Hi, anyone that's still reading (and thank you!). And hi, anyone that's just found this for this first time. I don't even know how to explain the length of time it's taken to get from one chapter to two, except to say: Real Life. But the wonderful reviews I got for the start of this story just wouldn't let me go. I'm really grateful for them, and reviews on this next little part would mean a lot. It's designed to test the waters and to get things moving again, so there should be more, longer chapters and an increase in plot following soon.

When I started this, there were only a few stories about Haymitch and Effie, and fewer still with them in the Games. Now, there are some really great ones. I'm committed to this and it will definitely be different, but if there's anything you'd especially like to see, let me know and I'll see if I can fit it in with what I have planned.

Thank you again, much love, and enjoy!


It's Peeta, darling Peeta, that arrives to collect her from the station. Of course, her precious helpful boy. Her brave, kind young man.
"Hi, Effie" he smiles for her, and as soon as she twitches towards him, his strong arms wrap her up and hold on until she finally exhales and he adds "It's always so good to see you." She turns that one over in her head; seeing her is good even if it's for the worst reasons, and he's allowed to say so because seeing her was good even when she was their escort.

"There's lunch back at my house with the others" he tells her lightly, shifting to start loading her suitcases into the back of his (ghastly, unsightly) large, well-used bakery van.

If only everything could be as easy as being around Peeta. She wept on the train, but she smiles back at him, tentatively, and thinks she means it.
He gestures to her handbag and she pulls it close to her body, biting her lip and instinctively shaking her head a little. The bag contains everything she can't afford to lose; the people and places that make up Effie Trinket, things she has been collecting right back to the start of her life.

A jewelled hairpin of Bella's she'd admired ever since she was old enough to reach for it.

"I want you to have this." It's clearly a token, but if Bella's not going to say so, Effie isn't either.

"Katniss, the Girl on Fire, last year…" as if Effie might need help to remember who Katniss is, as if she knows a great number of Katnisses "she said…she said in her interview that she promised her sister she would try to win."
Effie looks at her older, stronger, more beautiful sister and it occurs to her that even in her own Capitol family, she's not the Katniss. She's the sweet young blonde one that needs someone to volunteer for her. Except they never got to find out if Bella would, because they are from the Capitol, where love is never tested.
Bella swallows. "Promise me you will try to win, starlet."
The nickname is as old as the hairpin and as precious to Effie at the time.
"I promise" she lies.

Portia's and Cinna's hasty initial sketches for her parade and interview gowns, the ones they must have stayed up all night, every night, since the announcement to make.

"Portia and I actually argued about you. She wanted to give you something very Capitol. I wanted to give you just the opposite. You know, I'm not sure either of us had it quite right. But I hope what we've got so far speaks to you at least a little, and Effie, I trust you to make some changes if you don't feel it's right."

A handwritten note of congratulations from President Snow.

"Miss Trinket" the President acknowledges. "How did you find your first Games?"
It's not her first Games, of course, just her first year as an escort; she's watched every Games since the Second Quarter Quell. But good lord, she's not going to correct the President. Unless that's what she's meant to do?
She settles somewhere in the middle.
"Even more enjoyable to be a part of the Games than just to watch, Mr. President, sir."
He raises his glass towards her, inclines his head. "To many more Games to come, then, and you a part of all of them."

A sparking engagement ring. A circle of green stones enclosing one glorious pink diamond.

"Keep it. It will always be yours. Whatever you do and wherever you go, it's always yours."

A braided friendship bracelet, one in a set of three.

"I spent all day making them for us, because they're pretty and we're pretty and I hurt my finger twice but it doesn't matter because this way everyone will know that we're the best and we're a team, us three, no matter what, and that's the most important thing."

The single love letter from her father to her mother.

"There is nothing better than finding a wonderful husband who can give you the life you deserve, Euphemia. Keep the letter. Pin it on your wall, and every time you look at it, remember that you belong with the very best, somewhere safe and wonderful and warm."

Effie clutches the bag to her chest. She can't seem to let go.

Peeta doesn't press, always such excellent manners, and she feels a small touch of relief before it occurs to her that resolving her luggage issues means she actually has to get into that van.

"How have you been?" Peeta asks levelly, once they're moving down the bumpy road that leads from the station to the village. She's still new to this odd intersection between good manners and truth, where the right answer isn't necessarily fine but the best answer isn't awful. How has she been, really? How would she even know?

She settles, eventually, on "It's been an unusual few days.". That's true, at least.

It's the first night after the Quell announcement, and clearly, the Capitol was not expecting Effie Trinket tonight.

She racks her brains, but she can't seem to find the lapse in manners that would lead everyone to be looking at her like that. Her fashion is impeccable, of course, just like it always is. She brought a very thoughtful gift for the club's owner. She only has two nights in the Capitol before she'll be leaving for Twelve and there are no parties in Twelve, no good ones anyway, no costumes, no cocktails. So tonight, obviously, she has come to the best party she can find.

Apparently, none of the other escorts had the same idea.

This is fun. It genuinely is. Being able to get all her friends into the most exclusive places, even Arriette who's always had more money and power than Effie, is a lot of fun. Drinking is fun. She understands why Haymitch likes it so much. Posing for photos with Arriette and Opal is fun because they all look good but the photographers are only interested in Effie. Dancing is fun and she feels in control of her body for the first time since the announcement.

The curious, horrified, admiring, undisguised looks from everyone around her are fun. She has always loved being the centre of attention.

Stumbling home with her own luminous face lighting her from every side, eight feet tall on the Capitol screens, is so much fun she cackles and twirls and thinks about not going to Twelve at all.

She lies awake and stares at the glowing stars painted on her ceiling, still a little drunk and spaced. There are so many stars, she thinks. Is it really possible that theirs is the only one with life? Is it possible, she wonders, that Panem isn't the only place?

She still has the tapes Haymitch sent her when she first started escorting for District Twelve. Or more precisely, halfway through her first year as Twelve's escort when her constant haranguing phone calls (or her promises to replace her deliveries of clothes and gifts with ones of liqour) were starting to make an impact.

She will watch them. She will. It's her first challenge to herself.

50th Hunger Games [Quarter Quell] - Victor: Haymitch Abernathy, District 12

She leaves that one in the drawer.

55th Hunger Games - Victor: Saffron Cole, District 5

She tries to take notes, but really, her scrawlings about Saffron Cole's victory are absurd. "Stay away from knives", "try and run faster", "only make allies you can trust". "Drink water" gets underlined when she has to watch two of them go out to dehydration, and then crossed out when she sees what the career pack does to the boy that tries to steal a canteen from them.

She gets distracted in the middle trying to remember if she's ever come across a Saffron in her time escorting - the victory was before her time, but 5 doesn't have an abundance of mentors - and is startled out of her thoughts by a cannon sounding. It's District Twelve's girl that Saffron's stabbed through the eye, as well. Maybe Effie doesn't want to know her.

67th Hunger Games - Victor: Johanna Mason, District 7

Part of Caesar's starting commentary comes back to her, "another fan favourite, but she can't pretend weakness a second time". No, Johanna can't, will have a target on her back from the second the cannon sounds, but Effie is a good actress, isn't she? She could-

The flare of excitment lasts a single second before she realises it's only pretend weakness if you're actually strong. What could Effie possibly have done at the moment Johanna eventually swung that first axe?

Her most helpful note from Johanna's Games turns out to be "be nicer to Johanna. Stop nagging, etc." which she writes at the exact moment Johanna's second axe collides with a head of blonde hair.

71st Hunger Games - Victor: Tiberius White, District 2

Tiberius is large, even for 2, tall and broad and well-fed. He delights in his kills, taunting the weaker tributes and circling the stronger ones with his chest out. He betrays his District partner early on, even though the girl is clever and good with her bow. Effie watches to the end because she challenged herself and because this is the last Games before she became an escort and knows them by heart, but her notebook lies untouched.

She lies awake again. She's turned onto her side to avoid looking at the stars on the ceiling, so now she's looking at the empty side of her bed, instead.

Her thoughts won't quite shift, though.

Is it possible she's not the only one?

Watching the Games is not helpful, she decides.

One of her mother's great lessons is that you must always focus foremost on yourself.

Effie gets out her notepad again and heads a page: Skills

She's in no position to be picky, so she writes down everything that comes into her head. Fashion, architecture, socialising, gift-giving, piano, sewing, public speaking, organisation, imagination, sketching, kissing.

She almost tears off the page, because it's so stupid, the fact that she can sew a dress or play a tune against the tapes she's just watched, but she's determined to salvage something.

She adds 'determination' just below 'kissing' and then changes her pen for a green one and writes alongside her list. Next to 'fashion' goes ''disguise?', next to 'architecture', 'can build shelter (maybe)', next to 'socialising' an all-capital 'ALLIES'. Gift-giving, well, that's usually her number one skill when Haymitch is too drunk to do it, but this year, it will be up to the children. They are unlikely to give her a piano. Sewing, now, she does know that Mags put sewing and weaving to good use, from fishing nets to forest snares. She circles it a few times in the green.

She has one other skill she can think of, a good one, one she's put lots of time and effort into over the years and that's proven to be extremely effective in the Games. Just under 'determination' and 'kissing', she adds 'Haymitch'.

He's outside Peeta's house when they pull up in the victors' village, and if the furrow his footsteps have ploughed in the boy's carefully tended garden didn't give away that he's been waiting impatiently, Katniss' exasperated face certainly would.

This is the trifecta of Effie Trinket. Everything about who she is comes down to the way she looks, the precious tokens in her handbag, and the people in this place. There is nothing more to her than what's here, now.

All of a sudden, it doesn't seem like enough to have any chance at all.

She plasters a smile on her face, and steps into District Twelve.