Prompt : Hey, could you please do a prompt based on the line "Of course, he had seen her lose it like that a few times along the years – even Effie Trinket couldn't be at her best every day over almost thirteen years of working together" from HaDS? Thanks!
To be honest I don't know what this is XD I think it's bad. Sorry. I tried.
Behind the Mask
The noise made Haymitch jump awake.
His first instinct was to look out for the threat, not even noticing the bottle that escaped his numb fingers and crashed on the floor. It took him a few seconds to realize he was in the penthouse's living-room and the sun had set somewhere between the time he had started getting drunk and now. The room was dark and the noises coming from the hall didn't make any sense to him.
He tested out his balance because he knew he was drunk but he also knew strange noises in the penthouse could mean a number of things from Snow finally getting tired of him and sending people to finish him to crazy fans who had outwitted security – and that happened more often than they cared to admit. When he didn't fall after a few steps, he stumbled to the corridor to investigate.
He had been expecting a lot of things but not Trinket struggling with her shoe. She was bent almost in two, trying remain upright balanced on her left high heel, while trying to undo the right shoe that, he could see, had a broken heel. She was having trouble staying upright and regularly gave up on her attempts to unlace the stilettos to clutch the nearby table or the wall.
"You're drunk." he accused.
She startled very badly – justice, he thought –overbalanced and fell back on her ass. Haymitch thought she would have better luck with getting rid of her shoe that way and, in his opinion, a round of thanks would have been in order. He knew she would probably not see it that way though, so he was rather expecting a screaming match.
She didn't shout at once. Her shoulders were shaking, her head was bowed and he thought she was laughing.
"What's so funny?" he asked, stumbling closer until he could nudge her leg with his foot.
"Don't touch me." she growled, her head snapping up so she could glare at him.
It appeared obvious, at that second, that she wasn't laughing. She was crying. Very, very badly crying.
"What's wrong?" he frowned, fighting against the liquor slowing down his brain.
Effie Trinket never cried if she could help it. He knew that.
"Men." she spat. "That's what's wrong."
That didn't sound good even to his drunken brain.
He crouched next to her since she was showing no intention of getting up, careful not to touch her given that she didn't want him to. He eyed the broken heel, her tears stained cheeks smudged with make-up and her shaking hands, and suddenly he felt very, very sober.
"Sweetheart…" he asked with some caution. "Did someone hurt you?"
There was a growl in his voice, he realized. He hoped no one had forced themselves on her because if they did… If they did, they were dead.
No one hurt his escort and lived to tell the tale.
She seemed to understand what he wasn't quite openly asking because she recoiled.
"Nothing like that." she sobbed, wiping her cheeks with her hands even though it didn't stop fresh tears from coming. "It was Venzio, he… I don't know what got into him. I said I was too tired to go back to his place and he grabbed me and accused me of things and… I don't think he would have hurt me but I was so scared. He kept getting angrier and angrier and…" She shook her head, rubbed her cheeks again and took a deep breath. "I am fine. Nothing happened. I have handled it."
Venzio was her current boyfriend – or not so current now, he guessed.
He wondered who she was trying to convince with her reasonable voice, her or him.
"Sure you're not hurt?" he insisted, glancing dubiously at the broken heel.
"He wouldn't let go of me so I stomped on his foot." she sniffed. "I think I broke it. The foot not the shoe, the shoe is obviously beyond repair." She buried her face in her hands, embarrassed or sad, he didn't know. "God, I'm such an idiot."
"You're a lot of stupid things but not an idiot." he argued. "He tried to hurt you before?"
"No, he is usually sweet." she said. "I don't understand."
"You're not in love or some shit, right?" Haymitch frowned. "'Cause that kind of guys, they will act all sweet and tell you it was only once and it won't happen again but it will happen again and next time it won't be his foot that will get broken, it will be your arm or your nose."
"Believe me, I am not going near him ever again." she argued. "I was too scared." She took a few deep breaths. "I am fine. Nothing happened. I am fine. Now if I could only get out of these shoes…"
Her fingers were shaking too badly to undo the knots that were keeping the stilettos in place so he did it for her.
"You should have kneeled him." he commented once the knot gave in and he could slid the shoe off her. He took the other one off while he was at it.
"The angle wasn't right." she chuckled even though, he guessed, it was more from exhaustion than actual amusement. "I thought about punching him but I wasn't sure how to do that properly. Also, I would rather break a shoe than a nail."
She jutted her chin almost defiantly and he couldn't help but snort. Such a Trinket thing to say…
"I will teach you how to punch." he offered. "But breaking his foot was probably the smart move anyway. Good thinking, sweetheart."
Better thinking would be him paying that Venzio guy a visit, maybe with Finnick and Chaff, just to make sure the Capitol man knew better than coming near her again. He and Effie weren't really friends but they weren't enemies either anymore and as far as escorts went, she was decent. He liked her well enough now, as annoying as she was. He would certainly not stand for assholes trying to hurt her.
She could defend herself just fine – Effie was no damsel in distress – but he would be damned if he let her get hurt on his watch.
"I can handle myself." she scorned as if reading his mind. She did that a lot… Read his mind…
"Never said you couldn't." he argued, getting on his feet and holding out his hands to help her up. "You're okay?"
She nodded. "Yes. I do apologize for making a spectacle of myself."
She ducked her head and he figured she was embarrassed because it was the first time he saw her lose that perfect composure of hers. He had glimpsed tears in her eyes before but he had never seen her cry.
"You were scared." he shrugged.
"Badly scared" she corrected him. "I am still shaking."
There were a lot of things he could have said, he mused. Now that he was sure she was in one piece, it would have been the perfect opportunity to draw a parallel to the Games and taunt her about providential justice or karma.
She looked so pitiful with her smudged make-up, though, that he couldn't quite bring himself to do it.
"Want a hug?" he heard himself offer. He blamed the liquor.
She hesitated for a second, clearly taken aback, but then she took a tentative step closer and he embraced her without another thought. She was tiny without her heels, she barely reached his chin and it made him even angrier at that guy who had thought himself allowed to grab her and terrify her so badly she would break down in tears. He gathered her close, his arms wrapped tightly around her shaking frame, she clung to him and buried her face in the crook of his neck.
Years later, he would pin the moment everything shifted on that night.
Because for the first time, he saw the human behind the escort.