"Well, that was terrible," he says to Effie, after Katniss and Peeta leave the dining car.
"Yes, I hope we're treated with a little more dignity in 10."
Haymitch looks at her.
She returns his exasperated expression and says, "What?"
"Nothing." He brushes imaginary lint off his trouser leg. "What do you think was happening? Back there, in 11?"
Effie takes a deep breath. "Something to do with Katniss and Peeta's speech? I must say, it was…unusual."
Haymitch nods, gestures for her to go on.
She looks around pointedly, then looks back at him. "How can we help them get through this Tour?"
Haymitch shakes his head.
"We work hard to get them through the Tour best we can. No more mishaps. I've already talked to them about that. If we survive the Tour, we'll go from there."
Effie looks surprised but says nothing. He expects her to defend the Capitol, say something tone deaf and awful. She looks out the train windows and speaks.
"They are victors," she says. "Their job now is to live well and mentor new tributes." She looks at Haymitch again. "I want to help. You don't have to tell me everything but please, when I can help, tell me."
Haymitch is impressed in spite of himself. He wants to tell her what it means to him that they're finally working together, but no doubt Snow has his minions watching the train around the clock.
So he repays her kindness and trust with his own.
"I will," he says.
District 8 is still the gloomiest place Haymitch has ever seen. The perpetual steam from cleaning and treating cloth, the smell of big vats of bubbling dye and bleach, and the dark, heavy clouds make 12 look almost cheery. Haymitch had been appalled at how skinny the women and children were 24 years ago, and now he forces himself to look, then look to the parent, hoping to silently convey that Katniss, and those around her, know what they're going through. Someone is seeing it, and taking note.
He thinks he's probably the worst person on their team to be conveying such eye messages, because everyone thinks he's angry all the time. When he mentions this to Cinna, he says, "That's good. They're angry, too."
He's noticed something is different about Cinna than it was at the 74th Games. He's smiling a lot, looking out of windows, and humming while he works. He's glad to see him so happy, and finally figures it out one night at the party in 8.
"You've got a special someone," he says, as they both get up for drinks.
Cinna looks away, but Haymitch sees the smile on his face.
"I'm trying to keep him from thinking it's long-term, but I guess he has become my… special someone."
They walk back to their table, thankfully well away from Effie, where she's "playing hostess" even though the entire Eighth District is actually hosting. It's not a pretty sight. Her smile falters, she looks nervous every time she speaks. She doesn't realize it's because she's Capitol. She thinks it's because of her hosting abilities, and when she sees Haymitch she mouths, "Help me."
Haymitch does, introducing himself, and then he asks Effie to tell these fine people where they've been on tour.
Effie looks surprised, but launches into a highly edited account of their trip to 11, and the city officials are genuinely interested now. He goes back to his table, passing Peeta and Katniss, who are hiding behind a column, kissing and whispering. He decides not to tell them the cameras are gone and rejoins Cinna.
"You're good at this," Cinna says.
Haymitch drinks his brandy and says, "What?"
"Navigating tense, emotional situations. If you had been born in the Capitol… Well, never mind."
He drinks a little while and realizes he needs to know what Cinna had been trying to say.
"What was that about, 'If you had been born in the Capitol,' what?"
Cinna looks embarrassed. "Please, Haymitch, I misspoke and regretted it immediately."
Haymitch just looks at him quietly, a move that always gets Katniss to start talking, and it works on Cinna, too.
"I was just going to say, if you had been born in the Capitol, you would have risen high. But as I was saying it, I thought, 'No, if Haymitch had been born in the Capitol, he would be another useless Capitol citizen.' Maybe you would have even risen as high as stylist of the Games."
"You're pretty far from useless," Haymitch replies.
Cinna shakes his head and won't look at him.
Haymitch puts his drinkless hand on Cinna's arm, and Cinna looks at him.
"You're the best stylist of the Games in a generation," he says, a big smile on his face.
It's a propo Plutarch put out, that has a lot of pictures of Cinna superimposed over images of crimson roses, and in the beginning, before Cinna started recognizing the opening musical riff and turned the screen off before they could watch, that was always the first thing the propo said. "The best stylist in a generation."
Cinna laughs, and pushes Haymitch's hand away.
"Get out of here. Go irritate your girlfriend."
Haymitch just finishes his drink and sits there, watching the dancers and the room with Cinna.
"Why are you tellin your boy it's not long-term?"
"I won't dignify that with an answer."
"Nothing is that set in stone. You could get out of this."
"Yeah, like Seneca? Like anyone that's done a victor a favor?"
Haymitch regards his friend. Cinna is certain he'll die. He's seen this sort of thing before, especially the younger victors. He doesn't realize yet that there are worse fates than death, and Snow knows every one of them. He wishes he could say something to get Cinna to stop mourning his own death before it happens, but his own response has been to become an isolationist who is drinking himself to death, and he can't come up with advice on how to deal with the grief of one's mortality.
"We needed people in the Capitol. I was never…" He stops, laughs, and looks at Katniss without thinking about it. "I was never good at making friends. So we waited for enough people who were. It moved slowly, but we moved, and now we're here. And we wouldn't be without you."
Cinna nods. "Thank you. I think I should ask Katniss to dance."
Haymitch grins. "Better you than me."