Chapter 3 : Conditions
They had walked all the way past the animals plot when Haymitch grew tired of her shivering. He rolled his eyes, shrugged off his leather jacket and handed it to her.
She looked up at him, startled, but she did take the jacket.
"I did not expect you to be a gentleman." she remarked.
"Don't get used to it, sweetheart." he warned.
"Effie." she reminded him with disapproval.
The night was alive with the familiar noises of the circus uprooting itself but there were fewer voices than he expected. The sounds of hammers and metal were few and far in between. That made him frown.
"Where is your work crew?" he asked.
There should have been more people bustling around, men mostly, responsible for the dismantling and then, later on, the setting up. There should have been coarse jokes to keep warm in the dead of night, whistling, maybe some singing to keep the pace even…
"We do most of everything ourselves." she told him. "We have a ghost crew and I sometimes hire local men but… Mostly it is just us."
He paused at that, long enough that she outpaced him and was forced to stop and look back at him.
"You can't function without a work crew." He frowned. "So what… You're putting everything up, performing, dismantling everything and driving to the next spot?"
"I know it isn't ideal." she winced.
"It's dangerous. That's what it is." he scoffed. The safety measures alone… Ten people didn't make a circus, no matter how well meaning. "Sure, it's cheaper this way but…"
"It is not all about money." she interrupted. "Finding able men for this sort of work currently… It is difficult. Gale used to do it in another circus, he double-checks everything."
"So he's good for something at least 'cause let me tell you his act's the weakest." he snorted without much amusement. "Finding you a work crew is the first order of business, sweetheart."
"And how do you propose to do that? End the war all by yourself and bring all the boys home?" she deadpanned.
"Tried that. Didn't work out." he retorted, his tone not as light as he would have liked. He dismissed that with a sweep of his hand. "I know a guy. Best foreman in the business."
"And he isn't…" she hesitated.
"He's been back for a while now." he finished when her sentence trailed off. He also crossed the distance between them and let her lead him toward the dark shapes of the trailers. "Medical discharge. Like me. Ain't you lucky."
Her eyes studied him in the darkness but she was too polite to ask and he didn't volunteer the information. There was a limit to what a human body could do and asking him to go back after he had been sliced open to the point of having to hold his guts inside his body with his hands or die in a swamp was one of them. A sergeant had tried once. He had even tried to give him a fancy medal and a purple ribbon. For surviving when everyone else in his squad had died. For surviving when younger kids had not.
"Put my name out there, I bet you're gonna have a few men from my old crew turning up." he added after a moment. "Those who are around at least."
"If I put your name out there, can I consider you are joining?" she hummed. "It might be a little awkward if people do turn up on your reputation alone and you are not there to welcome them."
He remained silent longer than it was polite or normal. He didn't want to join. He had given up that life when the flames had devoured everything he had held dear. He could have found a place elsewhere at the time, any other circus would have welcomed him, but he had sworn to himself he was done.
Done, done, done.
One glance at the Big Top, one sniff of that particular smell, one note of music and he was yearning for it like he hadn't been in years. Not unlike the liquor he had addicted himself to. Cut it off and it was painful. Indulge and it could kill you. There was no middle ground.
"I'm out of practice." he said quietly, just when they stopped at what he supposed to be her trailer.
"I do not think Rue would agree." She flashed him a smile, opened the door and slipped inside, leaving it open for him. "You charmed her quite thoroughly."
The inside was exactly like the thousand trailers he had seen before it: small and crammed, every bit of space available exploited to the maximum. There was a single bed in the corner, a dressing table full of make-up that must have doubled as a desk and table since there were also papers, pens and a mug on it, a screen that probably hid a small bathroom, and two clothes rails full of dresses and costumes. Two clothes rails in such a tight place seemed over the top but before he could make the remark, she waved at him to take the stool in front of the dressing table and sat down at the foot of her bed.
The bed was made and he spotted boxes neatly lined up underneath. Actually, for a trailer, everything was too clean and he wondered if she was one of those people who had to obsessively control their environment.
"I cannot promise the salary will be fantastic." she warned. "And I am aware that you would be justified to ask for higher wages given your experience and…"
"I don't care much about money." he interrupted. "But I don't have any props and I don't have a trailer anymore."
"We can work something out, I am sure." she dismissed, reaching for a notebook next to him on the dresser.
The trailer really wasn't that big and when she leaned toward him, he caught a whiff of her perfume and a good look at her cleavage. Both of which made his blood ran straight south. He cleared his throat and crossed his legs, wedging his left ankle on his right knee in hope it would hide any telling sign. She shot him a look but if she figured it out, she was good enough not to comment.
The ledger was expertly kept. Rows of numbers aligned in black ink, all clear and annotated.
"I was shit at that." he remarked without a good reason, nodding at the notebook. He used to scribble down sums on various papers that he always ended up losing and nothing had aggravated him as much as being forced to keep tabs on everything.
"Language." she rebuked without even looking up. He wondered how much chiding she had to do around the kids on a daily basis to do it so mechanically. "I am very good at bookkeeping and I also excel at advertising. Show running, however, is not my forte."
"I'm great at show running." he admitted without an ounce of humility. It wasn't pride either. It was just a fact. He had always been good at it.
It wasn't surprising she was good with numbers though. She probably came from a fancy school. He had never been to school once in his life. All he knew, his mother or various members of the circus had taught him. He could read, he could write and he could count well enough. The rest… The rest he had taught himself or the army had given him a crash course in it.
Nobody had taught him how to kill either. It seemed he had just been a natural at it. But those thoughts he chased before they could suffocate him. Her trailer wasn't the right place to think about Nam – fortunately the bright colorful outfits blocked the green memories of the jungle well enough.
"Mags said so." she hummed. "She thought it was a shame you weren't in the business anymore."
He leaned over and fished his flask from the pocket of the jacket she still had over her shoulders. He didn't mean to brush her thigh on the way but… Her blue eyes were riveted on him and she licked her lips. He tilted his head a little to the side, studying her…
He might have put his hand back on her leg a little more purposefully if she hadn't cleared her throat. "So… You will become our new ringleader, a costume I will gladly hand over to you, and…"
"Ain't sure that corset would look that good on me…" he cut her off with a smirk that might have been a leer.
"Do not sell yourself short." she replied and it was almost a purr. Her eyes flickered down to his crossed legs and then back up. "As I was saying, you will become our ringleader and…"
"And that means I'm gonna be in charge of the show." he said firmly, all flirting put aside because if he was doing this, if he was seriously doing this, he wasn't going to dive into a failing business. "That also means you and your crew ain't gonna like some of the stuff I say but you're gonna have to trust I know what I'm doing."
"What will you change?" she asked in a matter of fact sort of voice. "I am aware we are not exceptional but…"
"You've got potential. Some of you." he shrugged, taking a sip of moonshine. "That fire girl?"
"Katniss." she supplied.
"Katniss, yeah." he repeated with a smile. "She's got something, that one. I can train her a bit, help her build a better act… That's your leading number right there. That's the one you want to advertise on."
"Alright." she accepted easily. "I do also plan on advertising you, you realize."
"Yeah." he sighed. He supposed that was part of the game. "I'm gonna need an assistant."
"Any of the girls will be willing, I believe." She nodded. "Rue, perhaps. She is good at following instructions."
"I need a woman not a little girl." he denied, eyes twinkling. "A sexy one." She pursed her lips and he lifted his hand and his flask defensively – or pretending to be defensive at least. "It's all about distracting the audience, sweetheart…"
"In this case, you can have Johanna." she replied. "She does love to parade around half naked."
Johanna, if he remembered right, was the one who threw axes. Young and pretty in her style.
"Too young." he refused.
"To distract the audience?" she mocked. Her expression didn't change but there was a sudden hard glint in her eyes. "I must warn you, as valuable as I would find your joining us, I would not take kindly to you seducing any of my girls. They are young and impressionable."
"You always talk like a dictionary?" he teased and, when she didn't bite, he rolled his eyes. "That's my point, sweetheart. Being a magician's assistant is more than just looking pretty… It means trust and a close working bond. That can lead to… other stuff and I don't really care to drag someone around who makes puppy eyes at me."
"Johanna will probably try to sleep with you before you leave camp tonight anyway." she predicted with aggravated resolve. "It's her way. Just say no and be clear about it."
"Possessive, are you?" he smirked.
"She is of age." she continued, ignoring him. "And so is Annie, so I suppose I cannot stop you from pursuing them but the other ones are not. Katniss and Glimmer are sixteen and seventeen respectively and if you so much as look at them the wrong way…"
"They're kids, the lot of them." he scoffed, more insulted than he let on. "Ain't that kind of pervert so save yourself the speech. I don't want the axe bird either, I want you."
The double-meaning hadn't been on purpose. Or if it had been it was his subconscious playing tricks on him.
The tension rose up a notch and he was suddenly very aware of the small space, the closed door and the closed window. Claustrophobia had never really been a problem before but right then…
"I am a trapeze artist." she pointed out.
He shrugged. "Who will double as a magician assistant without problems and who won't give me sass while she does it.".
She studied him for a few seconds and then looked away, her eyebrows twitching. "I would not be so confident about that."
But sass from her, he could take. Sass from a girl who looked barely twenty and who, he could tell from her performance alone, would think herself too good to be a mere distraction, not so much. She would either sulk or go the complete way around and be too sultry. Either way she would try to steal the spotlight.
Trinket, he was sure, would know what to do. She was good at keeping a mask on, two meetings had been enough to ascertain that.
"I will do it until we find someone else." she finally agreed as if people were in a habit of regularly wandering into her circus and staying. "Any other… requests?"
"Booze." he demanded, taking another sip of his flask to mark his word. "Enough of it to keep me going, not enough that I'm gonna be drunk on the ring. Can't have that if I'm gonna cut you in two…"
The distaste on her face was obvious. "Is that entirely necessary?"
He supposed she meant the booze and not the cutting.
"If you want me, yeah." He watched her, watched the distaste turn into reluctant acceptance.
"Very well." she gave in. "Anything else?"
"Yeah, one question…" And he had waited to ask it. He wasn't sure why because it was a glaring one. "Where are the other adults?"
She didn't seem surprised he had noticed. "As I said, Johanna and Annie are of age. So is Finnick. Gale and Thresh will be very soon."
"Ain't what I asked." he countered, folding his arms in front of his chest. "How come you're the only adult around?"
"Careful, Mr Abernathy, a woman vexes easily. Why, are you saying I look old?" she laughed.
He would have been hard-pressed to call her old. She couldn't be much more than twenty-five. Which raised a lot more of questions…
"Haymitch." he corrected. "You want this to work, stop calling me that. I'm just Haymitch."
"You never invited me to use your first name and, unlike you, I tend not to be rude about what I call people." she retorted with a coquettish smile that was aimed at distracting him, at making him forget what he had just asked. Yeah, she would be the perfect diversion to his tricks.
His lips twitched but he swallowed back his amusement. "Couldn't help noticing you've got at least five kids here that are of army age. You wouldn't be smuggling potential deserters all around the country now, right?"
She remained silent a little too long and then she leaned back, letting his jacket slip off her shoulders in a move that looked accidental but that he suspected to be purposeful. His gaze followed the leather as it brushed against the skin of her arms, wondering if it was as soft as it looked…
It had been too long since he had been with a woman. There had been a few after Mabel, drunken one night stands he had regretted in the morning and whose faces he couldn't remember… But the last one… The last one had been a while ago and Effie Trinket… Well… She was that kind of woman you couldn't help but desire. She exuded sensuality but not in a way that was off-putting. It was subtle, there in every breath but deniable if pressed. It was her confidence that attracted him the most though, the proud tilt of her chin, the way she refused to let him have the last word…
"And if I am?" she challenged, crossing her legs at the ankle. His eyes drifted there because that was the point anyway. She wanted him to look at her, to desire her… He wondered if she would have gone so far as to sleep with him to buy his silence and then decided it was better he didn't know.
"If you are, then I'm with you. No question asked." he offered.
She hadn't been certain she would get that answer, he could tell, but the tension left her shoulders at once and she flashed him a genuine bright smile that was somehow even more breathtaking than her seductive ones.
"Welcome to Capitol Circus, Haymitch."
Just to clarify because the question was raised last week: yes hayffie is younger than in canon (Haymitch is close to thirty when Effie is a little younger) but everyone else has canon age.
So what did you think of their talk? Are sparks already flying or what? Will they manage with Effie as his assistant? Will it be a total disaster? Let me know your thoughts!