A/N: Hi! This is my first story here ever, and I decided to write a little one-shot about Effie..and Haymitch. I don't know if I'll continue, but who knows? :D Lemme know if anything needs to be corrected.
Disclaimer: I don't own Haymitch, Effie, or any other characters mentioned...all credit to Suzanne Collins :)
Effie Trinket exhaled softly as she entered her cabin on the high power train heading from lowly District 12 to her home, the Capitol. She removed her fuchsia colored cardigan and tall, murderous-looking stilettos that could inflict painful injuries on someone if they weren't careful. Effie then carefully removed each article of clothing, and changed into a silk robe, which was a sickly shade of green.
Effie then walked into her cabin's bathroom to wash off. Stepping into a warm bath, she recalled the events that took place that day.
First, a measly looking girl named Katniss Everdeen volunteered for her sister, Primrose, for this year's Hunger Games.
"That was quite brave, indeed," Effie murmured to herself as she carefully soaked herself in a purple body wash.
Then there was Peeta Mellark. Tall, strong, handsome boy. Poor thing didn't even get any volunteers, just morose glances from those around him. She was quite sure, though, that the Capitol will just absolutely adore him, nevertheless.
She believed that with the help of their prep teams, and their absolutely wonderful stylists, Portia and Cinna, that these sixteen year olds would win over the hearts of sponsors.
Effie rose slowly out of the porcelain bathtub, now reeking of vanilla and plum, and patted herself dry with a fluffy towel. Putting on a vibrant orange nightgown, she walked over to the vanity in her room, and meticulously removed her powder pink wig (yes, she STILL hasn't taken it off yet.). After placing it in a frilly hatbox, Effie looked up at her reflection in the mirror. A completely different person looked back.
She had curly ringlets of hair dancing every which way across her face, which were the impeccable shade of mahogany. And when all of her white makeup was removed, you could see age lines Effie had collected over the past forty years of her life. Her long red lashed batted up and down, hiding her misty blue eyes when she heard a thud on the door.
Effie whipped around to find a completely hungover Haymitch stumble into her cabin. His long blonde hair was mussled, and could Effie smell a faint trace of vomit?
"Hellooooo," Haymitch practically sang into the room. "Anyone h—oh! What a fine lady!" he said, lazily stumbling towards a mortified Effie.
If she hadn't known it was Haymitch, she would've thrown her stilettos at him. Heck, she still would've, if they weren't five feet away from where she was sitting.
"Get..get out of my room!" Effie squawked in her clipped Capitol accent. Her statement caused Haymitch to stop in his tracks.
"Effie? Whadd'r yeh doing here? What happened to your cauliflower wig?" Haymitch was clearly confused, scratching his head and haphazardly flopping down on Effie's downy king-sized bed.
"Get off my bed, I say! And my wig is in its respective box," a disgruntled Effie said, pointing out an array of hatboxes lining up the wall behind her. She stood up and grabbed her robe and put it above her head, she did not want to have anybody see her without her makeup or wigs.
"Well," Haymitch grumbled, "you look better without your Capitol crud." And with an air of finality, he trudged out of her room.
Effie glared at him until he was back in the train's hallway, and and shut the door tightly, locking the door behind her. She walked to her bed, fingering one of her red curls and revisiting this awkward encounter. Did he actually…like her hair? She wasn't even wearing her favorite white mascara! This man was probably to hungover to realize what he was saying. Still, she couldn't help but feel…Haymitch liked her.
"Oh hush, Effie. You've had a little too much champagne," she whispered to herself as she tucked herself under the blue comforter of her bed. And with that, Effie fell into a dreamless sleep.