Cassia tiny hands dug their way into her father's long blonde hair, grabbing fists of it and wondering when his patience would wear out. He dropped her onto her bed and tucked her in. Winters in District Twelve were always cold, especially in Haymitch's huge house. He threw four blankets over her, then pulled the duvet over those. Her father's lips touched her cold nose. "You warm enough, sweetheart?"
Cassia couldn't humour her father. She was five, when she wanted answers, she wanted them immediately. She was sensitive, but extremely stubborn, like her father; well, before he had her. His patience had developed, as had everything in his life, really. He wasn't negligent, above all, he wasn't drunk. The second he'd found out he was going to be a father, he promised he'd do his best with her.
"Papa, why don't I have a mama?" Cassia eyes were big and full, and she looked just like... Her.
"Sweetheart, of course you have mama." Said Haymitch, far too quickly. It was a matter of time before she asked, of course it was. He didn't have to be completely truthful yet. "She's... A princess. She lives far away. She's smart, pretty, important... But she's too busy right now. One day, you'll meet her, alright?" He said, lip quivering slightly as he spoke, sentence punctuated with sad sighs and breaking of eye contact.
"When is oneday?" Cassia asked, as though his words referred to as specific time. "I want it to be oneday. Is oneday the same as someday? Because you always say you'll take me to the woods someday. It's never someday!" She said, increasingly agitated, tiny pale hands screwing up in fists, looking identical to her mother. He felt as though he was being scolded by the escort herself.
"Cassie, please go to sleep, okay? Don't mention it for a while and I promise we can go out and get you a new dress tomorrow. Deal?" He asked tiredly. She wasn't like the District kids, mostly because she wasn't one. Her eyes weren't Seam grey. They were blue, but not town blue, they were Capitol ice. She liked dresses more than playing games with other kids, she liked being pretty. It wasn't a bad thing, but she wasn't accepted. She'd be turned out of the Capitol, but she wasn't accepted here. Even her name wasn't native to her District. He saw the way the District 12 kids looked at her porcelain skin and blonde hair, she wasn't like them, and they knew it.
Cassia nodded, seeing the tears in her father's eyes. He sniffed and walked to his room, looking at the white phone beside his bed, supplied by whoever built this mocking structure. He picked it up, then put it back down. He couldn't call her, he didn't know where she was at the moment. He would have to wait until the summer, he couldn't possibly do that. Haymitch rooted through the drawers on his dressing table, pulling them out and throwing them against walls and onto his bed. Papers, pictures, and tiny little trinkets fell in every direction. He cursed as the thought of the word "trinket", actually. He needed her right now, she'd know what to do. He found the worn, wrinkled piece of paper he'd been looking for, inputting the final faded digit. Before the phone could begin to ring, he slammed it down.
"Dammit, Cass! Can't you see I'm busy!?" Haymitch shouted, not even making eye contact with the little girl in his doorway. She wore a white nightgown, pale hair falling messily across her face. Her little fingernails on her left hand were caught between her teeth, whilst her right hand focused on gripping the doll she always held close.
Haymitch's gaze softened. He sat on his bed and looked at Cassia for a long time. He patted his knee and she shuffled over, dragging her tiny body into his lap and sitting there comfortably, arms wrapped around his neck. She knew he didn't mean it, she was young but experienced. "Papa, I'm sorry... I just wanna see her." She swallowed.
"Don't apologise, sweetheart." Haymitch said, rubbing Cassia's back and smiling slightly as she patted his. He dropped her amongst the papers and stood. "You wanna sleep in here tonight?" He asked as he began collecting the papers. He found an important picture, which he set aside. Once the room was tidy, to his standard anyway, Haymitch sat up in bed with his daughter, four blankets over them and one picture in his hands.
Cassia curled up against her father's torso, and his huge arm wrapped around her. "So, you know Reaping Day? You know when that is. We'll mark it on the calendar. I promise, on that day, you can see your mama." Haymitch vowed, kissing Cassia's head. His daughter nodded and Haymitch gave her one of the pictures and let her look at it. "That's your mama and I holding you just after you were born... That's the newest picture I have of her." It looked nothing like Effie. She had no wig on, just messy hair, and no makeup. She looked perfect, but Cassia would never recognise her.
Cassia stared at the picture for a long time then smiled, she cuddled it to her chest, between herself and her father, who wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. They fell asleep, and the house felt a little bit warmer.