Haymitch and Effie have been all over the city, talking, charming, flirting, cajoling, and even threatening, twice (seeing Effie pull out a tiny, pearlescent switchblade with an ivory handle had brought up a lot of complicated feelings). They got the money for the medicine and ran back to the Training Center and put in the order with the Gamemakers. They received confirmation that it was scheduled for during the anthem and ran to the Viewing Room.
The live feed switched from the Careers on the ground to Katniss in the tree. He had been afraid the Careers would hear the beeping and renew their efforts. That was a trick Mags had taught him, when he mentored for the second time.
"Oh, Haymitch," Katniss whispers, applying the burn medicine, "Thank you."
All the victors clapped and Effie did a funny little cheer. He put his arm around her and smiled. He hadn't been able to use Mags's trick in a long time. Lack of interest in tributes from 12, both of his tributes dead or dying before a gift could be sent, and sometimes his own drunkenness, adding to his sense of shame and self-loathing, had all conspired. And he didn't know, as intrepid as Katniss and Peeta had turned out to be, if he could have swung it now without Effie.
They were in the Viewing Room set aside for mentors, with a big screen at the front for the live feed and up to five individual viewing screens per mentor that they could manipulate to look around the arena.
Effie usually watched the Games with the other stylists, and escorts, and major patrons of the Games. Even ticket winners made their way there. As long as they kept the ticket winners out of the Viewing Room, he didn't give a shit who came and went from the mentors' Viewing Room.
Haymitch held onto Effie, and looked down into her face. Her lipstick and face powder were fading. He felt a deep yearning to know what her face looked like. He looked at her lips.
Her smile faltered, so he looked into her gray-blue eyes instead. Her eyes were wide, a little uncertain.
"I'm so glad you got Katniss that medicine."
They were being watched too closely, not by the mentors, who were too busy and too polite to watch (though they might tease him mercilessly once she was gone), but by the Gamemakers.
He couldn't say anything out loud, but he touched first his chest, then hers, to indicate they had worked together.
She beamed. He thought maybe she was very pretty under her ghoul masks.
Effie recollected where they were, made her goodbyes and left the Viewing Room.
A few hours later, all the tributes were asleep. Haymitch couldn't remember the last time they had an arena that safe, but he supposed this would be what Plutarch had called "a cliffhanger". More people than usual would watch it tomorrow to say they had watched the tracker jacker episode.
The other mentors filed out one by one over the next half hour, but Haymitch stayed. He had a camera that showed Peeta and Katniss. They were as safe as they would ever be in the arena. He was worried, and elated, scared, a little nauseated. He had been drinking, but felt sober, lit up like a live wire.
Cinna came in, sitting next to him.
"The girl on fire," he said, shaking his head.
Haymitch looked at him. Last year, he had been wearing the same pancake makeup Effie did, a blue wig with a fishing boat wrought in pearls and white gold, and a light-up jacket. He had almost been shocked at how different Cinna looked this year. The totally black ensemble, his real hair; but more than that, the grave look on his face.
Now he looked graver than ever, possibly angry.
"Hey," he said, laying a hand on Cinna's arm. He was nervously rubbing his palms together, but stopped at Haymitch's touch. "She's smart. She got away."
Cinna smiled briefly, then turned to look at him. "Then her mentor got her medicine."
Haymitch nodded. "Yep. We all agreed to be a team this year, and 12's tributes are alive after day two. I'm glad you came up with the idea of being attention-getting. I thought the time was ripe for trying the coal miner outfits again." Translated: even if they got the idea from you, it's not your fault and you've helped more than you've hurt. At least, Haymitch hoped he understood the translation and that they were being watched very closely indeed. A mentor and a stylist rarely had a reason to hang out during the actual Games.
Cinna blinked quickly a few times, and then laughed. "Yeah," he said, "My designs are making a killing right now."
They made a little show for anyone watching: Cinna, the self-involved stylist, and Haymitch, the disinterested mentor. Then Cinna left when Haymitch pretended to pass out.