Prompt : hahahha oh my god i was reading the ask from earlier and i think a prompt based on the line "well who hasnt slept with effie trinket?" would be hilarious

Business & Pleasure

As far as she was concerned the victory party of the Seventy-Third Hunger Games was the worst party ever.

Not only was the feather theme impractical but Effie could have done without all the rumors and speculations flying around. She was perched on Four's victor armrest in the corner the usual crowd of victors she associated with had chosen for themselves and she was trying really hard not to let everything get to her. The fact that the room was stifling hot and that the feathers of her dress kept sticking to her skin wasn't helping matters.

She stole the olive from Finnick's martini and looked around morosely.

"Don't look so gloomy, love." Chaff mocked.

"Leave her alone." Finnick frowned. "She's got enough on her plate tonight."

"Why? 'Cause everyone's speculating on who she's actually banging?" Eleven's victor snorted. "Crane. Haymitch. That sponsor guy. The cute chick who reads the news... You're certainly hungry for it, love. You know I'm always..."

"Cut it off." Haymitch growled from his chair.

He knocked down his glass of whiskey in one annoyed move and spared a glare for her as if any of this was her fault. It wasn't. The rumors had started by themselves, greatly helped she was sure by a certain other escort that shall not be named, and the whole thing had swollen and swollen until she had completely lost control of everything. Denial did nothing to appease the gossip hungry crowd. Seneca had denied too, naturally. As had done the news host. Haymitch hadn't bothered, rumors about them popped up and then died down, talking about it usually only served to fuel the fire. As for the sponsor... Well... He wasn't denying anything, he was gloating about it everywhere he went, spreading personal details that only a handful of people knew to be exact. Haymitch amongst them. It wasn't helping Twelve's victor's mood or her own.

They weren't exclusive, she kept reminding herself when his accusing eyes fell on her. They weren't exclusive and she had thought the girl had a chance. They weren't exclusive and she had thought if only they had enough money to send a bottle of water...

"I don't get why everyone's acting surprised she's a slut." Johanna cackled with her usual cruelty. "It's not like it's a huge surprise, is it?"

"Language." Effie clicked her tongue, hiding the hurt she couldn't quite suppress behind a mask of polite interest. "And I am right here. Couldn't you at least have the decency to gossip about me when I am not here to hear like everyone else in this room is doing?"

"Why are you here though?" Seven's victor sneered. "Why aren't you annoying your friends with your pathetic love life instead of spoiling our fun?"

She was there because her other friends would nod at her and promise they believed her when she denied everything only to spread more lies the second she would turn her back. She was there because she didn't think she had it in her to smile and look bubbly that night. The media storm would blow over in a few days. It always did, it was the price for fame, but it had been four hellish days already and she was at the end of her tether. Not showing up at the party was unthinkable, it would have made her look like the guilty one, but that didn't mean she wanted to get out there and start the very same dance again.

"And looking sour." Chaff added joyfully. He was well in his cup already, had been even before she and Haymitch had arrived. "You know, the pretty face's all you got going for you, love. You don't look pretty when you're sour and..."

"Are you going to shut up or do I have to make you?" Finnick cut in with an icy voice.

"It's alright, I don't mind." she lied.

"I do." Four's victor replied.

She placed a hand on his shoulder and gave a gentle squeeze to show her gratefulness for his support.

Johanna's dry laughter was loud and sudden. "You're shagging her too, Finnick? Is there a guy left you haven't spread your legs for beside Chaff, Trinket?"

Too loud.

Heads turned, people stared, whispers were exchanged...

She took her hand away from Finnick's shoulder, grateful for the make-up that would hide her sudden flush. She stood up as slowly and naturally as she could and smoothed her feathers dress.

"Effie..." Four's victor tried, glaring at his friends for their lack of tact.

"Everything is fine." she promised, forcing a grin on her lips. "I just feel like socializing."

She needed to get away from Finnick before new rumors started flying even though it might have already been too late for that. She wandered closer to the bar, thinking liquor would maybe help her relax, noticing in the corner of her eyes that Seneca was doing a great job at avoiding being in the same part of the room as her.

She hadn't gone very far from the victors when a familiar voice rose above others, louder even than Johanna's, clearly delighted by the whole ordeal.

"Well, who hasn't slept with Effie Trinket?" Viola asked her gaggle of friends. They all started giggling and laughing, attracting even more attention.

Effie stopped in her tracks and turned around, knowing she couldn't let this pass to the risk of causing a scene. Whispers behind her back were something, disrespecting her publicly in a room full of people was entirely something else.

"Coming from the tart who had to sleep with the Head Gamemaker to get appointed as an escort, that's rich." a familiar voice replied before she could say anything. That part of the room went deadly silent, everyone was not so covertly watching the unexpected face off between Haymitch Abernathy and his former escort.

People often forgot Viola had first began in Twelve even if it had only lasted a single year. She had been stuck in Eleven for so long it sometimes felt as if she had never been anywhere else.

"Now, now, Haymitch." Viola chuckled, her green painted lips stretched in a poisonous grin. "Just because you finally found a woman willing to sleep with you..."

"There are plenty of women willing to sleep with me, sweetheart." he scoffed. "You were one of them if I recall right. Desperate to wrap your legs around me to get a job as an escort. Didn't take it so gracefully when I said no, did you?" Haymitch looked her up and down with a sneer of disgust. "Then you went over my head and slept with Torello. You always were more to his taste anyway. He liked them stupid, desperate, cheap and without class."

For a second Viola looked shocked that he would put something like that out there and then she laughed as if it was all a good joke. "Do you truly expect people to believe that? I wouldn't touch you with a ten-foot pole, Haymitch. Unlike Effie Trinket, I have standards."

"Don't need people to believe it." he shrugged. "Just planting the seeds. Let's see how you enjoy being at the center of attention. That's why you hate Effie so much, right? 'Cause whatever you do people just love her better."

He left Viola gaping at his retort and headed for the bar, stopping in his tracks when he found Effie standing there with her arms folded over her chest in a stern fashion.

"What did I say about causing scenes?" she chided him.

He rolled his eyes. "She had it coming."

She could hear the whispering starting anew around them, her name being mixed with Viola's and Haymitch's.

"I don't need a knight in shining armor to defend me. I can handle myself." she insisted. "Even if it was surprisingly gentlemanly of you."

"Like I said. She had it coming." he grumbled. "Don't read too much into it, Trinket."

"I wouldn't dream of it." she grinned, unfolding her arms and outstretching her hand. "I want to dance."

"And?" he scoffed, lifting his eyebrows.

"And after those rumors any man in here will grope me and act as if I'm free for the taking if I ask one of them to dance." she retorted. "You don't want that."

"You're awfully confident about what I want or not." he pointed out. His eyes darted around though, he saw the way some of the men were looking at her and he shrugged, grabbed her hand and led her to the dance floor. She wrapped her arms around his neck and was happy to sway to the music for a while, enjoying the knowledge that she was safe in his arms. Haymitch was mulling something over though. "You shouldn't let it get to you." he mumbled after a few seconds. "Whatever those people think, they're idiots. And Jo and Chaff are only trying to rile you up."

She rather thought Johanna and Chaff were trying to hurt her for the very good reason that they hated her and didn't understand why Haymitch so often took her defense.

"I like sex." she declared. "I don't see why I should make any apologies for it. If that makes me a slut then so be it but there are far worse people in this city and they are all gossiping around me when they are all doing the same thing." Sex was a hobby in the Capitol, it was only when affairs were turned into a weapon that it became a problem. She averted her eyes. "For the record, I didn't sleep with Seneca or with the girl from the news. You... I have only been sleeping with you for a while now."

His fingers curled possessively around her hip. "What about the sponsor?"

"That doesn't count." she whispered. "I thought..."

"Yeah." he cut her off. "I know what you thought. That was stupid."

"I needed to do something." she countered. "We needed money. I..."

"You're not a slut, sweetheart, but sleeping with people for money, that makes you a prostitute." he interrupted.

"I'm an escort, Haymitch. What do you think escorts do?" she retorted. "How do you think other teams..."

"Everyone doesn't do it that way but that's not the point anyway." he growled. "We're not other teams. If I had thought we had a real shot... I would do that myself if I thought we had a shot, sweetheart. I wouldn't throw you to the wolves."

"Oh, and that's better how exactly?" she hissed. "You or me, it doesn't make a difference. We are in this together. We are a team. I don't care what those people think about me tonight, Haymitch, they will change their mind in a day or two, they will move on to more juicy news… I care about what you think and maybe I am just a pretty face and…"

"You're not just a pretty face." he grumbled. "You're smart. If people can't see that, their bad."

She pursed her lips and tightened her hold on his neck, not even caring about what people would think. It wasn't uncommon for a victor to dance with his escort and it wasn't uncommon for them to be seen dancing together. It didn't happen often but it certainly wasn't a first. People would get over it when they got over the scandal surrounding her.

"The sponsor doesn't count." she insisted. "It was just business."

"I don't want you doing that kind of business." he snapped. "And I don't want you sleeping with other guys either. Or women. Business or pleasure."

She frowned not quite believing what she was hearing. "Are you saying you want us to be exclusive?"

He puffed and looked away, so obviously uncomfortable it was almost funny.

"I'm saying you don't sleep with other people and I don't sleep with other women and we don't put labels on anything, alright?" he muttered awkwardly.

There was a lot she could answer to that but most of the things that came to mind would have sent him running so she simply smiled and kept her voice even. "Alright."

She changed her mind.

The victory party for the seventy-third Hunger Games was the best victory party she had ever been to.