A/N: just something I wrote in what I call "Post-French Insanity." i.e. after my super easy french exam.

Effie Trinket was not one who often had no idea what to do, but when Haymitch Abernathy tried to hug her during the reaping of the 74th annual Hunger Games, she was in that very situation.

Knowing that all of Panem was watching and that if she permitted him anywhere near her then she was ruined, she shoved him away. With her wig slightly off centre and her nostrils filled with the stench of sweat and liquor, she could predict who would be holding back his hair as he vomited into the toilet later. Her.

Effie didn't mind caring for Haymitch; it gave her a purpose that didn't make her feel despicable. Throughout the year the image of all the children's faces burned in her memory. The spilt second of relief when your name isn't called out, then the awful truth that someone else's had, maybe a friend, or a sweetheart. Then the look of utter despair on the faces of relatives faces as the chosen tribute comes forward. It all broke her heart, but she had to seem cheery and excited, if not her life could be considered over. She assumed this year would be no different.

So Effie regained her composure, ignoring the strange feeling in her stomach she couldn't quite explain; she assumed it had something to do with Haymitch's stench. Effie walked over to the girl's reaping ball and took out one slip of paper, as she read it her heart sank; she knew before she read it aloud, that this girl was young.

"Primrose Everdeen," she called as cheerily as she could. Silence, the girl was young and well liked. A figure emerged from the back of the square. Effie could've cried, the girl was twelve, though she looked no more than nine, she had a pretty face, but it was filled with sadness, as was everyone else's. Suddenly, there was a shout, and a group of girls parted.

"Prim!" the girl screamed desperately, as the Peacekeepers tried to shove her back, "I volunteer, I volunteer as tribute," she shouted, taking a more determined step forward. Effie's heart lightened ever so slightly, but it shattered with Primrose's cries.

"Katniss, no!" she cried over and over, refusing to let go. A tall, muscular boy carried her off to the back of the square. The older girl, now surrounded by Peacekeepers, made her way to the stage.

"What's your name dear?" Effie asked, even though it was already obvious from Primrose's cries.

"Katniss Everdeen," she replied, her voice slightly hollow.

"Well, I bet my buttons that was your sister." Of course it was she thought to herself, for Primrose's sobs could still be heard.

"I like this one," Haymitch hollered, his arm around Katniss, "lots of… spunk." He staggered away and fell off the stage. The feeling was back, and Effie was now sure it had something to do with proximity.

Effie knocked on Haymitch's door lightly before entering. She heard the shower. Knowing that he wouldn't willingly take a shower she assumed that someone would be struggling to clean him up. She was right.

"Peeta," she whispered softly, he turned around from struggling to get Haymitch out of his wet shirt, "I'll take it from here."

"No, I'm fine."

"No, you're not; you can't even get his shirt of. Besides, I always do it, go."

"If you're sure," he replied and left the room, a knowing look in his eyes. Effie gathered essentials and began dabbing Haymitch's face lightly with a wet facecloth. When he was suitably calm she removed his shirt, throwing it, as quietly as she could, into the sink. She began to wash his face, neck, and torso gently, but thoroughly. She was really the only person who knew how to care for him in this situation, having done it many times over the six years she had spent as an escort. She never realised that she was humming, she always was, and that was what soothed Haymitch. She decided to wash his hair as well, having observed that he was much more tolerable when his hair was clean. Had Effie turned around she would have seen Peeta watching her empathetically. He left soon enough though; he knew she wouldn't appreciate being watched.

She dressed Haymitch in clean soft pyjamas and she helped him over to the bed; Effie had remarkable upper body strength and Haymitch was still semi-conscious. With his arm around her shoulder Effie felt it again, that flutter in the pit of her stomach, and after a year of wondering, she figured out the reason.

Haymitch was completely out by the time his head hit the pillow, but his hand still found hers and Effie kissed his forehead softly, smiled and left the room.

When Haymitch woke the next morning, the first thing he took in was his scent; mint and lavender. There was only one person in all of Panem that he knew to smell of mint and lavender.

Effie.

A/N: hope you like it!