Every time she had a suitor it was the same. Flowers, expensive gifts and late nights out. It usually all accumulated on one of the parties she had to go to as an escort. And Haymitch never missed one of those. Friendly chatting and surprisingly sober and charming, getting her date to talk. Then he'd turn cruel and spiteful, pressing him on matters he knew Effie hated. Leaving the wreck he'd created, he'd head for the bar or the penthouse. Once the fighting or awkward silence had passed, she'd follow. "I hate you", and he'd smile. "how could you?" he'd shrug his shoulders. But at the end of the night they'd sit on the coach, her bare feet on his lap, kicking him lightly every once in a while, to let him know she was still mad at him, passing a glass of clear liquor back and forth.