Relief was the first thing Haymitch Abernathy felt when he set eyes on District 12's new escort. Sure she was dressed in a particularly hideous shade of neon green, right down from the bulbous mass on top of her head that he hoped for her sake was a wig, to the cartoonish makeup caked on her face and the frilly dress which made her waddle. But she wasn't Rhinstone Harkness, and as far as he was concerned she could look as ridiculous as she liked so long as he never had to see that man again.
"Ah, Mr Abernathy, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Euphemia Trinket, your new escort." The green woman stuck her hand out to him. She even smelled green, some weird grassy smell. Only in the Capitol would they consider grass a good idea for a perfume.
"Euph... what?" Fuck, he was drunker than he intended to be. He hated reaping days and sometimes he needed a little extra to get him through the day, but he'd obviously gone a little overboard.
She rolled her eyes at him, no doubt she had been briefed about his fondness for alcohol. Or maybe not, he was always like this during the games, and laughing at his latest drunken antics was a safe bet to drum up interest if the games hit a dull patch. He guessed most of Panem knew by now.
"Euphemia," she said again, "but you can call me Effie." She did a weird, awkward little laugh, which he didn't get at all. Whatever.
She was staring at him now, like she was waiting for something. He couldn't fathom what. But she did have very pretty blue eyes. Given that they weren't green he assumed they must be real.
"Right, well then, we don't have long now Mr Abernathy, so you ought to get yourself ready."
He just stared at her dumbly. What was she on about, he was already ready. "It's Haymitch. And I'm ready."
"But... surely..." she trailed off. Maybe she was a bit stupid, lots of these Capitol women were. "Haymitch you do realise they televise the reapings?" She said the words slowly, as if she was having difficulty putting a sentence together. Definitely stupid.
"Sweetheart, I have been doing this for twelve years now, I know what I'm doing." Oh, she didn't like being called Sweetheart, she screwed her face up in a funny sort of way when he said it. It left lines in the makeup on her forehead. That made him smile, he liked knowing what pissed off his escorts. Or at least he'd liked knowing what pissed off Rhinestone.
"Thirteen," she corrected. Huh, she was right. "And I'm sorry Haymitch, but you can't possibly mean to go out there like this. Your shirt's creased, there's a stain on your pants and you smell." She pulled that odd little face again, crinkling her nose and forehead. It was kind of cute, even if she was insulting him.
"You do know there's no smell on television, right Sweetheart?" That face again, oh, he was going to have fun with this one. "And you do know I'm Panem's resident drunk? It wouldn't be right if I turned up looking as pretty as you." She beamed at him for this. He was definitely going to try and keep hold of her, she was hysterical.
"Don't be silly Haymitch." She pursed her lips in thought. "I know, there's this gorgeous silk set on the train. Green of course, so we'd be matching. It's meant for the male tribute, but there are so may sets of clothes on there, no one would ever know. And you can take a quick shower there too. It will take us off schedule, but as long as we don't dawdle we should be fine." With that she set off at a remarkable speed for someone wearing heels that big and a skirt that tight. "Come along Haymitch," she called when she saw he wasn't following.
Somehow he found himself racing to catch up with her. "No. Look I'm perfectly fine as I am. Nobody cares what I look like." She didn't even turn around to acknowledge him.
"Right, straight into the shower then," she directed him as soon as they were on the train.
"No Effie, I'm not showering."
"Yes, you are. I'll have a drink waiting for when you come out." A drink, he needed one of those. He guessed he could manage a shower. Not a change of clothes though. There was no way he was putting on anything green. He'd just tell her no.
The shower was good, the hot jets of water did wonders for his back. Showers, properly hot showers, were one of the few things he actually missed about being in the Capitol. He actually felt more human by the time he'd managed to get himself clean. Certainly more sober.
Then he saw it, an awful green suit hanging on the back of the door, and no sign of his own clothes. He hadn't even heard her come in. He just stared at it for a while, considering his options. He could go out there naked, but Capitol women were weird. She might decide that was him making a pass at her, and when he turned her down she was bound to get distraught, they always did. So the green suit it was.
He shuddered as he put it on. He hated silk, the sensation of it sliding against his skin was disturbing. And it really was an awful green. Even the underthings were green.
He finally forced himself out of bathroom and was immediately met by an awful shriek.
"Oh Haymitch, you look so dashing." She was upon him in an instant, straightening his shirt and tidying his hair. "We'll be the talk of the Capitol, I know we will. Everybody will be wearing green, just you wait." She beamed at him as if she was giving him the best news ever.
"Drink?" he grunted. He wasn't going to acknowledge the idea that he would responsible for starting a Capitol fashion trend. It was bad enough that she'd got him into this ridiculous suit in the first place. He just wanted his drink.
"Yes, coffee," she said with a wicked gleam in her eye as she passed him a mug. "Sober you up before we go on stage."
"Coffee?" She was evil, utterly evil.
"Yes, coffee." There was a finality in her tone that told him not to argue. "Drink it as you walk, we need to go. And do not spill it."
He found himself following her back to the stage with a steaming hot mug of coffee.
One thing did occur to him as he followed her though. If his underclothes were co-ordinated with his suit then he bet hers were too. And that was quite a pleasant thought as he watched her sashay in that awfully tight little dress.
That, and she definitely wasn't stupid.