Prompt: There are no words for how much I love the way you write Johanna and her dynamic with Effie. Could you write something about them in MJ p2, at the wedding, or maybe after Katniss has gone to Two?

Although this follows the movie trope of Effie being in 13, the general plot follows the book so Katniss didn't run away.

What People See

"You are not high. I am impressed."

Jo bristled at the sound of the escort's high-pitched voice and turned her head to glare at her. Effie Trinket was a blot of pink in an ocean of grey. She had almost stolen Annie's thunder – not that Johanna was surprised about that, Trinket was a selfish bitch, always had been and always would be – but to be fair Annie's thunder was starting to take its toll on Seven's victor and that was why she had escaped the party in search of fresh air. They weren't supposed to go up, she had been told multiple times and in multiple ways – from sympathizing nurses to firmer dressing down from soldiers who had no clue how suffocating it was for her to be trapped underground.

Finding paths through the rubbles hadn't been as difficult as she had feared – and maybe Thirteen should concern itself with that because if she could sneak out – hell, if Trinket could sneak out – then anyone could sneak in.

"How did you track me down?" she growled.

If Trinket annoyed her into murdering her, it wouldn't be her fault. After all, she had been declared mentally unstable, she had the shiny medical wristband to prove it. And they were alone lost in a sea of rubbles with only the full moon overhead as witness. She could kill her and get away with it. Nobody would ever be the wiser. She would watch Haymitch and the rest of them rage and look in vain for the culprit and nobody would ever know.

"I am sorry to disappoint, I wasn't." Trinket replied. "I just wanted some air. The interdiction of going to the surface is starting to become a little too much for me. All the more so after those awful days in the bomb shelter."

"Sure." she sneered. "I bet it was awful to be all safe and sound while the rest of us got cut to pieces."

She turned her head away, not willing to acknowledge the flicker of concern on the Capitol's face. Trinket had spent too many hours sitting at her bedside in the beginning. Jo had screamed at her to leave her alone as soon as she had gotten her wits back but the woman was a stubborn pig and she had come back time and time again, arguing that it was her job to look after her victors. Johanna had never been her victor, she left that to the likes of Haymitch and Finnick, who liked the Capitol woman to rub their bellies and tell them they were good boys.

Trinket's favorite thing lately seemed to be lecturing her about morphling – or any of the drugs Jo managed to get her hands on, really. Theft was a highly frowned upon offense in Thirteen, she had been warned. It never stopped her. The thought was laughable. What would they do? Shave her head and drown her in a bathtub? Fry her a little for good measure? Been there, done that.

"Do you want to talk about that?" Trinket asked in that soft voice that infuriated her. She didn't want the escort to be nice. She didn't want her to be understanding. She wanted Trinket to fight back. She wanted the feuds and the screaming and the urge to wrap her hands around her throat and squeeze…

"Fuck off." she spat.

"Mind your language." Trinket clicked her tongue. "And here I was about to offer you a cigarette…"

"Cigarette?" Jo perked up.

An amused smile played on Trinket's lips. "It was hard to come by."

Jo could bet it had been. As far as she could tell, Thirteen citizens had no black market at all. They lived like ants in an anthill, like fucking robots… Refugees now… That was another story. People didn't change the way they had lived all their lives just because they had switched District. There was a black market between the refugees, she had heard rumors about it from the few people from Seven.

"Sucked someone off for a packet, right?" she snorted. "So much like you."

Trinket glared at her, fishing the small battered box from her cleavage as well as the silver lighter she always carried around with her. "It cost me a gold ring, if you must know. Which is very expensive for a dozen of poor quality cigarettes."

She handed her one all the same and they sat on a huge piece of rubble – after the escort had fussed for ten minutes over the state of her dress – and Trinket lit both. They smoked in silence for a few minutes, the only sound in the nocturnal silence being the lighter being capped and uncapped again and again. Trinket kept playing with it with her free hand.

"Finnick is your best friend." the Capitol hummed carefully after a while. "You should be at his wedding."

"I was at his fucking wedding. Clapped and everything." she grumbled. "You've gone blind? Or is it the hairspray on your head making you dumb?"

The escort pursed her lips but didn't let the insults deter her, she calmly breathed out smoke and flicked the ashes away. "He was worried about you."

"He was worried about his crazy girlfriend." she scowled. "And Haymitch was worried about lover boy. Nobody was worried about me, stop the bullshit."

"I was worried about you." Trinket argued. "Finnick and Haymitch were worried about you too. I know I have no hope of understanding what you went through, Johanna, but, please, trust me when I say you weren't left forgotten."

"Damn right, you've got no hope of understanding." she sneered. "Haymitch made sure you were all nice and cozy here, right? Couldn't be bothered to do the same for me. Of course, I'm not his slut so…" Her bitter chuckles echoed in the night and she took an angry draft of her cigarette. "I guess he wanted to make sure he had his fuck toy nearby… Can't decide which of you is playing the other. You're his fuck toy but he's your bitch. Twisted."

"You know perfectly well it is not like that." Trinket whispered.

"Not even denying the fuck part anymore?" she snorted.

That was progress, probably. She had never understood why they kept denying something everyone knew, it was plain to see they were fucking. Every time they looked at each other, every time they fought, every time they tried to hide they were groping each other… It was disgusting. She couldn't wrap her mind around it. Haymitch of all people going for a Capitol, an escort no less… She didn't get it.

And that he made sure his escort would reach Thirteen safely when she had been left behind to die… It hurt.

"Would you like it better if I did?" Trinket challenged. "He didn't choose me over you, Johanna. He did his best for you and Peeta both. Katniss accused him of the very same thing you do but I wish you would both realize the toll this whole thing had on him. Don't blame him for the Capitol's actions. Remember who the real enemy is."

"Oh, you're quoting him now." she snickered. "Cute."

"Jo." the escort insisted with a seriousness that didn't suit her. Johanna liked it better when she kept to her stupid bubbly attitude. She didn't want to think about the woman under the mask – and there was no question there was a mask; Trinket was as fake as it got.

"Fuck you." she spat, crushing the rest of the cigarette against the stone and jumping on her feet. "And fuck off. Stay clear of me, Trinket. Stay fucking clear of me."

The warning, she figured, fell on deaf ears but she stomped away all the same, back to the dark tunnel that gave her chills and made her want to scream in terror. She clenched her jaw and gritted her teeth though, forcing herself to move forward, and fighting the urge to switch on the flashlight in her pocket just to prove herself a point. It was pitch black and she twisted her ankle three times when she heard the sound of footsteps.

She stilled.

It wasn't long before she spotted the dancing beam of a flashlight and she flattened herself in the darkness, against the wall, almost grinning in glee at the thought that a soldier would come up and find Trinket. With a little luck, they would arrest her and she would get to watch.

It wasn't a soldier though. She caught a glimpse of the man's face when he passed by her, unaware of her presence and she didn't know why she was even surprised. Of course, Trinket hadn't been up here just to smoke a cigarette. Of course, they had secret meetings far from prying eyes.

She didn't know why she followed him but she did, at a distance, making sure to be silent so he wouldn't know. She remained hidden in the dark opening of the tunnel when he stepped outside, switching off the flashlight and pocketing it before making a beeline for the rock Trinket was still sitting on and dropping next to her.

"Where did you get that?" he grumbled, stealing the cigarette from her hand.

"I have my ways." Trinket grinned, sounding all mysterious.

"Your ways better not involve you getting thrown in a cell, sweetheart." he snorted, taking a drag off the cigarette. "'Cause then I'll have to make a scene and we both know just how much Coin will like that."

"You would make a scene for me. Why, Haymitch… One would think you cared after all." the escort teased. "Since when do you smoke? You hate it."

There was a touch of concern in her voice that immediately made Johanna want to gag.

"Since I haven't touched a drink in… How long has it been?" he frowned and then shrugged. "Even your fucking cigarettes don't seem so bad compared to that."

"Yes, well… They are not cheap to come by." Trinket retorted. "Don't become addicted."

He rolled his eyes, took a last draft and handed it back. "I'll leave that to you."

Trinket brought the cigarette to her lips again, blowing the smoke out slowly. "I talked to Johanna."

"Sounds fun." Haymitch commented flatly. "I took Katniss to see Peeta."

"How did it go?" Twelve's escort immediately worried.

"How did it go with Jo?" Haymitch replied with a shrug.

"Probably as well as it did with the children." Trinket sighed. "Sometimes it feels like this will never end, Haymitch. Everything keeps piling and piling and… I am so… tired."

The Capitol crushed the bud of her cigarette and fished another one from her packet. Haymitch's hand covered hers, effectively stopping her. "Don't."

"Why not?" Trinket retorted.

"'Cause I don't like it when you taste like smoke." he grumbled.

Johanna felt like throwing up again. She called it quit right there. She started to turn around, leave them to their pathetic little talk and head back toward the hellish underground District.

"Ah, yes…" the escort laughed bitterly. "It would hurt my fuck toy utilities. What use could I be to you aside for spreading my legs and looking pretty, I wonder."

"Jo was in great spirits, right?" Haymitch mocked but his voice softened. "You believe that?"

"No." Trinket admitted. "I don't. Before, perhaps, but… No, I don't believe it anymore. It would be easier though, wouldn't it? If I was just your fuck toy and you were my bitch? Do you ever marvel at how… flat we are for the children? Even Finnick… We are so simple in their eyes… We fall into nice little boxes they can check. Escort, mentor, fuck toy, Capitol bitch, friend, lover… It's either black or white. No shades of grey."

There was a long silence and then Haymitch nudged her shoulder with his. "You're sure it's only tobacco in those? 'Cause that was quite the philosophical shit, Princess."

Trinket laughed and turned her head toward him, a small smile on her lips. "Kiss me, Haymitch. Make me forget."

Johanna hastily retreated back inside before she could see something that would definitely make her sick.

She didn't get it.

She truly didn't.