Prompt: one night after either having too much to drink or a particularly horrid day it hits Effie that, in theory, she has contributed, aided, and supported the murder of thousands of children. Haymitch tries to comfort her (maybe even Cinna too) (perhaps saying she was brought up to believe it was right), but no one can make it any better, because it is true what she is saying. Idk make of this what you will c:

Guilt

"It's a bit more complicated than that, Haymitch." Cinna pointed out, before taking a sip of his glass of wine.

Effie did the same, aware they had all drunk a bit too much and that they were discussing things that would be better left for another place than the rocking train rushing to District Six. Portia had excused herself hours ago, as had Katniss and Peeta, but Effie had stayed, a silent witness to the growing heated debate between Haymitch and Cinna.

"How can it be more complicated?" Haymitch snorted. "Capitol citizens watch and enjoy the show and never, ever, think twice about it. They're as guilty as Snow, the Gamemakers or the escorts."

Cinna's eyes slid to her but Effie didn't even shiver.

"I think you're thinking too much in terms of black and white." Cinna said. "Try some grey, Haymitch."

"Try to send kids in an arena knowing they're going to be slaughtered in the first few minutes and then come back to me, Cinna." Haymitch snapped, downing his glass in one go and pouring himself another. He wasn't drinking wine but whiskey and Effie found herself yearning for the bitter taste rather than the sweetness of the wine.

"But you don't send children in the arena." she commented slowly. "I do." Haymitch's hands stilled, bottle and glass frozen in mid-air. "I pick them up, I give them food, I scold them for their lack of manners and then I send them on their merry way to die."

"And here's your shade of grey." Cinna sighed, with a pointed look for Haymitch. "Effie, I think you had too much to drink. Why don't I take you back to your room?"

"Why? Because I'm telling the truth and it bothers you?" she asked, putting her drink back on the coffee table. She stood up gracefully and walked to the liquor cart to get a cocktail glass. She wanted something stronger than wine. "Haymitch is right, Cinna. We're all guilty. I more than others." There was a collection of strong liquors, she chose the only untouched bottle of whiskey left. Haymitch's favorite poison. Well… He could share. She poured herself a drink slowly, her hands were shaking.

"That's not totally true." Cinna argued. "They raise you to believe this is right. Why would Capitol citizens think it's wrong? Why would you, Effie?"

She didn't dare turn around to face them. Haymitch's silence wasn't lost on her. "I think you're trying to comfort yourself with technicalities, Cinna, because it is easier than to accept the fact that you're friend with a monster." She smiled bitterly. Monsters… That's what most people called the inhabitants of the Districts: monsters, barbarians, savages… She had called them that too in her youth. Who were the real barbarians, she wondered, the ones who didn't possess the means to access better education or those – supposedly advanced – who took children to throw them in an arena? "Do you know how they call escorts in Three?"

"Effie…" Cinna begged but she still didn't turn around.

"Angels of death." She shrugged and took a mouthful of whiskey. It burned all the way down. "It's fitting I guess. We're beautiful and deadly." She giggled but it came out more like a sob. "You should design me a white dress, Cinna, with golden trim perhaps."

The sound of glass hitting the table and then there was a presence behind her. She thought it would be Cinna but the hands that rand down her arms in an attempt at comfort were familiar in a way Cinna's would never be. Haymitch took the glass from her and downed that one too before putting it back on the cart. She wanted to lean against him but she didn't dare. "I'm a monster." she said again.

"Don't be stupid, sweetheart." he huffed, forcing her to turn around to face him. "Monsters don't have remorse."

His grey eyes were pained and understanding but she didn't want his compassion. He should be angry with her. He should hate her like he hated every other Capitol citizen.

"I still killed all those children." She folded her arms protectively on her chest.

"And you regret it." He insisted. "That's the difference between you and them. You're no monster."

"Technicalities." Her voice cracked and he tried to hug her but she pushed him back. "You should be repelled by me. You should…"

"Don't tell me what I should be." Haymitch growled. "That's precisely the problem. You, Capitols, telling us, Districts, what to be and do." His face softened a bit. "When I look at you, I don't see a Capitol woman, I see you, Effie. You're not like them to me." On the couch, Cinna rolled his eyes, probably because it had been his point all along, she didn't see what he did next because Haymitch grabbed her chin gently and forced her to look at him. "You feel guilty? Good. That means you're human. That means there's hope for you yet. Do you let the guilt crush you ? No. You take it and you do something with it. You help me and the kids go through this Victory Tour from hell, and, then… Then we'll see when we get there."

She gripped his wrist and he released her face. "But I killed them." She had never said that aloud before. The thought had crossed her mind, now and then, but she had never ever uttered those words aloud before that night. "I'm a murderer."

"We're all murderers." Haymitch shrugged. She shook her head. It didn't make it better. It didn't make it easier. "Come on, princess." His voice was pleading, like he was at a loss for what to say next. She took a step forward, invading his personal space. She didn't deserve his embrace but when he tried to wrap his arms around her shaking figure, this time she let him. She didn't deserve his embrace or his forgiveness but she took it anyway because she was selfish and, deep down, a monster. Nothing he said could assuage the guilt. Nothing would make it go away. That was something she would carry to her grave.