Prompt: Could you bring the victor Alina back in one of your prompts? I don't have a storyline in mind but I think she has potential and she seems to know a lot about Haymitch. Thank you !

A Friend's Advice

Haymitch had hoped some fresh air would help clear his mind but no luck.

He stood on the balcony sipping the cup of coffee he had literally begged an Avox for, the noise of the city worsening his persistent headache. He had lost count of how many days without sleep and food he had gone through. Minimum booze too, that wasn't helping with the pounding in his head…

"Hey."

He glanced over his shoulder as a familiar figure slipped between the glass doors of the Games Clinic and on the balcony, holding a plate loaded with small sandwiches and delicate pastries that probably came straight from the victory party that was no doubt happening somewhere in the Center.

"Seeder thought you would be hungry." Eight's victor offered.

"Thanks." he said and meant it, finishing his coffee in two mouthfuls to discard the cup and grab the plate. He wasn't hungry, he was starving. He spared a guilty look for the glass doors, figuring he probably ought to make sure his escort had something to eat too. She had been pacing in the corridor when he had left her, pestering the nurse on duty with questions the woman had no answer for. "This city sucks but fuck can they cook."

Alina chuckled at the old joke, pushing her long black braid over her shoulder to lean against the translucent balustrade, not seeming to care that they were so high people in the street looked like ants. Not that the force field would let them fall that far – unless Snow really wanted him dead and a malfunction just happened to be in the cards for that night.

"How are your kids?" she asked.

"Peeta's losing the leg." he shrugged.

The doctors had been fighting to save it since they had been brought back on the hovercraft a few hours earlier but they hadn't been optimistic then and the updates since hadn't been any more promising. The fact that the boy was still in surgery was good, he figured, it meant they were trying, but he didn't have much hope. He had seen the festered wound, he knew better.

"That sucks." Alina winced. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, well… He's alive. That's what matters, I guess." he sighed.

But he wasn't impatient to break the news to the kid. Maybe Effie would want to do it though. She had been better at handling the boy. She had connected with him. Maybe she could tell him. Once she stopped clinging to the notion that it would magically get better and that the leg would stay on.

For once, he hoped she was right.

"True." Eight's victor offered. "And Katniss?"

There was a spark on interest in her voice she didn't bother to hide. Everyone was interested in Katniss.

"She's still under." he told her. "They're fixing her ear. Trying to. I don't know. I had to make a scene to stop them from giving her enhancements. You know the drill…"

She averted her eyes, focusing on the surrounding buildings. "Oh, yeah."

"Yeah." he repeated bitterly. Of course, she knew the drill. She hadn't escaped the circus anymore than Finnick had. "Anyway. She'll be fine. She's tough."

"Tough is a word." Alina replied carefully. "Firecracker is another. The thing she did for the little girl? And this stunt at the end?"

"All out of love, sweetheart." he answered, a touch of warning in his voice. Enough people had been on his and Effie's backs about that, he didn't need to add fuel to the fire. They were on very treacherous ground and he was too exhausted to handle it. "The kid reminded her of her sister and the boy… Well, she's in love with the boy."

"Out of love, sure." she repeated, clearly humoring him. He stuffed his mouth with a few sandwiches, shooting her a look that probably convinced her to drop the subject. He wasn't an idiot, he knew the impact Katniss could have even if she didn't know it herself. She was a blaze and he was afraid he had just cracked a match with the star-crossed lovers story. Alina stole a pastry. "Speaking of love… How are you doing in Twelve?"

"It's Twelve." was all the answer he could think to give. The Village was a prison, his house was a cell and he stayed in locked up willingly enough. It was better than facing everyone in the District, than risking meeting parents whose kids he had failed or, perhaps worse, the woman who wore a ghost's face. Between the pin Katniss was carrying and what had happened with Rue… Maysilee had been on his mind a lot those past few weeks. "How about you? How's the husband? The kids?"

Her face softened and she almost glowed with happiness. "We are all doing good." She chatted a bit about her three sons – a subject he knew she could go over at length – and his mind drifted away a little even as he nodded in the appropriate places. The plate was empty and he placed it down on the floor before rubbing his hands together to get rid of crumbs. "So no girlfriend?"

The question took him aback and he blinked, coming back very fast to the conversation at hand.

"Thought it was going well with your husband." he said awkwardly.

She rolled her eyes. "That ship has sailed, Haymitch. I was never one for unrequited love."

"You were never in love with me." he scoffed, feeling more and more ill-at-ease by the second.

"You can be so blind…" she sighed, shaking his head. "Of course, I was in love with you. You were my first. It meant something to me."

"It meant something to me too." he winced. "Just not…"

"Just not love, yes. I figured that out when you said we should stay friends and that it was probably best if it didn't happen again." she teased, her eyes twinkling in mirth. "I thought I had been awful."

"No." he protested, rubbing the back of his neck, certain he was crimson. How had he gotten roped into that conversation? "It was… good. Once… You know… I figured out how to make it work for you too…" He had the feeling she was trying very hard not to laugh. She was biting on the inside of her cheek, a habit she had not lost since her youth. She still smell like almond too. "Alina, what's this about?"

She shrugged. "I'd just like you to be happy."

"Twelve just won the Games for the first time in twenty-four years." he snorted bitterly. "I'm pumped."

He was deflecting and they both knew it but she allowed him the escape.

"So is your escort." she remarked. "I thought she was high at first."

"Just exhausted." he chuckled. At least he thought so. "And stressed out 'cause, you know… With her everything has to be fabulous otherwise it's a disaster."

He was ready to bet Effie was dying for a smoke right about now. More than the food and the sleep. She had been so stressed those past few weeks and there hadn't been time to get any relief of any sort – barely any booze for him meant no eventual cigarette breaks for her, and no time for more… pleasurable activities that might have allowed them to blow out some steam.

And now they were waiting in the Clinic for doctors to come talk to them about their tributes' – victors' – surgeries and there was nothing but time… They could have found a broom closet. They could have found an empty room. They could have…

He stopped that train of thoughts fast because a quickie looked more and more alluring with every new scenario his sick mind invented. It would make time fly faster and it would have the added benefit of letting them unwind.

"She seems efficient." Alina pointed out.

"She's not up for grab." he warned. "Eleven and Four have been on my case for years. She's getting promoted over my dead body, we're clear?"

Not that he would ever admit that much to his escort.

"You like her." she deduced, sounding delighted by that little bit of news. "Because she sure likes you."

"Sorry, we're back in high school?" he scowled. "I don't like her. She's just good at her job, which makes my life easier. That's all."

"That's not what I heard." she teased.

"Yeah, well… You mentor once in a blue moon." he grumbled. "Maybe you're not up with the latest gossips." He shot her a mild glare. "And tell Chaff to go to hell next time he talks about me behind my back."

"It was Cashmere actually." she chuckled. "She was talking about Brutus and how he had been cheating on his wife with his former escort for years. The conversation seemed to go straight to you from there…"

He would have a nice little chat with Cashmere, he decided. He didn't hang out with Careers as a rule – and after the stunt Peeta had pulled, he wasn't sure he wanted to go near them – but aside for being the drunkard from Twelve, he was also a Quell victor and that still had its weight. Some even respected him for it.

"Don't get why." he shrugged.

"Are you sure?" Alina insisted.

"Got no wife to cheat on." he replied. "And you've met Effie, yeah? You really think I would go for that?"

His friend wasn't fooled. "Well, assuming you convinced her to take the make-up off… She's your type."

"I don't have a type." he denied.

"Long legs, great ass, not too much cleavage, slender neck…" she enumerated, counting on her fingers.

"She's a pain." he spat.

"Oh, right… A temper…" she grinned. "You used to call me sassy."

"You're sassy." he agreed. "She's…" Fiery. Impossible. Maddening. Irritating. "… barely witty."

A lie if there ever was one.

She could be witty when she wasn't playing dumb. Incisive, even. Harsh, sometimes. Difficult, always.

Alina leaned further against the balustrade and he spared another glance for the emptiness that stretched between them and the pavement. She folded her arms over her chest, a smirk on her lips. "You should see the way she looks at you when she thinks nobody is watching."

"Like she wants to strangle me?" He snorted at his own joke. "I know. She threatens to do that twice a day."

"Like I used to look at you." she countered without any heat, as if it was water under the bridge. And it probably was. "Like she's in love with you and she knows you will never love her back."

He licked his lips and averted his eyes, focusing on the white hospital corridor beyond the glass doors. "That's not how she looks at me."

"Yes, it is." she insisted. "And you know how you look at her?"

"She's just my escort, Alina." he snapped. "I don't bloody look at her like anything more than that."

"See, I would ask if the fact she's a Capitol is the problem, but we both know it's not." she mocked gently. "Your girlfriend… She's dead. She died long ago. Stop hiding behind that."

"I don't know what you're talking about." he spat. "I need to go back inside."

"You're running away." she accused.

"I ain't running away. I have kids to look out for and no time for your bullshit." he scowled. "I don't know if you've got a bet with Chaff or what…"

"I haven't talked to Chaff about this." she cut him off. "You're my friend. I care about you. I just want to help."

"That's not helping." he growled, pointing an angry finger in her direction. "She's nothing. You get that? She's nothing."

Alina didn't flinch. "You look at her like you're in love with her and you don't even know it."

"Oh, for fuck's…" he exclaimed and then tossed his arms up only to let them fall. "Fuck that. I'm not arguing with you about this. Thanks for the food."

He stormed back inside, glowering so much that nurses and doctors alike jumped out of his way.

Effie was still pacing where he had left her.

"News?" he asked. She shook her head, looking dead on her feet and ready to drop. "Go get something to eat. I'll call you if they show up."

She looked relieved by the suggestion and thanked him softly, squeezing his shoulder when she walked past him.

He watched her leave.

And he tried really had to school the look on his face into something neutral.