Author's note: Another great Haymitch conversation! Enjoy!

~Katniss~

In a moment of lost clarity I had bought a wonderful pastry kit in a black leather case with a dozen different decorative tips for fancy frosting. I didn't take any time to think about, I just bought it. Peeta would love it. If only he were speaking to me. I tried to convince myself I had only bought it to help the seller (the same seller I had already bought 20 fresh rolls from). When I get home I slide it under a dresser, put stacks of books in front of it, and clear it from my mind.

At dinner things are quiet. We make small talk, still not used to our mother being alert and present. In a way she is just meeting us as a stranger and in a way she is. Neither Prim nor I are the innocent children we were before our father's death. "Want some pie? Peeta and I made it," Prim sets the china plate in front of me. The filling is fluffy and pink with a flaky brown crust. "Sure," I reply, not wanting to hurt my sister's feelings. I scoop a spoonful into my mouth and savor the sweet, creamy taste. "It's really good!" I smile her way as she devours her piece. She smiles a pastel cream filled smile back.

I decide I need to do some small meaningless task after we've eaten. I grab all of my arrows and clean the shafts of them. I take my time checking the tips for signs of damage and arrange them back in the sheath. Now what do I do? I decide to start making snares, when Prim walks into the living room and sits next to me on the couch. "These are for you," I pass her the cellophane bag of hard lemon candies. "Thanks! Want one?" she holds one out in the palm of her hand to me. "Why not? Thanks!" The taste of lemon is overpowering, but in a good way. It's sweet and bitter at the same time and makes my mouth water.

"So, how was your morning?" I ask her. "Oh, it was really good," she pauses and tucks her candy into her left cheek with her tongue, "Peeta and I made a pie from the Capitol. He's really wonderful, Katniss."

"Yeah..."

"We should have him over here tomorrow and he can teach you how to make it."

I know what she's up to. She knows I don't bake. "Maybe," is all I say. I'm getting good at deflecting people. "Katniss, can I ask you something?"

"Anything."

"Do you love Peeta still? Like you did during the Games?"

I feel like all of the air has been pushed out of my lungs. My mother and Prim are the only two people that believe our star crossed lovers routine that know Peeta and I have had a falling out. Love is a strange concept to me. I will lie. I'll make my sister happy. "Yes, but in a different way right now," when I finally speak the words out loud I feel at peace with them. As if it's maybe not a lie after all.

~Peeta~

Haymitch is no help. He's so drunk he's become fixated on non- existent french bread. I do end up baking him the bread, though. At dinner time we sit amongst the wreckage of his home and eat buttered bread until we can hold no more. We sit silently, he drinks as usual and dunks bread in white alcohol. "Boy, I'm gonna tell you something," he says gruffly. I sit in anticipation, slathering butter on a slice of bread. He continues, "When I came back from... You know. Before the booze, I tried to cope. I tried hard to live my life like I wanted. It changes you. I know you know that. Difference is, I went through it alone. Totally alone. No friends, no family. You have a person who went with you and came back with you. Saw it all. Felt it ALL! Making peace with her ain't gonna fix everything. Hell, you're still gonna be miserable. You know what though? You're gonna be miserable with someone else." "Aren't I already miserable with you, though?"

"Dammit boy, pass me the butter."

I sigh, I know he's right. Who else would understand the anger, sadness and nightmares but Katniss?

We eat all of the bread and butter, I can feel it sticking to my insides. "Thanks for dinner," Haymitch yawns. My cue to leave. "Thank you for the advice. Good night. See you for breakfast, I'm sure." He nods and makes shooing motions with his hand. I can't help but laugh at his antics. I just fed him dinner and this is his way of thanking me. I close the door quietly, and head for home.

It occurs to me that I have very few hours until Katniss' birthday and I've gotten her nothing. I need something special. Suddenly it hits me. I know exactly what to do for her.