Prompt: May I prompt effie and chaff actually somewhat getting along for once whilst having a drunken conversation about what kind of women they're into (although let's face it, they would probably still manage to entirely disagree with each other hahah)

Bonding Time With Eleven's Victor

Effie cornered her prey while he was alone at the bar.

If Chaff was alarmed at her sudden appearance at his side, he didn't comment, not even when she slid on the stool right next to his. Then again, the party had been raging for a while now and he was obviously in his cup.

"Hello, love." he greeted her with his usual leering smile and lifted eyebrows.

No surprise though.

"Hello, Chaff." she answered cheerful as you pleased. She signaled the bartender who immediately slid her favorite cocktail in front of her. Being famous had its advantage. It was only when she had her drink firmly in hand – she wasn't taking any chances with glasses in a public place – that she finally turned to Eleven's victor. "Please, do not make this difficult. I need to know what is going on and I need to know yesterday."

He laughed his bark of a laugh, swirling his stool around with his foot so he could look out at the mass of bodies crowding around them. Sponsors, Gamemakers, escorts and victors alike.

Haymitch wasn't hard to find in the lot.

He was next to a pillar, caging a woman in by having propped his arm over her head. The woman clearly wanted to be caged in. She was clearly enjoying herself.

Effie tried not to think he would fuck her before the night was through because it was obviously heading there and…

"Jealous?" Chaff challenged.

"Hardly." she snapped. She was not jealous. She was not. Why would she be? It was just sex. Not even exceptionally good sex at that. And they had said it would not happen again. Granted they had said that quite a few times now and it had happened again and it would likely happen some more. But still. Nothing to be jealous about. That was not what this was about. At all. "She is high profile. He does not go after high profile women when he wants a tryst."

That was a fact and something she appreciated.

Because while other escorts had to fend off scandals about victors getting too close to wealthy married women or men, she simply had to make sure no tart from the more questionable part of the city would sell a scandalous story to newspapers. Money was usually enough.

"Maybe she caught his eye." Chaff shrugged.

"There are strings attached to high profile people, Chaff." she said, lowering her voice but keeping it serious. "And we do not play the game this way. He is always adamant about that."

She had offered before.

He had always told her that sleeping with people for money was opening a can of worms they would never be able to put a lid back on. He had forbidden it on pain of getting her fired – and she had the feeling that, unlike his various threats of having her fired, he had been serious about that one.

Chaff sighed and took a sip of his glass, losing some of his amused countenance. "Happens from time to time. You're still too new."

"I have been an escort for four years." she scoffed.

"Yeah. That's what I said. You're still too new." He snorted and then shook his head, lowering his voice so much she had troubles hearing him over the music. "Look, some years… The kids get under your skin more than others. Maybe he wants to try and help. He's after the money, love."

"But he always says…" she argued.

"He won't sell you off." Chaff sighed. "Doesn't mean he won't sell himself now and then." He downed the rest of his drink, the only hint that he was irritated by the conversation was the twitching of his right eye. "Makes him a decent guy, in my opinion. I'd pimp Vile-o-la any day. She ain't on board." Effie licked her lips, her mind already calculating ways in which… "Don't you fucking dare try and find some money that way." Chaff warned before she could make her excuse. "It won't work, I've seen your tributes. He just needs to do something. It's eating at him this year. Like I said, it happens." He shook his head. "What won't help is you taking that from him." His mouth pinched. "He likes you for some reason."

She swallowed back everything she wanted to say.

She wasn't some defenseless damsel in distress who needed to be protected and she had no qualm about sleeping with people for favors. She had done it before and she would probably do it again. Her body was a tool. Her beauty was a weapon. Only a fool would sit on it and not use it and Effie Trinket was anything but a fool.

"Cheer up, love." Eleven's victor nudged her, briefly turning back toward the bar to gesture the bartender he wanted his glass filled again. "She ain't that bad looking. Won't be such a hardship."

He raised his newly filled glass in a toast and she clicked her own untouched drink to it in reflex because it would have been rude not to, but her blue eyes remained on Haymitch and the wealthy woman who was now fingering the lapels of his jacket – a jacket she had purchased and chosen for him.

The sponsor wasn't bad looking. She was in her mid-twenties, barely older than Effie herself, barely younger than Haymitch really, and she was wearing the most exquisite creator dress. And yet…

"It is all fake." she blurted out, more annoyed than she wanted to be at the thought of that woman taking off a jacket she had picked. "She is wearing a girdle. Trust me, once it comes off, nothing will be flat or firm anymore."

Chaff glanced at her with obvious amusement and then studied the sponsor Haymitch was so busy seducing with a new eye. "How can you tell?"

"I can tell, trust me." she huffed.

Lips stretched in a smirk, Eleven's victor's eyes drifted to her own midsection. "Are you wearing a…"

"Do not dare insult me by finishing this question." she warned. "My assets are all natural."

He shot her a leering look and she was fairly certain he was looking down her dress but she couldn't bring herself to care. Not when Haymitch had taken a step that brought him even more in that sponsor's space.

She wanted to stride there and get in between them.

The urge was so powerful she almost choked on it.

"Good to know." Chaff snorted.

She forced her eyes to drift away from Haymitch. What he did was none of her business, naturally, and she needed to remember that. As long as he wasn't involved in some nefarious bet or scheme like she had suspected…

Perhaps she would do well to find herself some sort of company for the night too.

"What about the one in the blue dress?" Chaff asked, not quite discreetly nodding at a woman with a puffy purple wig standing not too far away.

She vaguely placed her as a Gamemaker assistant.

"Big mouth." she dismissed. "I dislike botox filled lips. They always feel clumsy."

Chaff did a double take at that and then burst out in guffaws. "I meant for me but good for you, Trinket." She rolled her eyes, taking a couple of sips of her cocktail while his laughter ran his natural course. Once he was done mocking her, he let out a small sigh. "I'm gonna go for it. Don't mind clumsy lips around my cock as long as she can suck…"

She made a face and let out a disgusted groan. "Language. And, truly, I did not want that visual."

Eleven's victor leaned toward her with a smirk, talking directly into her ear. "Maybe you do, love… Could give you a grand old time, I promise…"

The fact that she was tempted for one very short second to take him up on his offer just because Haymitch was now kissing that woman like there would be no tomorrow was probably telling of the fact she needed to stop drinking.

She pushed on his chest, forcing him out of her space. "I think not. I saw a woman with rainbow hair earlier who quite caught my eye, if you must know."

"Which one?" Chaff asked, sounding fascinated.

And probably fantasizing about it like the pervert he was.

"By the door. Behind me." she hummed, surveying her manicure.

Chaff wasn't really discreet when he stared over her shoulder but he eventually let an approving snort. "Not bad. Tits are too small though."

She sighed. "You are a pig."

"A pig who's gonna bag that purple wig chick and think about you with that other one all night." he replied, downing the rest of his drink before hopping off the stool. "Need a wing man?"

"Hell, no." she refused, wrinkling her nose.

He licked his lips in a very vulgar way, wriggling his eyebrows. "Need a third one?"

"I will toss my drink at your face." she warned.

"That's Haymitch's kind of foreplay. I like it less rough." he retorted with a wink, disappearing in the crowd.

She spotted him next to the woman a second later.

She rolled her eyes, shot a last glance at Haymitch who had his tongue down the sponsor's throat and headed off to find a warm body for the night.

So! Guess what? FF doesn't send me the reviews anymore... I have no clue if alerts are still going out? I'm also publishing this over at AO3 so if you want to make the switch... I can also answer comments there so... Yeah.

I hope you enjoy this little story! Please let me know!