Chapter 5

"I've found the perfect girlfriend for you!"

"Oh…"

"She's, she's ..." Haymitch's brain cells began to spin. Kind? No, not true. Friendly? This would also be an overstatement. Amusing? Certainly not. Finally, he proudly found a word which described the girl perfectly. "She's tall."

"Tall?" Peeta asked slightly irritated on the other side of the line. "How tall?"

"Uh, pretty," Haymitch muttered. "That isn't a problem, right?"

"No, but…"

"And she has a powerful punch."

"What?"

"I kissed her and then, well, she hit me."

"Uncle Haymitch." Peeta sighed. "I can't date a girl who you've already kissed."

"It was a tragic accident, Peeta," Haymitch drawled. "I swear; she didn't want it."

"Actually, I wanted to go..." Peeta started.

"Come on, you have to help me out here. Trinket wants to hook her up with her nephew: we can't let that happen," Haymitch growled into the phone, trying his best to make his rough voice sound as sweet as honey.

Peeta Mellark rolled his eyes in distant Kingsport, wondering why his uncle and his former fiancée couldn't behave like normal adults. "Ok, I'll come on Friday, after my lectures," he said good-naturedly.

Completely satisfied with the conversation's result, Haymitch turned off his phone and threw it into the corner of his old couch, before dropping himself on it. He had completely forgotten about the sweet freckles on her nose; but that was something his nephew should discover for himself.

…

Katniss glanced from bottle to bottle in the small grocery store, undecided on which one Haymitch would like best. Finally, she grabbed a bottle of rum, looked at it critically, and asked herself what she was doing.

Buying a bottle of high percentage was probably the dumbest thing she could do considering who she was planning to give it to. With a sigh, she reasoned that he wouldn't stop drinking just because she didn't buy the promised alcohol. Therefore she squared her shoulders and walked over to the old saleswoman at the cash register. The sales assistant peered at her over the rim of her dirty glasses, demanding to see her driver's licence before handing over the bottle.

As Katniss left the shop, the rum carefully wrapped in a brown paper bag, she literally ran into the open arms of Miss Trinket. "Katniss, darling, where have you been? We were looking for you everywhere! Gale was heartbroken not to be able to bring you home!"

"I, I..." Katniss stammered, wishing she was as eloquent as Haymitch, while her brain feverishly sought for an excuse.

"Yes, child?" Effie asked, blinking her long fake eyelashes.

"I had to go home, because my mother needed me..." Katniss answered lamely, holding the paper bag tight to her breast as Effie breathed a sigh of relief.

"Fine, my dear, I thought that perhaps you left because you didn't like Gale."

"I..."

"Wonderful, wonderful; then I'll buy you two lovebirds movie tickets for next weekend."

With these words, she gave Katniss a tender kiss on her cold cheek, careful not to smudge her lipstick, and went into the small store while Katniss did her best not to scream with frustration.

…

Her eyes wandered over the filthy porcelain further to the countless used sticky glasses which stood on the kitchen board, surrounded by a patchwork of empty bottles.

Any size, any color, any style.

Her eyes moved on to the filthy stove, sure that it hadn't been in use for months and that the homeowner probably lived entirely on the microwaved contents of cans. This would explain the countless used spoons and soup plates scattered on the side.

It was a mystery to her, how someone could run down such a beautiful, new house. Katniss didn't know much about architecture, but her reason told her that every plank, every beam, was of high quality, unlike the simple house she lived in, where everything looked like it had been stuck together with spit.

"Better, sweetheart?" came from the doorframe and Katniss looked up.

"Better."

Haymitch had greeted her eagerly, taking the paper bag out of her hands and letting the girl in. With red cheeks, she had pointed out that he had neglected to put on a shirt. Immediately, he followed her unspoken request and disappeared to the top floor, putting on something suitable.

"What did you bring me?" Haymitch asked as he strolled to the kitchen table where Katniss was sitting.

"Rum."

Haymitch's eyebrows met his hairline in approval as he looked from the bottle to Katniss. "Very good choice," he said as he took two water glasses out of the cupboard and put them on the table, filling both generously with the alcohol while Katniss tried to ignore the dirty rim of the glasses.

Haymitch lifted the glass to his lips, ready to enjoy each exquisite drop. The first sip ran down his dry throat soothingly; a second later he spat the liquid out in an arc.

"Holy shit!" he yelled, slamming the glass onto the wooden table. "What's this?"

"Water," Katniss said, without blinking an eye.

He stared at her in disbelief. "Water?"

She shrugged. "A real scout would never support an alcohol addiction."

Snorting in disbelief, he reached with both hands for the edge of the kitchen table, seeking support. His clear eyes flashed through the long strands of his hair and he began to laugh loudly. His deep laugh filled the sunny room and Katniss had to grin involuntarily, relieved he wasn't angry.

"You got me good, sweetheart," he smirked. "I should never have trusted you."

Katniss shrugged. "Still waters run deep."

"Seems like." He laughed again, before reaching for a bottle of whiskey on a nearby shelf.

"Why do you let this house go to ruin?"

Haymitch took a long sip of whiskey to clear the unpleasant taste in his mouth – after all he wasn't a fish – before he answered. "Does it look that bad?"

Katniss's eyebrows shot up in amazement. "Yes!"

Wiping his lips with the back of his hand, his eyes wandered over the countertop stacked with countless dirty plates, pans, and glasses, before moving to the stove. Not much better, he decided, running a hand over his neck. "Well," he shrugged. "I guess I'm not a homemaker."

"Have you ever thought of hiring a cleaning lady?"

"A cleaning lady?" he echoed, raising an eyebrow slightly as if he were considering this option for the first time. Finally his keen eyes found hers. "How much do you want?"

Totally caught by surprise, she nearly fell off her chair as she lifted her palms up in defence. "Oh no!"

"Why not?" he asked casually, the bottle meeting his dry lips. "I'll pay you twice what you earn now."

Katniss's chin dropped as she stared at him in disbelief. "12 dollars an hour?"

He shook his head. "You work for a lousy 6 dollars an hour. How do you survive?"

Barely, she thought. She was forced to hunt rabbits and turkeys in the forest and sell them in the next county town for a meagre sum, but she decided to keep this little secret to herself.

"12 dollars?" she repeated. "Just for cleaning some glasses and porcelain?"

"You're right, sweetheart, I don't like crooked sums either. I'll round it up to 20." Haymitch looked at her questioningly across the table, but Katniss didn't need to think twice about his offer.

"Done!"