Prompt : Could you give us more of Viola, Effie and Haymitch and work a little bit on their past? That would be fantastic! I love this triangle. Thanks!

Changing Escorts

"Just so we're clear." Haymitch spat the words out through gritted teeth, audible enough despite the loud music of the party raging around them. "If you were a man I would have punched you so long ago."

His escort looked him up and down with that particular spark of loathing in her eyes only Viola Summercket could muster for him. He hated her, oh how he hated her… He didn't think he had hated even the old bat who had accompanied him through the Quell as much as he hated her.

"I believe you." she snickered, bringing her blood red drink to her plump yellow colored lips. "And I can safely say the end of this season can't come soon enough. I can't wait to be rid of you."

"Right back at you, sweetheart." he sneered, regretting not being drunk yet. "You're the worst I had and that's saying something."

Viola had been with him only for a year and he was glad that was done with. Good luck to Chaff with her. She was mean with the kids, she treated him like shit, and she had absolutely no ethics – not that he was surprised by that, he had seen more than one pretty young thing desperate to do anything to get a job in the Games business but her numerous attempts at seducing him the previous year only to eventually move on to a bigger fish had left him disgusted. She had screwed Head Gamemaker Torello to be appointed as an escort and she had screwed him again to get promoted to a better District. He didn't see the appeal.

"Oh, because you think you are a catch, Haymitch?" she laughed, throwing her head back, attracting the attention of more than a few people in the room. "How cute. No one wants to work with you or your pathetic little District. Do you know why? Because you might have won the Quell but it was clearly a fluke. You are not the stuff of victors, Haymitch. You are a sad little man with a sad little life in a sad little District that won't see any more winner any time soon. You…"

"I think that is quite enough." a woman cut in coldly.

Haymitch turned his attention to her. Golden sequin dress, short pink wig cut in a bob with matching eyelashes, gold painted lips and towering high heels. Classic Capitol. Her eyes were a striking blue and he got lost in there for a second.

"Want an autograph, sweetheart?" he snorted, pegging her for the usual fan. "I might even buy you a drink if you ask nicely."

Her eyes were pretty and the dress wasn't ridiculous enough to hide that she was attractive. It had been a while since he had last picked a woman up at a party – besides, it would have the pleasant bonus of riling Viola up. He had rejected her so many times she had started saying around that he wasn't interested in women at all – of course, his usual answer to that was that he simply wasn't into tramps.

The newcomer glanced at him, her lips twitching in an amused smile, but didn't have time to answer.

"What are you doing here, Euphemia?" Viola glared at her, looking at the woman with the same loathing she usually reserved for him. "This is a Games staff only party. Oh, did you manage to rope Seneca into bringing you? Are you two back at it, then?"

Haymitch rolled his eyes and turned back to his drink. Any friend of Viola, he didn't want to touch with a ten-foot pole.

"Actually, Head Gamemaker Torello was kind enough to extend an invitation." the woman hissed. "After all, I will soon be staff too."

Haymitch's eyes snapped up at that, studying her more attentively, trying to figure out where she would fit. He hoped she was a stylist. There were only two escort positions left to fill for the following year, Twelve and Five – and wasn't Viola livid that Torello had assigned her to Eleven instead of Five – and he didn't want another Viola. One year of torture was enough.

"What can you mean by that?" Viola retorted, obviously out of the loop on that one.

The woman smiled a perfectly faked smile. "Why, dear, don't you know? We will soon be working together again. I will be an escort next season."

Haymitch winced, searching the crowd for Chaff, intending to make his escape and beg fate – or rather Torello – to get him anyone but that one.

"Not for Five, surely." Viola mocked but there was a touch of uncertainty in there. "They are not that desperate."

The woman never parted with her polite smile but her eyes hardened and if looks could kill… Maybe they weren't friends after all, Haymitch mused – or maybe they were, it was often hard to tell the difference in this city.

"For Twelve." the woman corrected and Haymitch let out a groan that went ignored. "It appears you were not a good fit so they thought I would do better. I was their first choice last year, after all."

"Is that what they told you?" Viola taunted with a patronizing smile. "You do realize that it is what they tell everyone to get them to sign, don't you? Who in their right mind would accept the position as Twelve's escort otherwise?"

"Forgot how eager you were to get it, already?" Haymitch mumbled into his glass. "You pushed your fucking breasts in my face. Forgot about that? Still have nightmares…"

Viola shot him a look of pure venom but it soon turned to glee. "Well, Euphemia, why don't you meet your future colleague. I wish you all the luck, you will need it. He is probably drunk right now but it is difficult to tell because he is otherwise not the brightest and he hasn't seen the inside of a shower stall since the beginning of the Games, of course, but you should get used to that. That is what you get while working with Twelve. Uneducated ruffians who wallow in their filth and are barely capable of coherent thought. The tributes are awful little devils and Haymitch is a useless drunk who won't lift a finger to help you. If you…"

"I will thank you not to disparage my victor, my tributes or my District in front of me." the woman cut her off, a sharp edge to her voice. "I am confident with proper guidance and support, Twelve will be glorious. An incompetent escort impacts greatly on a District team."

Haymitch had sat though Viola's vicious rant without reacting, too used by now to being insulted in that way every day of the week, but he perked up at the woman's words, annoyed to find her puzzling. 'My victor, my tributes, my District'… Only escorts from Career Districts usually used the possessive pronoun in that manner, escorts who had something to be proud of. There certainly was nothing to be proud of in escorting Twelve.

"Incompetent." Viola hissed. "You think you can do better then?"

"Oh, I think I can do more than simply better, Viola, I think I can make us win." she retorted.

Haymitch shook his head at her stupidity and finished his drink. "When you're done comparing sizes, maybe you can tell me your name since you're going to make us win or whatever bullshit."

Viola laughed as if it was the biggest joke he ever made – and, to be honest, it probably was because Twelve would never win in a million years. "Haymitch, meet Euphemia Trinket. She loves to pounce on my leftovers so I shouldn't be surprised she jumped at the chance to replace me. That's how she got almost all her jobs – once I quitted them."

"Patently untrue." Trinket countered. "How many contracts did you get just because I refused them? Be fair, Viola." She turned to him and outstretched a hand with impressive golden fake nails that could probably have gorged his own escort's eyes out. "I am being very rude and I think an apology is in order. Effie Trinket, I am very pleased to meet you."

He stared at the hand but made no move to shake it. "Is it Euphemia or Effie then?"

Her smile, that he thought to be genuine, strained a little. "I prefer Effie."

He was tempted to call her Euphemia out of spite but it was a mouthful and he shrugged. "Fine, Trinket. Here are the rules. You stay out of my way, I'll stay out of yours."

She blinked, her hand still hovering in the air between them and Viola started laughing in earnest, patting her friend's arm in mocked comfort. "Did you think he would welcome you with open arms like the savior you fancy yourself to be? Oh, Euphemia dear… Haymitch doesn't care for anything but his bottle of whiskey."

"Yeah." he snorted. "And it's time to go look for more." He left them there without a backward glance. He found Chaff after a short search, sprawled on his back on one of the couches lining the walls, nursing a bottle of vodka. "No more good stuff?" he asked, nodding at the bottle and sitting down next to his friend's head, watching the party unfold with the same morbid fascination as always. Those people partied like there was no tomorrow and had no care in the world. He often wondered how it felt to be so empty-headed.

"Nope." Chaff sighed, bringing the bottle to his lips. Some Vodka trickled down the corner of his lips but his friend didn't seem to care. Eleven's tributes had died brutally that year and Chaff was taking it hard. "Hey, I heard the two new escorts are around somewhere…"

"Yeah, I met mine." he said.

"And?" his friend prompted. "Better or worse than Summercket?"

"Can't really be worse than Summercket." he replied.

"Yeah." Chaff agreed with a wince. "I hate you for that, by the way. She's going to be hard to shake off."

"I won our bet, then." Haymitch smirked.

"Who says you're going to get the newbie to quit?" Eleven's victor challenged, his words a little slurred. Haymitch resisted the urge to ask him to share his bottle. He figured Chaff would need help getting back to his floor and Seeder was getting too old for those stunts. "Maybe she's stubborn too. What's she like?"

He took the time to ponder the question. Somehow, he didn't think Chaff wanted to know she had very pretty eyes.

"Probably slept with Torello for the job too." he finally shrugged. "She's one of Viola's friends, I think." She had defended him and Twelve though. "This one doesn't seem the sort to insult me all day long. Small mercies."

"Lucky you." Chaff scowled. "You're getting the hot one and I'm getting the witch."

"How do you know she's hot?" he frowned. "Never said she's hot."

His friend rolled his eyes. "You've got your I'm going to shag her if it's the last thing I do face on, buddy. She's hot alright. Is she feisty?"

He was careful to sound detached when he answered. "Might be."

Chaff's laugh barked out. "Oh, you're screwed. You can't resist feisty."

"I can resist feisty just fine." he grumbled. "Besides, she sounds like a pain in the ass."

"Even better." Eleven's mentor teased. "Completely your type then."

"She's a clown. I'm not attracted to clowns." he sneered.

"In the dark, you can't say if they're clown or human beings." Chaff declared, toasting him with the bottle of vodka. "Maybe you'll like this one. I hear some victors like their escorts."

"Yeah, who?" he scoffed. "Cause they're all shallow bitches to me."

"Depends on the girl." his friend hummed. "Some aren't so bad but those never last long. Brutus' Valeria is nice. Livia from Six? Nice too. We just have a gift for attracting the bitchy ones in Eleven and Twelve."

"Bitchy's not the problem. It's nasty I don't like." he said and then shrugged. "We'll see, won't we? But mark my words, I don't think Effie Trinket will last long."

"Famous last words, buddy." Chaff chuckled. "Famous last words…"