A/N: This isn't my best, not by a long shot, but come on, there's no way in hell I could resist that Halloween prompt/quote from the Hayffie podcast:
"Why would the Capitol celebrate Halloween? You're already in costume 24/7."This is just a little bit of light relief from the Spooky Hayffie things I've been posting. Basically, it's not spooky in the least. It's halloween themed, so I'm gonna post it as part of the mini-series anyway. Oh and it's not edited properly. I just whipped it up real quick. Excuse any mistakes/typos and, hopefully, enjoy. :)
-Ellie.
"Haymitch!" Her ridiculously chipper voice breaks through his whiskey-induced haze. He sighs, watching his bedroom door, just waiting for her to invade his privacy again. She doesn't knock – she stopped bothering when he stopped answering her about… was it 3 years ago? He can't remember. He doesn't really care. She bursts into his room; a whirl of color disturbing the peaceful dim light he surrounds himself in. He finds that light makes his headaches worse. Effie tends to have the same effect.
"Ah, Haymitch! There you are!" She trills, flashing him her obnoxiously wide smile. He swears one day she's gonna over do it and break her pretty little face – not that he thinks she's pretty. Course he doesn't. "I have a costume for you! Now, get changed. We are expected downstairs at the party in approximately 60 minutes, and we shall be there in no more than 50."
He watches her in confusion as she hangs a strange looking outfit on the door to his closet, making him jump into action.
"Wait just one minute, woman! What costume? What party? Who says I'm going to any damn party?"
"This has been planned for months, Haymitch! Really! It is the Capitol's most exclusive Halloween party. The President himself will be there, and-"
He interrupts her with a scoff. The President. How lucky he is to have an invite. She glares at him, her hands on her hips. He smirks at her
"It's a celebration, Haymitch, and we are going."
"Why would the Capitol celebrate Halloween? You're already in costume 24/7."
She takes a deep breath, clearly trying to remain calm.
"I'm going to ignore that remark, Haymitch, and I'm going to pretend that instead of acting like the petulant child you so clearly are, you simply agreed with me for once in your life. I am going to imagine that you're simply doing as you're told."
He stands up, crossing the room to her easily, not drunk enough to stagger yet.
"Listen here, Trinket. You are not my mother. You are not my boss. You are my Escort. You know what that means, sweetheart? It means you don't get to tell me what to do, you don't get to control me, and you don't get to act all superior. I'm not going to any damn party, woman. I'm gonna stay here where it's nice and quiet, and I'm gonna drink until I pass out. You understand?" He finds his face just inches away from hers. She's clearly disgusted, leaning back, trying to put as much distance in between them as she can. It's times like these he's glad he drinks hard liquor. Damn woman can't stand it. He gives her a smug grin, purposefully lifting his bottle and taking a large gulp, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. She snaps.
"You know what? You listen, Abernathy." She hisses, jabbing him in the chest with a perfectly manicured finger. He flinches, her deadly nail feeling like it's breaking through his skin. "I will not allow you to tarnish our reputation any further than you already have. You are a constant embarrassment! I have had enough of you making me look like a fool!" She jabs him again and he hisses in pain.
"Damn, woman! Okay. I get it!" He gives in, holding his hands up in surrender, but she's not finished yet. At this point, he's the one leaning away from her. She's moved forward, murmuring threateningly right in his face.
"Now, you will put on the damn costume and stop acting like a pathetic little child, and you will do so promptly!" She growls, and Haymitch feels genuinely intimidated by the small, seemingly harmless woman. "Are we clear?"
She looks at him expectantly, a dangerous glint in her eyes. He can tell she's pissed off. He figures he might as well let her have this little victory. He doesn't have to actually enjoy the party, but it's an excuse to drink with Chaff. He nods, glaring right back at her. That irritating smile appears on her face immediately, and he's a little startled at how fast she can make that switch. She straightens up, smiles brightly at him, and heads to the door.
"Lovely! I'm sure you will look just wonderful in your costume. We're matching, you know!" She beams, watching as he pokes the costume and scowls.
"Wait, what the hell are we even dressing as? What is this?" He growls, poking the costume once more. She giggles, shaking her head.
"You're a pirate, silly, and I shall be a matching piratess." She announces, smiling a little too wide for the situation.
"That's not a word, Effie. There's no such thing as a piratess." He grumbles, pulling the costume down from its hanger.
"Of course it is, you silly man!" She trills, giggling. He just shakes his head. He knows she's not exactly the brightest light in the Capitol. "Now change! I want to see what you look like!" She claps her hands excitedly and he rolls his eyes.
"I'll change if you do." He reasons, secretly just wanting to see if his suspicions about her costume are correct. He knows there's no such thing as a piratess. A "Sexy pirate" however? That he's heard of. He watches her leave the room; smirking at the image his mind conjures up of her costume.
He changes, deciding to humor her and kill the time until she returns, and when she does, he realizes he picked a bad time to chug down some more whiskey. He chokes as she enters the room, his eyes widening at her revealing costume.
"Haymitch! You look divine!" She squeals, over-excited. He smirks; enjoying the view he's got of her right now.
"You… uh…" He chuckles, eyeing up the low cut of her costume's top. "You look nice. Never thought I'd see Effie Trinket in a sexy pirate costume."
"It is not a sexy pirate!" She snaps, her face flushing crimson under her surprisingly thin make-up. "It's a piratess! I told you!" She insists. His eyes travel to the skirt - a loose fitting number that can only just be considered anything more than a belt – and his gaze continues to travel down to the brown, high-heeled, leather boots that stretch up to just below her knee.
"If you insist, sweetheart." He grins as he downs the rest of his bottle. She shakes her head, glaring at him as she marches over to lead him to the party.
"For once, you look acceptable!" She compliments him. He scowls.
"This is the most uncomfortable thing I've ever worn in my life. Is the hat necessary!?" He complains. She giggles.
"It completes the look. I have my own too, you see?" She reaches up to touch the small, girly hat, precariously balanced on top of her natural blonde curls.
"Nice hair." He murmurs, smirking at her, enjoying watching her squirm as she's forced to flaunt her natural look for a change.
"Yes, well, the hat wouldn't stay on my wig." She mutters, clearly annoyed about it. "Anyway!" She exclaims brightly, "Let's go!" She beams up at him. He sighs, but allows her to drag him towards the elevator.
If anything, he figures he'll have a nice night eyeing up her body in that costume.