Prompt: Could you please write something for HADS where Haymitch for once really hurts Effie while mocking her fashion and calling her a clown? Maybe because she really loved a certain dress and he realizes that he took things too for? Could this work ?

A Forgiven Idiot

Haymitch was in a foul mood.

He strode down the train's corridor, still fuming from his latest conversation with Katniss. The girl wouldn't listen, she wouldn't learn and he was reaching the end of his tether with her. This Tour was going from bad to potentially disastrous. He felt as if they were all headed toward certain death and her stubbornness was…

He scoffed and fished his flask from his inner pocket, taking a sip that did nothing to calm him down.

He had hoped to vent to Effie – because she would either manage to convince him it wasn't that bad or argue with him until his anger was spent – but he knew it wouldn't happen as soon as he walked closer to her compartment. He could hear her high-pitched giggles from the end of the corridor as well as Portia's joyful laugh.

He still headed in there, curious to see what had the two Capitol women in rapture.

The door was open so he just leaned against the doorframe and watched, unnoticed, as they both gushed over the dress Effie was wearing. Portia was soothing the fabric as Effie twisted left and right to get a better view of her back.

"Do you really think I should wear it tomorrow?" Effie asked with obvious apprehension. "I do not know…"

"You should absolutely wear it." Portia cut her off. "It is lovely, Effie."

Lovely was a big word for it. It was pink and puffy, had too much frills and didn't show enough cleavage to make up for those flaws. It was fashionable, he figured, even though he had no clue about what fashion was about those days aside for volume – on that he had been lectured at length by the two stylists and his escort.

"Do you really think so?" Effie insisted. "Do not spare my feelings."

"It's ugly." Haymitch sneered, tired of being ignored. It was just like her to not even notice his presence because of a brand new dress. "You look like a clam. That's not one of yours, yeah?" He directed that question at Portia, his sneer deepening. "Yours usually look better." He had actually been happy about Effie starting to wear Portia's designs, her outfits were less outlandish than what she usually wore, she looked… not natural because that would have been a crime in that world but… She looked a little less like a parrot and he liked that, the lines of Portia's outfits were simpler, like Cinna's. Effie looked good in their work. This one… This one was awful. "You look even worse than usual."

His escort grew very pale and then turned crimson.

He frowned because that wasn't the reaction he had been expecting. He mocked her fashion sense every five minutes and usually got a "ruffian" for his troublse or another clever remark that launched a banter session that could keep them busy for a whole day.

She never…

"Oh, Effie!" Portia lamented. "That is not true at all!"

Effie lowered her eyes but not quickly enough that he didn't see how shiny they had become. He felt bad. He felt bad and he hated feeling bad because who cared about her feelings? – right?

"Come on…" he winced. "You know it's ugly… You were just saying it…"

Portia glared at him so hard he wouldn't have been surprised if he had just self-combust.

"Yes, yes…" Effie said, clearing her throat. "You are right. Of course."

"No, he is not." the stylist objected. "Haymitch knows nothing about fashion and he is just trying to rile you up. Aren't you, Haymitch?"

Her tone suggested there was only one possible answer.

Portia could be a very scary woman so he opened his mouth to agree but didn't have to utter a word.

"Haymitch knows what fits me and what does not." Effie argued. "It is alright, Portia. It was nice of you and very foolish of me. I will go change. Excuse me."

She fled to the bathroom.

And once the door was closed, Haymitch was alone faced with a very angry-looking stylist.

Portia planted her hands on her hips and narrowed her eyes at him. "What did you do that for, pray tell?"

"I…" he frowned.

"I hope you had your fun hurting her feelings like that." she hissed.

He rolled his eyes, annoyed with her judgmental attitude.

"Look, we've known each other for close to thirteen years and I've spent all of them hurting her feelings." he snorted. "I think she'll live."

"It took her months to actually gather the nerves to show me one of her designs." Portia retorted, keeping her voice low enough that it wouldn't carry to the bathroom. "She doesn't believe she has any talent and now…" The stylist shook her head. "It is something she enjoys and her mother… You should have known better than make fun of that. She is your friend, isn't she?"

He was lost.

"The fuck you're talking about?" he asked, absolutely confused.

"I am talking about her fashion designs and the fact nobody ever believed she could do something with them." Portia sighed. "I am talking about how I spent months trying to convince her to put together one of her sketches and I am talking about how, in two seconds flat, you destroyed everything with your stupidity." She jutted an accusing finger in his chest as she walked past him and out of the room. "Fix this."

Portia, he decided, was crazy.

He nudged the door shut with his foot so nobody would intrude again.

He was still angry about Katniss and now he was unsettled about this whole scene. It left a bad feeling in his mouth.

He tried the handle to the bathroom and it turned easily under his palm. Effie glanced at him over her shoulder. She was wearing lacy blue panties and she was struggling to tie up her corset. She wordlessly turned around and presented him her back.

He had lost count of how many times he had done that over the years. Tie it… Untie it…

He laced it up slowly, if only to delay the upcoming conversation.

"Look…" he hesitated.

"It is perfectly alright." she interrupted him cheerfully. "Do not worry yourself about this. It so happens that you were right and…"

"I know shit about fashion." he grumbled. "Portia does. If she says it's good…"

He let his sentence trail of.

"Portia is my friend." she replied. "Her heart is in the right place but I cannot trust her judgment."

"I'm your friend too." he pointed out.

"Ah, but you are always brutally honest." she chuckled.

He knotted the corset and pressed a kiss at the base of her nape. He wasn't stupid enough to buy her cheery attitude. He could hear the pain underneath.

He hadn't meant to hurt her that badly. Taunting and mocking were fine but… It had been a long time since he had purposefully tried to really hurt her.

"I was just annoyed." he admitted. "You weren't paying attention to me."

She snorted and grabbed the blue dress she had been wearing that morning. The pink one laid discarded next to the shower stall.

"What happened now?" she asked. "What did Katniss do?"

"How do you know it's got anything to do with Katniss?" he challenged.

"She has a gift to aggravate people." Effie dismissed. "I am paying attention now. Tell me."

But he found he didn't want her attention now. He wanted the happy spark that had been shining in her eyes earlier and not… He waited until she had zipped her dress up to cup her cheek, trying not to mind the coat of powder under his palm.

"It wasn't that bad, the dress." He made a face. "I was just being an ass."

She lifted a perfectly shaped eyebrow. "Did you like it?"

"No." he scowled. "But I don't like half the shit you wear. Start designing lingerie and I can give you an educated opinion."

Her lips twitched with amusement and she coiled her fingers around his wrist, leaning against his hand a little.

"You are an idiot." she declared.

"Sure." he smirked. "But I'm a forgiven idiot, yeah?"

Not that it mattered, he forced himself to remember, he didn't need her approval.

"Aren't you always?" she sighed with more fondness than irritation.