knows me well enough for that.

We enter the elevator side by side. A weird feeling. He laughs quietly to himself. "Believe me, I've been through so much shit in my life, I'll probably manage to deal with Effie Trinket." The silent teasing is reflected in his eyes.

"What do you want in the city? Do you have anything in particular on your mind?" I ask instead, ignoring his comment. Today I won't indulge in his teasing just to give him a laugh.

I can't help but smile when he bites. "To be honest, I'm tired of being served the same dinner over and over again," Haymitch replies, pounding the button to close the door. A jolt runs through our legs, and then the elevator silently begins to move.

I look at him indignantly. "But Haymitch! Where are your manners? The staff make an effort to cook dinner for us! You should appreciate that," I scold, looking at him patronizingly. At least I'm trying.

Scrutinizingly, Haymitch looks back at me. We stare into each other's eyes, seriously. At some point I can't take it anymore and start giggling. The sound makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. This man will be my undoing ...

"A lady doesn't laugh with her mouth open," Haymitch replies still serious and gives me a nondescript look but leans in my direction while doing so. Immediately, I pull myself together and press my lips together.

"Just kidding, sweetheart," he then jokes, showing me his teeth and brushing a strand of my wig over my shoulder. His fingers linger on my collarbone, our eyes meet, and mine legs soften beneath me.

At that moment, we're pulling up on floor 7. The door opens and Haymitch pulls his hand back in a flash. I don't have time to reply when Johanna Mason enters the cabin. She flashes Haymitch a knowing grin and completely ignores me. The young lady is even more brusque than usual.

"Haymitch, where are you going?" she asks, not sounding particularly curious. Maybe it's her unusual voice, which sounds sharp with everything she says. I have a hard time liking her, but I'm doing my best. Maybe she used to be different. Before the Games sucked her into a never-ending swirl and spat her out as a stunted wreck. I'm really doing my best.

"Getting out of this madhouse," Haymitch replies, raising an eyebrow. "And you, sweetheart? Swinging some axes before Plutarch tears you apart tomorrow?"

I don't like the way he calls her sweetheart. That's a nickname reserved for Katniss and me. Although it may well be that he addresses every woman with it. Surely he does.

Johanna's laugh sounds even worse than her voice. She takes a step closer to Haymitch and narrows her eyes at him. She is half a head shorter than him. Comparatively large for a woman. Taller than Katniss or me.

"Believe me, I'll rip them to pieces. For me. For you." Then she takes a step back, looks Haymitch over again, and then adds, "For all of us."

A hum signals us that we have arrived on the ground floor. Johanna's gaze wanders to me and she fixes me with narrowed brown eyes. "You look ridiculous, as always, but you know that."

I raise an eyebrow and smile slightly. "I'd love to talk to you about your looks, but rumor has it that lately you've preferred to walk around completely naked."

Johanna gives me a fierce look, then turns on her heel before stepping gracefully out of the elevator. She turns her head in Haymitch's direction one last time. "And call me sweetheart again and you'll be the next one with an ax in your head," she calls over her shoulder.

-

Thoughts?