La conocí.
The first week she was gone was hell for him; it had him wringing his usually steady hands and had his typically inscrutable face tense with anxiety. He went hunting every chance he got, but he was jumpy without her and thus didn't bag much game. It was harder to focus, not having her at his back and he was inefficient-proof that he couldn't function on his own.
Not having any money, nor anything to trade, he avoided the Hob, where he knew Greasy Sae would have a bowl of pity soup, which, to him, was the worst flavor; not to mention, the gamblers. He wouldn't have been able to keep his cool, meaning his fist would be well acquainted with someone's face and then he would be well acquainted with a jail cell, while Ma and the kids struggled. So, no Hob until he was sure he'd be able to get a handle on his emotions.
When he finally did venture back, he was surprised by the somber mood. Though the bustling crowd was still in attendance, and the shouts of auctions went on, all of it seemed darker, sadder. Everything, every movement, every word had weight to it. He couldn't tell if it was his mind playing tricks on him, or if the Hob itself was suffering without her, just as he was. He meandered toward Greasy Sae, meager game in tow. The old woman smiled and patted his shoulder. Good thing he'd waited to come back- sympathy was a hard thing for him to swallow and he couldn't have handled anymore than that. He'd hate to have gone off on her for trying to help. Somehow he managed a grimace in return and sat on a stool, trading some of his earnings for a bowl of her soup. They were silent as he sipped, and, once done, he silently returned the bowl and searched for a place to trade. He turned away from her and mentally ran through the list of needs for both of the families he was providing for.
"Excuse me!"
He stumbled and almost fell on top of a girl who looked familiar; younger than him, but older than the kids. She dusted herself off, apologizing. "I didn't realize you were getting up," she explained. He grunted. Her blonde hair betrayed her as Town, and he didn't feel much like discussing anything with anyone, let alone formalities with this merchant girl. "Since I've got your attention, though," she continued, "would you like to make a donation?" Normally, he doesn't hit women-or even entertain the thought- but the thought of a rich brat asking for handouts really pissed him off. The look on his face must have alerted her to his thoughts, as she was quick to add, "It's for Katniss. If I get enough, Haymitch may be able to afford something for her." Well, that wasn't so bad then, but why not asking her wealthy friends then? Were they too greedy to even give to their own tribute? He held back a growl.
"I've got no money." Though he was dying to poor every ounce of coin into the collecting jar, he was forced to acknowledge that it was not in his power. Her eyebrows scrunched up. "Well, this won't be the only collection I'll be taking, so maybe next time." He jerked his head in a nod, disconcerted at the feeling of powerlessness, and the feeling he should know her from somewhere. She smiled uneasily and left to gather more donations.
Unable to find a suitable place to trade, he shook his head in disgust and returned home. Ma would make stew, enough for a few days, if it was preserved, and they could have the Everdeens over. The walk home he pondered the girl; he didn't go into Town much, and Townies didn't come into the Seam much, so maybe he knew her from school. He tried to picture her at the dismal place of education (where not much learning was done) and placed her in a grade. Maybe three years from graduating? Maybe two? That would put her at around Katniss' age. He imagined the two in comparison, and suddenly he remembered her. Sometimes in his maths class, he was able to snag the window seat, which looked out over the courtyard, where most students chose to have lunch in the warmer months. He could look out and find Katniss and she'd always have a blonde girl with her. And whenever they knocked on the mayor's back door, the same girl answered. Huh. The mayor's daughter, in the Hob? Laughable. But what was her name? Something no one in the Seam would have, something old fashioned. He supposed it didn't matter much. He'd most likely find out sooner or later-prominent merchants were always in the rumor mill. He made a mental note to find some berries-maybe she'd pay more out of guilt, with Katniss gone.
He arrives at his hovel of a home and as he walks through the door, the voices of his younger siblings drown out his thoughts and the responsibility of being the family's caretaker distracts him from the mayor's little princess.
A/N: Ah, finally something new, right? This is the first in what I plan on being a series of one-shots exploring the evolution of the Gadge relationship. Also, you can ignore the title if you want. I'm a Spanish II student and we've been going over Preterite/Imperfect verbs. Based on my sparse education, it means, "I met her for the first time." Obviously, it isn't a complete sentence but I don't feel like coming up with a more complex one.
Feedback will tell me whether or not to continue, so let me know, por favor.