The next afternoon, Haymitch drags Effie with him to the town centre when he goes to get his jaw looked at. She's been carefully avoiding heading anywhere near the town centre ever since she arrived and he thought it was high time she made the trip.

"C'mon sweetheart, this was your idea by the way, and don't worry," he smirks despite the pain in his jaw, "No one's going to bother you when you're with me,"

"And that bruise forming on your face definitely shows that you can defend yourself, let alone me," she huffs.

Haymitch is right again, no one seems to notice her as they walk across the square towards the clinic nestled between the post office and the bank. As they enter they're immediately hit by the odour of disinfectant and the slightly sickly smell that all clinics and hospitals seem to have. It reminds Effie of her days in the hospital and she suppresses a shudder. The secretary takes down his name and in a few minutes they're called into the doctor's room.

Effie nearly stops in her tracks, stunned, because standing right before her is the redheaded woman who was talking to Haymitch the evening she arrived. She smiles brightly instead.

"Hello, I'm Dr. Manning," she introduces herself, offering her hand to shake.

"Effie Trinket," she takes the hand.

"Yes I remember, I treated you while you were hospitalised,"

Effie tilts her head in puzzlement. She doesn't remember this woman.

"So Doc," Haymitch cuts in, "What do you make of this?"

He angles his head so she can examine it. She prods it a few times before sighing in exasperation.

"You really ought to be more careful. How did you get it?"

He ignores the question and just asks one of his own, "What do I have to do? Drink more alcohol to numb the pain?"

Effie rolls her eyes and Dr. Manning shakes her head in irritation, "It's not too bad. Just stick an ice pack on it to take the swelling down, and a heat pack on it to relieve cramping in the muscles,"

"And have someone kiss it better?" he catches Effie's eyes and smirks at her.

Effie rolls her eyes again but she can feels her cheeks colour so she turns away from them and examines a poster about the skull on the wall.

"Whatever makes you happy, Haymitch," Manning shrugs, glancing between him and Effie, smiling mischievously.

Seeing her knowing smile causes him to turn away from her too, yanking the door open and huffing out.

"I'm starving, Eff," he calls, annoyed, "Let's see if we can get Peeta to make some cinnamon buns,"

Effie crosses her arms at his rude behaviour and thanks the doctor before she moves to follow him but Manning stops her for a moment.

"He's lucky to have you," she smiles benignly.

Effie immediately flushes, "Oh no, we're not… Haymitch and I are…. Not like that,"

Manning pays no heed to the flustered Effie and continues, "You know he came in everyday to see you while you were still unconscious,"

That takes Effie by surprise but before she can reply, Haymitch grumbles from the entrance of the clinic, "I'm going to leave without you if you don't hurry up,"

Effie just sends Manning an embarrassed smile before walking after him. They step out into the square and she's struck by how much reconstruction The Capitol has done for Twelve in such a short time. The square isn't very busy and there are a lot of newly built, empty shops surrounding it, but life is slowly returning to the district. They stroll leisurely towards Victor's Village and Effie can't quite hold it in anymore.

"You're rather friendly with her," she tries to sound casual and teasing.

He snorts, "She's rather friendly with me,"

She's not sure if she should feel comforted by that or not.

"So she treated me back in The Capitol?"

"For awhile," he mutters, "She got sent assigned to other patients when you woke up,"

"Oh!" she exclaims, "I should get something to thank her. It's only courteous anyway,"

He just grunts.

When they arrive back home, he opens up another bottle of whiskey and takes a mouthful of it before settling down on the sofa, careful to avoid his throbbing jaw while Effie takes off towards Peeta's house, in pursuit of some cinnamon buns. He drifts in and out of consciousness, sometimes dreaming sometimes not. When he does, he dreams of Effie. Not of her all done up in The Capitol, but of her the evening she arrived. His mind fixates on the moment he laid his eyes on her.

He was laughing at something Manning said, something he wouldn't normally find funny but in his mild drunkenness did, when he heard the glass shatter. His head turned towards the sound instinctively and he frowned momentarily at the blond headed woman angled away from him, apologising at the man she bumped into. He squinted, confused, because that woman looked so much like Effie.

He had only seen her stripped of her Capitol attire once in the ten years that they worked together. They were on the train, the tributes already asleep, and he stumbled, half drunk, towards her room and barged in without knocking. She shrieked in shock, whipping around in her bathrobe, her honey hair tumbling over her bare face, and God. God, he knew that he would never be able to forget that image of her. He tried, over the years, to catch another glimpse of her like that, but ever since his unwelcome intrusion she always made a point to lock her door.

Her pink dress fell just above her knees, the dying light gave her exposed skin a warm glow and when she turned back from the man her eyes met his and he knew, he knew, it was her. He didn't know how to react because she was here. Here in Twelve. Here within twenty feet of him. He wondered if his face did something wrong because before he could even get the first syllable of her name past his lips, she ran. He called out to her without a second thought and when she didn't show any signs of slowing down or stopping he shamelessly ran after her.

Haymitch is vaguely aware of a warmth by his jaw and he frowns, turning away from it, but it chases after him anyway. He feels the heat spread throughout his face and when he feels his muscles relax, he resigns to it. His eyes reluctantly flutter open and he's greeted by the sight of the very person he was dreaming of, kneeling by the sofa, pressing a warm cloth to is jaw. Night has fallen and the yellow glow coming from the lights in the house gives her skin a soft diffused look in the dimness. They stare at each other for a few moments, grey meeting blue, and neither of them breathe. Effie is the first to tear her eyes from his, slowly pulling her hand away from his face.

"You looked… tense," she explains, voice barely above a whisper.

She shifts to get up but his hand darts out to her own, holding her in place.

"It feels good," he murmurs softly, moving her hand back to its position below his cheek.

He closes his eyes again, unable to bear her gaze and it takes every fibre of her self-restraint to stop herself from reaching out and caressing his face. Her heart is beating rapidly against her ribcage and she can feel his breath become slightly more shallow as she presses the cloth to his skin. They stay like that, unmoving, until the cloth has lost all its heat. She drops it in the sink before making her way to her room with a soft 'Goodnight' and with a calmness she doesn't feel. When he hears her room door close he lets out a breath he wasn't aware he was holding. He runs his hands roughly down his face and glances upwards in the direction of her room before slouching back down on the sofa, willing his pulse to slow down.