Dance

After five minutes of searching through Haymitch Abernathy's filthy pockets Effie finally found his room key. By now she was absolutely furious with him. She loved the numerous events and festivities she was obligated to attend as an Escort; she adored the dressing up in ballgowns, the scrumptious food, the socialising. But her favourite part of all was the dancing.

But there was to be none of that for Effie Trinket tonight - the District 12 mentor had made yet another scene and she had been asked to "escort" him from the building.

Lifting a heel she jabbed the nearly catatonic man propped against the door-jamb. He didn't move so she did it again - harder.

"Wake up."

It took all of her strength to haul him to his feet and shove him through the door. The movement roused Haymitch from his stupor and he began to stumble towards the bed, shedding clothing as he went.

"I am still here Haymitch," Effie trilled, a note of panic in her voice.

At her voice he spun around. He had stripped off everything but his trousers, and Effie was thankful that she had spoken up in time. He eyed her suspiciously.

"Why're you in my room?" He slurred.

Shaking her head, Effie turned to the door. "No reason, I am just leaving. Goodnight."

"Effie?" she stopped, fingers curled around the doorknob. "I'm sorry that you didn't get to dance."

She glanced back - Haymitch was reclined mostly on the bed, arm thrown over his head with one grey eye gauging her reaction.

Effie pursed her lips. Etiquette demanded a response to an apology, but she was still cross at him.

"It is okay, Haymitch." She managed to force out.

"S'not though, really... Cuz you love it, and you're good at it, and I was sick in that punchbowl, and that man tried to drink it..."

Against all her breeding a small giggle burst out of Effie's mouth. Raylex Littlejohn's face had been priceless when he had realised what was in his champagne flute. She pressed her fingers to her lips, stifling the noise - not wanting to condone Haymitch's bad behaviour.

"You smile properly when you're dancing," Haymitch continued, ignoring her outburst "Without all them teeth. S'like you relax, you look real pretty then."

Effie felt herself redden at the unintentional compliment.

"And I get to watch you shake yer tush".

She laughed again - half exasperated, half amused.

"Go to sleep Haymitch." She moved to drag the covers over his prone form.

He reached up, cupped her face and traced the curve of her mouth with his fingertip. Effie moved back, startled at the soft touch. He was like this sometimes when drunk, surprisingly gentle and insightful rather than the bitter cynic he usually portrayed.

"Eff, will you dance with me next time? I like your real smile." His eyes were already closed. She tucked his errant hand under the blanket, and pressed a kiss to his temple. He infuriated her so but at the same time there was something deep inside her that always responded to him.

"I would love to, if you would only ask me when you are sober," she told his dozing form.

She was well aware that he would remember none of this the next day.