Haymitch Abernathy had never seen his escort willingly put up with such indecent behavior in the four years he'd known her. This rich prick was acting way too familiar with her. Familiar wasn't even the right word - possessive was closer to it. He walked around with his hand on her waist, drifting downward to feel up her ass every so often. Haymitch wasn't sure why it bothered him, except that he knew Effie hated unseemly behavior. Sure, it was plain as day that they must be fucking, but why was she fucking him? Him. The rumors that circulated among the Victors about him, and the twisted things he'd done to them... Haymitch didn't like it. At all.

His only choice was to get as wasted as possible.

Effie covered for his behavior for as long as she could, but she was eventually forced to frogmarch him out of the sponsors lounge to avoid further humiliation. "Why must you be so vile?" she hissed.

"Sorry, your highness, but I'd rather have a threesome with President Snow and my own grandmother than spend another second in that room watching Tertius Felshaw slobber all over you."

She frowned and rolled her eyes at his lewdness. "He isn't slobbering. And there's nothing wrong with two people who are seeing each other showing a little bit of affection."

"Since when are you seeing him?" Haymitch demanded.

Effie crossed her arms indignantly. "I have been for several months. Though it's none of your business, really. "

"What the hell for?" he asked flatly. "You're not attracted to him."

"Why in the world would you say that? And what do you know about it?"

"I know how you look when you're attracted to someone, Trinket."

She completely ignored that comment.

Haymitch pressed the issue. "He's a sleaze-bag. Not your type. Come on, be honest - what could you possibly see in him?"

"He is a very important man."

Haymitch made a derisive noise. "He's a creep."

"Well fortunately you don't need to concern yourself about it, since you aren't the one spending time with him."

"Is that what the kids are calling it these days?"

"Shut up."

"Tell the truth, Trinket. What's in it for you? He your ticket to the big-time?"

Effie's eyes widened with fury. "How dare you!" She pushed him farther into the corner, and lowered her voice. "He is a very personable man! And if I choose to spend my time with him, it's none of your business! Though I don't see why you should have such a problem with it. It may have escaped your notice, but this, being Twelve's escort? It's my job. Year-round. For the ten months out of the year when you are doing nothing but drinking yourself into a stupor, it is my duty to maintain connections in the proper circles, so that when it comes time for the Games again, and we need sponsors, there is someone actually willing to talk to us!" Her eyes flashed. "And it's doubly important to make nice in my case, since I'm quite on my own where that's concerned! So if I choose to see someone who also happens to very well-connected, you aught to keep your opinions to yourself and just be thankful!"

"So you admit it. You don't really like him."

"I didn't say that! And my arrangement with him is none of your business, Haymitch."

"Course not. But a word of advice: things might be different here in the Capitol, but in Twelve we have an unflattering word for someone who fucks people for money."

Effie's face turned bright crimson. For a moment she stood frozen on the spot, turning redder and redder. Then, with tears shining in her eyes, she turned about and walked away faster than he thought possible in those ridiculous shoes.