Katniss was still not on good speaking terms with him the following morning as they arrived for training. Both were secretly against it, her because she was hesitant to take allies after the incident with Rue, and him because he was just offering himself up as bait for those who didn't already know that he was no fighter. He might be more physically fit and younger than a good portion of the tributes (nearly half, actually), but even with the strict regime of training in District 12 by demand of Katniss, he was still nowhere near as robust as Brutus, Sickle, Gloss, or Finnick.

By the time the two of them arrived at the training facility, groups had already started to form out of the ones that put in an appearance this early. The Careers from 1 and 2 claimed the fire starting station which would definitely come in handy since not one in the four of them were able to start fires the last time around. Blight and Johanna were taking turns warming up their muscles with axe throwing: he favored a double-bladed weapon where hers had one side. Chaff, Woof, and Cobalt were jokingly selecting weapons at the rack. Shade had called on one of the on duty stand-ins to battle against while dangling from ropes. Tilly and Lash were tinkering with pre-detonated explosives that beeped with every failed deactivation or attempt to plant them. But Denno had his head down as always, inconspicuously working on a snare with Mags and Cecelia.

Spread the word. That was the last bit of advice Haymitch had given his fellow tribute before they parted on the elevator the day before and it pleased him to see that Denno had taken it to heart.

The morphlings, Sickle, Finnick, and Seeder had not yet come down, but Haymitch didn't rule out the possibility of recruiting them—except maybe Finnick. If Mags was sold, he would be too, but once she went down out there, he might have a change of heart.

"Mingle, sweetheart," Haymitch muttered to Katniss, setting off for the very back where Beetee and Wiress were consulting the overhead projector on which plants were edible. Wiress reached for one with bright orange edges and with hardly any effort as if he expected it, Beetee grabbed her elbow and lowered it with a shake of his head, still reading the pamphlet above.

Haymitch gave Wiress a warm smile and leaned over, pretending to rummage in a box of sample plants that were less toxic when dried out. "Katniss," he said, hardly moving his lips.

Beetee pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose and crushed a mixture of leaves and berries before placing them on the scanner to test for safety. He was rewarded with a pleasant ding and Wiress clapped. Under cover of her applause, Beetee replied, "Yes."

To avoid suspicion Haymitch spent another half hour at the same station, trying in vain to pick out one plant from another but in the back of his mind he assured himself that Katniss could just keep him on track with those. Unhealthy mindset for someone going into the Games, automatically relying on another tribute for survival. Glancing around casually he was able to keep tabs on Katniss who was actually getting on well with Gloss at the camouflage station and Denno who had circulated to Tilly and Lash. Haymitch caught his eye and then jerked his head under the pretense of clearing his hair from his face towards Mags who had now been joined by Finnick. Denno nodded once.

That makes six if Finnick and Cecelia are in too. Seven including me. Seven so far out of twenty-three.

Haymitch had his doubts about 1 and 2 seeing the deal through to the end, even if they did want Katniss in the beginning stages to help hunt down the other tributes. Avis and Lorn were another issue since they had as much to give as Mags physically but not so lucky as her to have a protector like Finnick. That left Sickle, Cobalt, and Shade for varying reasons, most of them relying on the fact that Haymitch didn't trust them, not this time around. Ten versus fourteen with all the brutish and savage tributes on the opposing sides.

"Haymitch, over here," called Enobaria from the knife-throwing simulation. Knowing he was in for disgrace in front of the Gamemakers, Haymitch trudged over to where she stood balancing a knife on her fingertip. "Still sleep with one of these?" she asked.

"Wouldn't you?" he shot back.

"Not if I knew I could kill anyone who snuck up on me while I was sleeping with my bare hands—or teeth." She flashed him her pearly jagged whites but he held his ground.

"I don't have much of an appetite when I wake up, though."

Enobaria blanched and then turning the knife point down, shouted, "Catch!"

Haymitch stepped back in reaction but he could not stop his hand from shooting upward to try and grab the knife. The blade hit the ground next to his foot and Enobaria nodded in a satisfied sort of way. She had him now. Not only had he failed to completely move out of the way of the knife, but he had also fumbled it. She would pass it on to Brutus and District 1 that he, Haymitch, should be an early finish.

"You take care, Haymitch," she said derisively and strode off to join her district partner.

Fuming, Haymitch swiped up the knife from where it had fallen and chucked it blindly at the wall. Cold, thick concrete could not break under the force of a thrown steel knife, but after the clang of the blade on the ground alerted the entire facility of his actions, Haymitch decided to at least go and retrieve it, knowing the Gamemakers were still watching. To his rather dazed surprise, he found a quarter inch indent in the concrete where the knife had struck but not embedded. Either he had superhuman strengths unknown or this was some top quality steel he held in his hand.

"Don't look so surprised or everyone will think you didn't plan that," said Sickle, stabbing a spear point repeatedly into the ground in a bored sort of fashion. Haymitch started to reply but Sickle followed up with a sharp, "Seriously. Everyone thinks you meant to do that so at least try to look convincing."

"And you don't think I meant to?"

"I know you didn't. You're one of those tributes that doesn't have a signature weapon or tactic. You won by using a weapon you weren't supposed to have. Now, I don't know what skills you demonstrated in your private sessions the first time around but it couldn't have been impressive because you got a six as your training score, didn't you?"

"A seven," said Haymitch defensively. "And I made controlled fireballs with oil, rags, and a makeshift catapult but I never got the chance to light a fire in the arena."

"Fireballs?" Sickle scoffed. "Of course they didn't give you the chance to try out your skill; you'd have set the entire meadow on fire."

"What did you do that earned you your eight?" asked Haymitch, now thoroughly annoyed with the superior card Sickle was playing.

"I swallowed poison," the bigger man responded in all seriousness though Haymitch had difficulty believing that one.

"Have you seen Katniss shoot yet?"

The question was abrupt in context of the conversation, but perhaps he could ease into the subject to find out Sickle's loyalties. A man who put himself up for slaughter twice to save family and the elderly had to have some sense of unity, of rebellion. He would want those people well cared for in light of his impending death. Right?

"Yeah, I have." He winked.

That's eight.

Just then there came a deafening crash as Lorn accidentally bumped into Brutus and Cobalt's painting supplies, knocking the lot of it to the ground and spilling paint onto their shoes. Brutus made a menacing step towards the male morphling who slipped in his haste to retreat and cowered where he fell. The stand-by guards blew their whistles and closed in on Brutus but he never even touched Lorn. Someone so heavily influenced by medication was already thoroughly damaged and the threat of a beating was enough to make him surrender, something Brutus knew since he had been intimidating people for nearly thirty years. He stomped off to get his shoes cleaned up while Avis and Blight helped Lorn to his feet. Cobalt returned to painting his dirk to match his clothing, making him appear unarmed.

Haymitch pulled up a stool beside him but did not even bother to appear as if he had the slightest interest in camouflaging anything. His mood had gone from relieved to confrontational in less than a minute.

"You're wasting valuable time, Haymitch," said Cobalt without looking at him. "You should be sharpening up on something that might actually win you a decent score in your private session."

Haymitch knocked the dirk out of Cobalt's hand. Cobalt went into a defensive stance in anticipation of further attack. "What the hell was that for?" he growled.

"The hell do you think you're doing?" Haymitch demanded. "Teaming up with the Career pack, are you? That's a good way to turn everyone else against you."

"Maybe I have a strategy worked out, dear friend," Cobalt replied sardonically. "Perhaps it's the safe bet to side with the Careers this time around seeing as how I nearly got my skull taken off when I stayed with 6 and 7 the last time." He gestured to his forehead above his right eyebrow where the skin was pulled up, giving him an asymmetrical appearance from where the tribute girl from 4 had tried to slice off his head with a razor sharp throwing disc.

"So you've already left the drinking game, is that it? You'd drop the rest of us just like that without even having the dignity to apologize for what's to come or to say goodbye?" Betrayal had never quite stung like this. Cobalt was always the oddest of the group, but between the last Games and the present, his attitude towards previous friends, particularly Haymitch had turned hostile.

"It's going to happen anyway whether you like it or not, Haymitch. I'm prepared for my friends to slip a knife between my ribs. You think Chaff and Woof are going to link arms with you and sing shanties while everyone else gets killed around them? No, they'll resort to any means of survival they can and pick off anyone who stands in their way whether they pose a threat like the Careers or not like that coward who let Brutus bully him. Even if you've reserved yourself to die, your body and mind will react against your will. You'll fight for survival and do anything necessary to come out victor. Anyone who still believes that friendship will outlast the Hunger Games will be the first to die, believe me."

That's five strikes against us.

"Alright, I see how it is now. Glory over humanity. Well, you have fun out there, buddy." He put as much contempt as he could into the last word and pushed the rest of Cobalt's painting supplies off of the table. "And one more thing: go to hell."

A water spigot hammered into the wall marked the refreshment stand and Haymitch parked himself at it, tossing a cupful of water into his face to cool the steam building up inside his head. The first betrayal of the 75th Hunger Games and they weren't yet in the arena. Fantastic.