Haymitch lies down the couch with a liquor bottle in one hand and the other rests on his chest. His eyelids shut and in no time at all, snoring begins to vibrate out of his lips. He was exhausted from watching over his tributes and dealing with the sponsors. It was Effie's turn to watch the screen if anything happened to their tributes. They always watch the games in Haymitch's room because the last time they watched it in her room, Haymitch threw his glass full of some alcohol at her open closet when their tributes died again. When she sensed the ferocity, intelligence and surprisingly, obedience of their new tributes, Peeta and Katniss, plus Haymitch's 'sobreity' and actual coaching to them, she doubt it'll happen, but she was not going to take any chances and a drop on her carpet will still freak her out.
The smell of alcohol drifts her back to reality. While I'm here, she thinks, I should clean up this dump. She picks up the bottles one by one with her pinky lifted and she neatly arranges them next to a side table against the wall just next to the couch. She cringes at the stickiness of the bottles knowing Haymitch usually spills a lot. Then, she makes a note to herself to ask someone to throw it away.
"I swear, this man would never know order and cleanliness even if it kissed him on the lips," she mumbles to herself.
She was so caught up in her own thoughts and the cleaning that she almost forgot about watching over the tributes. She turns her head to the screen and sees that Katniss is spending night with Rue. She smiled even though she knows one of them or both could die. The rest of the time, she arranges about maybe a dozen and a half bottles while glancing on the screen and gives a sigh of relief every time since no danger has crept upon them YET.
Okay, one more bottle to go. She rotates her head to Haymitch's direction. The last bottle is there with him, now clutched in his arms like a new born baby. She grinned at the thought. Maybe if he were sane, that's how he would've been as a father. His protective arms cuddling the bottle that spilled liquor all over his shirt and is now almost empty. She straightened her pencil skirt, as she impulsively does, and makes her way in a lady-like fashion toward the couch. Then, she tugs on the bottle but it refuses to budge. His expression hardened and he hugs the bottle tighter. Next thing she tries is prying his arms apart, but all it did was made him grumble. She became annoyed. She almost couldn't believe that this guy can also literally annoy anyone in his sleep. She turns to the screen to check her tributes, and sees that they are fine, so she turns her attention to the bottle and is thinking of trying to pull it again. Her hands are tightly clutched on the bottle now.
On a count of three..
One
Two
Th...
She has only tightly clutched the bottle and Haymitch had to dream about people trying to steal his bottle because he screams and pulls the bottle away. Poor Effie fell to her side and her skills in walking on stilletoes failed her for maybe the first time. Out of impulse, she tries to cushion her fall with her elbow but the shock on her elbow lets her fall. Her wig falls out and she is extremely frustrated at Haymitch being stubborn (once again) in his sleep. She gets up and tilts her head to the side. She is now five inches away from his face. Effie is quite surprised at how soft Haymitch's expression is even after the bottle struggle. Maybe he is dreaming that he has finally kept his bottle away from harm and is making out with it. Whatever he is dreaming of, Effie likes its impact on his face. It eradicated his mask of sourness, a mask he seems to wear similar to her mask of cheerfulness. But now, his facial muscles are relaxed and it brings out the handsome lad that she watched when she was twenty four years younger. He's older now, sure, but his handsome features still lie there.
Then, a playful thought lingered in her head. Somehow Haymitch always makes her un-lady like wherever, whenever and in whatever state he is in. She does the unthinkable and presses her lips against the sleeping drunk. She withdraws after a few seconds and she swears she felt his lips curl up while she kissed him. She pauses for a while to process what she just did and then, her earlier statement comes back to her.
"I am order and cleanliness and I just kissed Haymitch Aberbathy on the lips..."
She stands up, impulsively dusts and smoothens her skirt and looks back to him.
"...And he would never know."
She walks nearer towards the television when she hears a sound behind her. She is mortified that Haymitch has woken up and he won't stop teasing her about it the next morning but she feels something bump her stilletoes.
His liquor bottle.
She turned around and saw Haymitch with his arms spread wide and no bottle on his chest. Then, he starts snoring even louder as if on cue. She chuckles a little.
"Maybe he would know, in his sleep."
Somehow, in the back of her mind, she feels that Haymitch was actually awake this whole time and orchestrated this entire scheme just to diss her, but she just assured herself that even if he was awake he'd be too drunk to remember.
"May the odds be ever in my favor," she says as a hopeful statement picking up the bottle and placing it with the others.