Author's Note: I changed the title to 'Haymitch's Last Stand'. To my embarassment I found out that my previous title was already taken - my apologies to boreduntilnoend. Thank you to Keep going for the review.
Chapter 4: A Treaty of Sorts
Haymitch filled his empty flask with a clear liqueur that flowed artfully from a seven-tiered fountain.
"Would you like anything to drink sir?" An attendant asked him as he sat down.
He considered. He was going to have to try to sober up if he was going to try to help the girl with Maysilee's pin. But he couldn't do it cold turkey. Cutting the alcohol would be start. "Cranberry juice," he asked with a slow smile.
The boy tribute was the first to join him. The boy's smile flashed too wide. "How are you this morning? Feeling better I hope."
Haymitch never enjoyed false gestures of friendship, but there was something sincere beneath the lie. Haymitch would have to pick apart this boy's actions at some later point. He poured just a bit of the white liqueur into the juice and sipped thoughtfully. "Much better," he said.
"I could get you something to eat from the buffet?" The boy asked, clearly eager to be helpful.
"No thanks kid. I'm drinking my breakfast this morning."
"Do you really think that's wise?"
Haymitch rolled back in his seat. "I try to avoid being wise these days."
"Could you tell me what we'll need to do to make getting sponsors easier?"
At that point the girl burst into the room. When her gaze fell on Haymitch, rage filled her eyes. She sat down next to him and glared at him.
"So you're supposed to give us advice?" She spat.
"Here's some advice: Stay alive." He retorted.
"That's very funny." The boy said as he rolled his eyes, and clearly trying to share a moment of exasperation with the girl. Haymitch didn't like that look. There was a bond between the two kids that Haymitch didn't understand. He decided without really thinking about it to pull a thread in the fabric of the moment, and see if he could unravel their relationship.
Haymitch punched Peeta in the mouth splitting his lip.
The girl immediately drove a knife between his fingers, and pierced him with a look of open hostility.
"What's this? Did I actually get a pair of fighters this year?" He laughed. This was better then he could have ever hoped for.
The boy pulled some ice out of the fountain, and started to raise the ice to his moth.
"No. Let the bruise show. They'll think you got into a fight with one of the other tributes."
"Isn't that illegal?" The girl asked.
"Only if you get caught, sweetheart. Can you hit anything with that knife besides the table?"
She yanked the knife out the table and then threw it across the table into a seam between two panels. Every movement of hers was deft and intentional. He looked at her carefully and recognized his own grey seam eyes. He sighed. He had no idea how she had gotten the pin, and he had no idea if he could keep her alive. But he would try.
"Stand over here. Both of you." He indicated the middle of the room, and examined them both carefully. "You're both fit and strong enough," he commented. "Not entirely hopeless. I'll offer you a deal. I'll sober up enough to help you, but you'll have to do exactly what I say." They boy's eyes were the guileless blue of a sheltered town boy. These two shouldn't be friends. Just like he wasn't meant to be friends with Maysilee.
They both paused, apparently considering their options. If they were smart they would realize that had no options. It was Haymitch Abernathy or a games execution. Hell, even if they picked him, it would still probably end in a games execution.
The tributes looked at each other, silently communicating in a language unknown to Haymitch. Again, he told himself, he would need to figure out how these two were connected, and how he could use their connection to his advantage.
