Prompt: Hello – I just read the one-shot with all the Lyssa and Effie moments, and it was perfection. The last scene broke my heart! Can I prompt a story where postMJ Lyssa and Effie become close again, please I would love it if it was a longer one-shot about them reconnecting, but I will take anything. I also have my final exam for medical school next week, so would love it if you could make an exception and post it early. Completely understand if don't want to do that though, I will wait patiently.
This is clearly one year late so I hope you passed your exam! And if you did congrats!
Lyssa Flavershym To The Rescue
The knock on the door came just as he was crossing the hallway from the living-room to the kitchen with two empty bottles. He switched course without thinking twice about it, used by now to people bothering him in the middle of the day.
One year after the rebellion, rebuilding was still in full swing and the people were still few, it wasn't uncommon for someone to fetch him because they needed muscles in town. He often went with Peeta. It was good for the boy to do something and Haymitch liked helping him put the bakery back together but it was more of a District effort and they always ended up helping neighbors with their walls or roofs or whatever needed to be fixed.
He glanced at the stairs behind him before opening the front door but the house was silent. He resolutely ignored the tinge of worry. Effie hadn't been down in a couple of days and without her obsessive bouts of cleaning and her nightly tidying up, the house had become a mess he was attempting to straighten before she came back to her senses and started ranting about how much of a sob he was. Not that she had any right to call him a sob in his own house, of course, but that was Effie Trinket for you.
She was visiting, or so she insisted. It had been five months now and five months of living in his guest room made it more or less obvious to him that the arrangement would be permanent.
It had been odd five months too.
Effie was… not the same. For the children's sake, she put up a mask of cheerfulness and over the top enthusiasm that dropped flat as soon as they left the house. Haymitch wasn't sure they were fooled but they were good enough not to say anything. Peeta was the most attuned to her needs and he was always very dutiful in making her feel useful, in allowing her that small dignity of being who she chose to pretend she still was.
She never bothered pretending for Haymitch.
Oh, she tried sometimes… But there was only so much pretending she could do when she woke up screaming at odd hours of the night or when she crawled into his bed still shaking from her nightmare when she didn't simply start moping the floors at two a.m. because she couldn't bear the thought of anything being filthy. She couldn't hide the fact she had become claustrophobic nor the small matter of her needing all doors and windows to be locked at night. She couldn't hide the flinches at loud noises or the growing panic in complete silence. She couldn't hide the fact she was terrified of the dark or her new aversion to being touched.
It was hard to navigate around her. She tried her best not to take too much room in his house – mainly because she had invaded it without his consent, he figured – but it was their limbo of a relationship that was the most complicated. He wasn't sure what they were, wasn't sure where they were going from there, if they were going anywhere at all… Former lovers. Roommates. So much more than that.
Nothing stirred at all upstairs and Haymitch pursed his lips as he pulled the door open. It had been a string of bad days and he was worried about her. Last time he had checked on her, she had been curled up under her blankets with a faraway look in her eyes. He hadn't gotten more than five words out of her.
He had been expecting one of the men who worked in town or maybe Sae but certainly not the woman who was standing in front of his front door.
"Mr Abernathy." she greeted him quietly with a nod.
One glance-over was enough for him to determine she was Capitol. No wig – they had gone out of fashion or so Effie had informed them all several times – and tasteful make-up but there was something about her that didn't lie. It was in her bearing, the way she kept her chin high and studied him as if he was… inferior. She had glossy straight blond hair kept away from her face with a blue ribbon that matched the dress he could guess at under her open white coat. Her purse had the gleam of brand new leather, her heels didn't have a single scratch and the jewelry was probably worth enough to buy his house two times over.
Not only was she Capitol, but she had money.
"What do you want?" he growled.
She was conducting her own inspection and he had no doubt she was finding him lacking. And why wouldn't she? His grey long-sleeve shirt had a hole under the armpit – something she could definitely see given that he was holding the door to bar her entrance – the red and white checkered sweatpants were hanging low on his hips because the waistband was old, he hadn't bothered shaving since Effie had been locked in her room and the facial hair was actually starting to itch given how out of control it was, his hair was too long, his eyes were bloodshot because he hadn't been drinking enough, he wasn't wearing any shoes and, of course, there were the two empty bottles in his hand. And he supposed he wasn't smelling very nice because he couldn't remember the last time he had taken a shower That too had been before Effie had fallen prisoner to her depression.
The woman's face was somehow familiar but he couldn't place it.
"I am looking for Effie Trinket." she said. Her voice was sweet and her tone calm but there was steel hidden underneath. "I was told I could find her here."
"Press is forbidden to come into the Village." he growled, taking a threatening step closer. "Get lost before I call the Peacekeepers. And if I see you again…"
"I am not a journalist." She pursed her lips as if the accusation was actually painful. The pout was familiar. Very familiar.
He studied her more attentively but he really didn't know her. He was fairly confident she hadn't worked for them during the Games. No stylist or prep team… Not that they were many of them left.
"Lawyer, then." he sighed. Or court bailiff or whatever. "Just tell me how much she owns you and I'll write you a check."
It wasn't the first time and it wouldn't be the last. The rebels had left her without a penny to her name. They had waited until he had gone back to Twelve with Katniss, far away enough that he couldn't interfere again, and then they had seized her – admittedly large – bank account as well as her apartment and everything worth money that hadn't yet been stolen in it. There were bills from before the war, huge ones, and debts she had contracted afterwards when she had tried to make a life for herself in the city. Living in the Capitol wasn't affordable for people who used to be wealthy nowadays: they lived in shelters, begged for jobs in the streets and were generally having a tough time managing their hard-earned money. Effie hadn't managed to find a job. Nobody wanted to hire her. He wasn't sure how she had kept the matchbox she had been living in for so long and he really didn't want to ask what sort of arrangements she had had with her landlord. He had been forced to deal with the man when he had sent him the bill of four unpaid months of rent and he hadn't been impressed.
Most of the time, he tried to keep the money problems away from her. It wasn't fair, certainly, and Peeta had more than once told him she would be angry when she would figure it out, but the crux of the matter was that she had no money, no job and no prospect for now and that telling her would only force her to ask him for help, which mortified her and left her uneasy around him. Haymitch would rather deal with this stuff behind her back and face the music later on, once she would be better – or never if she never found out. In his opinion, he owed her anyway.
The woman's blue eyes gave him another once-over. "You misunderstand me. I am not a journalist and I am not a lawyer, I would simply like to see Effie Trinket."
"Why? So you can tell her she's a traitor to your precious Capitol?" he scowled. "Get lost, lady."
He slammed the door in her face and turned around to discard the empty bottles, grumbling under his breath about stupid Capitols who needed their head bashed in a wall to get some sense into them.
He was nowhere near the kitchen door when the knocking started again. Well, it was more of a pounding this time.
"I said get the fuck away!" he shouted, tossing the bottles at the front door, feeling a deep sense of satisfaction when he heard the sound of smashed glass. The knocking stopped and all that filled the silence was his ragged breathing. He waited for Effie to call his name in worry, to ask what was going on, but it didn't come. He rubbed his face and let out a sigh. He hated those kinds of days. He hated them. It was like she was trapped somewhere in her mind and there was next to no getting to her.
"I am Lyssandra Flavershym!" the woman snapped through the door.
"Congratulations for you ridiculous name!" he spat, prevented from striding there and tearing the door open to physically remove her by the sea of glass on the floor. He couldn't go there barefoot without hurting himself.
Flavershym. That ringed a bell.
And suddenly he remembered. She was…
"I demand to see my sister at once!" she insisted. There was a loud thud and he figured she had hit the door again. "You cannot keep her prisoner! I will go fetch Peacekeepers! I will…"
Muttering a curse and trying to avoid the shards as much as he could, he carefully made his way to the door and opened it again. She fell silent mid-threat.
"Thought you weren't interested in whatever happened to her?" he accused, glaring at the woman. "Thought you hated her?"
Effie's mother had come once to the hospitalto beg her to do something about her Gamemaker of a brother-in-law, to use her imaginary influence with the rebels to save him, and, when Effie and Haymitch had told the woman in no uncertain terms that they couldn't – and wouldn't – do anything, the Capitol had stormed out in such a fury Effie had cried for two hours afterwards, swearing her family wanted nothing to do with her anymore. He knew she had tried to contact them again after her release from the hospital and he knew they had kicked her out the door. He knew her sister had been particularly vicious.
Lyssandra had the gracefulness to blush.
It was a pretty blush but, then again, everything about the woman was pretty. She was soft in a way Effie had never really been. She looked like one of those old painting. Frail and delicate. A sweet candy.
He understood where the deep-rooted jealousy Effie had always sported for her sister came from but he really couldn't see the appeal. He would take Effie and her scars and the dark bags under her eyes any day against this woman who had barely known any hardship in her life.
She had lost her husband, sure, but from what he had gathered, the husband hadn't been faithful or particularly nice.
"May I come in?" she asked after clearing her throat. "I wish to speak to my sister."
"Yeah, you said." he sneered, folding his arms in front of his chest, an immovable wall. "What do you want to tell her?"
There was a flash of irritation on her face and then she flicked her hair back, betraying how nervous she actually was. "I do not think it is any of your business."
"It's my business if you're here to upset her." he retorted.
She jutted her chin higher in the air in a move that was so Effie it took his breath away for a minute. She never did that anymore. She had no fire left in her. Being contradictory just for the sake of the argument wasn't on the table now.
But it only lasted a second. Then Lyssa deflated, her eyes pleading, her expression helpless in an attitude that, he suspected, was more her style. She's the sweet one, he remembered Effie saying once. He didn't think the open vulnerability was an act designed to move him, at least not a conscious one.
"I do not plan on upsetting her. I simply… I would like to see her, to talk to her… To understand why…" Lyssandra stopped talking and sighed. "May I come in? Please?"
Haymitch knew better than to trust a charming face but the woman seemed harmless enough so he stepped aside.
"Mind the glass." he mumbled, glaring at the shard that had nicked his foot. He was a bit alarmed to see she was carrying a suitcase with her but he didn't comment on that just yet, a bit too afraid that she would settle in his other guest room. Trinket women liked to do that, it seemed. "I'm gonna see if she wants to see you." he told her, gesturing at her to go in the living-room. "If she wants you to leave, you're out the door, understood?"
Lyssandra nodded once and stood there, clutching the handle of her suitcase, looking terribly lost in the living-room, as if not quite certain she ought to sit or not. He didn't tell her to make herself at home and her manners didn't allow her to simply take the liberty to do so.
He took the steps two at a time and strode to Effie's room.
"Hey, sweetheart…" he called ahead, not to startle her. She didn't even blink when he walked in though. She was staring at the wall, curled up in the middle of the bed. She was wearing one of his flannel shirts, the same she had been wearing as a pajamas for a few days now, and she looked so small in it… The breakfast tray he had carried up earlier had been left untouched on the nightstand and he swallowed back his irritation. It wasn't just the wasted food, it was the fact she wasn't eating properly when she was far too thin. "Someone's there to see you." He crouched next to the bed but there was no visible reaction. "Your sister's here. Lyssandra? Says she wants to see you."
He brushed her tangled hair back, letting his fingers trail down her cheek.
"Come on, Effie." he sighed. "I know it's difficult but you need to come back, yeah? Wake up. Princess…"
No amount of pleading worked, though. Her eyes briefly flickered to him once and she leaned a little into his hand but it was all she consented to give him. Maybe if he had curled up behind her and held her for a while… But he had tried that the previous day and it hadn't worked. And chances were it would only make it worse anyway. It was one thing when she sought him out for hugs or sneaked into his bed at night and asked him to hold her, it was another to do it without her consent. She tended to freak out.
"Alright." He was frustrated beyond measure but he stood up before he could lose his temper. It wasn't her fault. "Maybe later."
She would snap out of it eventually.
He took the tray back down with him and, out of sheer annoyance, tossed the lot in the sink. Cups and glasses broke but it was the theme of the day apparently. He felt like punching something. He dropped on a chair and grabbed a nearby bottle, contemplating the idea of calling the kids over while taking a sip. He had asked them to keep their distance when it had become clear it would be a bad day, mindful of her wish to keep her problems from the children, but it had been three days now and the kids would reach her. It was magical. She would put a front for them. She might crash even harder afterwards but he also might be able to get to her in the interval.
A soft cough made him jump to his feet. He turned around to see the stranger lurking on the threshold.
"I apologize but you were not coming back and…" she started.
"It's not a good time." he cut her off angrily. "You should come back another time."
The woman blinked and then her eyebrows shot up. "You do realize it was a lot of trouble for me to come here, yes? Twelve is not exactly next door."
"Do I look like I care?" he spat.
Lyssandra pursed her lips tight. "Enough is enough."
She turned on her heels and before he had realized what she intended to do and given chase, she was halfway up the stairs.
"You get out of my house now." he warned, grabbing her arm.
She shrugged his hand off, clearly frightened out of her wits but unwilling to relent. "Do not touch me or I will scream, you oaf! Effie! Effie!"
He didn't want to hurt a defenseless woman, as annoying as she was, and thus he was forced to follow her close, trying to intimidate her into leaving while actually not touching her. She was determined, he would give her that.
Once she found Effie's room, she rushed in, took in the state her sister was in and whirled around, tears in her eyes and an accusing finger jutting into his chest. "What have you done to her? What did you give her? She's drugged!"
"Didn't give her shit!" he denied, incensed by that allegation. "She's just… She's… She's fucking traumatized, alright? You've got nerves coming here and accusing me of hurting her! You've got some nerve!"
"I am taking her back with me!" Lyssandra shouted. "Try to stop me, I dare you! I will come back with soldiers if I have to! I am taking my sister back home!"
"You're touching her over my dead body." he snarled, his voice dropping to a low dangerous tone. "She's here 'cause she wants to be. Your family couldn't give a rat ass about her and now…"
"But we are her family!" the woman hissed. "And you are no one to her. You have been keeping her here against her will. I just know you have!"
"Listen, now…" He took a step closer, glaring at her, ready to toss his good intentions out the door and her along with them while he was at it.
Effie let out a whine and curled up tighter, making them both shut up. She was trembling.
"Oh, darling!" Lyssandra whispered, hurrying to the bed.
"Don't…" Haymitch tried to warn but too late. She touched Effie's shoulder, probably intending to hug her, and Effie bolted, her eyes wide and unseeing, her breath coming out in pants. She hit the window hard with her bad shoulder and slid down the wall, jaw clenched in pain. The pain had the advantage of making her a little bit lucid though. He saw his chance and took it. "Effie." he said softly. "You're safe. You're in Twelve. I'm right here. Nobody's gonna hurt you. I'm right here."
She blinked fast, her pants loud in the newly found silence. Slowly, ever so slowly, her gaze traveled up until it rested on him. "Haymitch."
It came out strangled.
He smirked. "Yeah. I'm here. You're safe. You've been… You've been spacing out for a while, sweetheart. Was getting worried."
He didn't make the mistake of trying to come closer, not yet, not until she made it clear she wanted him to. Her body was still tense.
"How long?" she asked. She closed her eyes and tried to work on her breathing but she ended up gasping air like a fish out of water.
"A few days." he told her.
Lyssandra moved as if to come closer but he glared at her and she must have gotten the message because she stayed put. The harm was done though. Effie's eyes had snapped open and she was staring at the woman as if she was a threat. She didn't seem to be able to get her breath back.
"Where?" she croaked.
"We're in Twelve, Effie." he told her again. "Everything else is over. You're in Twelve with me."
"I'm safe?" she insisted.
"Yeah." he promised. "I'm right here. Won't let anything happen to you."
And with that she finally looked at him and her body relaxed. He took that as his cue and came closer, careful not to make any sudden move. She tensed a little when he placed his hand on her arm but she soon relaxed.
"I am tired." she whispered.
"You're dehydrated and hungry." he countered. "'Cause you're a stubborn pain in my ass who doesn't appreciate my cooking."
Lyssa gasped in outrage but a small smile floated on Effie's lips because she knew he was only teasing.
"I love your cooking." she denied.
"Good. 'Cause you're overdue for some breakfast." he retorted. "You think you can stand or you want me to carry you?"
She mused that over for a moment and then looped her arms around his neck. He lifted her up swiftly.
"You reek." she grumbled, wrinkling her nose.
"Yeah, well, you're a bit ripe yourself." he snorted. "Breakfast first. Then I'm gonna run you a bath, alright?"
"Alright." she agreed easily, resting her cheek on his shoulder.
Her sister was completely forgotten in his sudden hurry to carry her downstairs and get fluids and food into her before she started being contradictory again. He was aware she was trailing behind them but Effie had yet to acknowledge her presence and he had more pressing worries.
"Why is there glass everywhere?" she asked him when they reached the hallway.
"Dropped a bottle." he mumbled. "Don't worry, I'm gonna clean it up."
"You're barefoot. You shouldn't be barefoot if you dropped a bottle." she pointed out with concern.
"You're barefoot too so don't go walking around." he reminded her because he was certain it wasn't something she would have thought of. She would have grabbed a broom and tried to clean the mess up out of worry he would hurt himself and never pause to think she might get injured. That sort of things slipped her mind nowadays. She couldn't bear any mess anywhere. He placed her down on one of the kitchen's chair and immediately poured her a glass of her fancy orange juice – pulp free – that needed to be shipped straight from the city. "Drink up."
She obediently took a sip, which told him she wasn't as lucid as she should have been yet.
He put bread in the toaster and whipped out the pan to make her eggs.
"Effie?" Lyssandra called uncertainly from the threshold.
Having mostly forgotten about her, Haymitch glanced over his shoulder with some wariness. Effie really needed to eat something and he didn't want her sister to upset her before he had managed to get her to swallow at least a few bites.
"Look, maybe you could…" he started, ready to offer the use of the living-room if only it would keep her away for a few minutes.
"Haymitch, where am I?" Effie asked, cutting him off. She was rubbing her face. "I… I think I am in Twelve but…"
"You are in Twelve, sweetheart." he promised.
"Home?" she whispered.
It was the first time he heard her refer to the house as home and it made him feel… Strangely good. He liked that. The idea that this was her home. Their home. It certainly feel less than a tomb than when he had been living in there alone.
"Yeah. We're home." he offered,
"What's wrong with her?" Lyssandra asked, sounding horrified.
"Nothing's wrong with her." he snapped defensively. "She's just a bit confused. It's gonna wear off in a minute."
Effie was frowning. "Is she… Is she real?"
Ah. He winced. He should have thought of that. She didn't trust her mind sometimes. "Yeah. I told you your sister came to see you, remember? She's real, yeah."
"Oh, darling…" Lyssandra exclaimed once more, with a little too much dramatic in his opinion. She sat down next to Effie and grabbed her free hand in hers. Effie eyed her warily, still bringing her glass of orange juice to her lips from time to time, often glancing at Haymitch as if to make sure he wasn't going anywhere. If the woman noticed, she didn't let on. "I came to… Well, I wanted to talk to you about what happened to Rufus but it doesn't matter anymore. I had no idea you were so ill. Mother didn't say. If I had known…"
"I am not ill." Effie refuted with a hint of her usual haughtiness.
It made Haymitch smirk. He dropped the toasts in a plate along with the eggs and plucked the jar of strawberry jam from the cupboard before dropping everything on the table in front of her. Lyssandra barely looked away.
"You cannot be held responsible for what you did, of course. I had no idea… Mother, didn't say." the woman insisted. "I am very sorry, darling. If I had known…"
"You said that already." he pointed out, pouring coffee into two mugs. He placed one in front of Effie and kept the second one for himself. Effie looked at him with a lifted eyebrow when he sat down and he rolled his eyes, stood up and fetched another cup for her sister who didn't look very grateful about it.
"I will take you home." Lyssandra declared.
Effie froze and snatched her hand away from hers. "I am home."
She glanced at him uncertainly and he nodded once. It probably wasn't the right time to tease her about her visiting but it was a shame because she had been so adamant…
"Do not be silly." Lyssandra huffed gently. "You need doctors."
"No. No doctors." Effie refused quickly, standing up so fast the chair clattered to the floor behind her. She hugged herself and took a few steps away from her sister.
"No doctors." Haymitch promised firmly. "Sweetheart, nobody's taking you anywhere you don't want to go. Sit down and eat something."
She hesitated for a few seconds before coming back to the table. It didn't escape his notice that, while she picked up the chair, she chose to sat down next to him instead, on the other side of the table from her sister. It didn't escape his notice either that she was sitting closer than strictly necessary. He simply reached out and dragged her plate closer, as well as her glass of juice and her mug of coffee. He also forced the fork in her hand and pointed at the plate.
She swallowed two mouthfuls, studying Lyssandra with obvious wariness.
Lyssandra, who clearly wasn't liking what she was seeing.
"There were talks of putting her in an institution." he explained because he could understand what it looked like. Effie was dancing to his tune when she usually was a very independent woman. She had accused him of having drugged her earlier and he supposed that was how his former escort looked to outsiders right now: drugged, sluggish. It would pass. Hopefully in half an hour, once she was fed and had washed, she would be back to her senses. "Doctors aren't her favorite people. Don't upset her."
"She is not well." Lyssandra insisted petulantly.
"She is sitting right here." Effie snapped. "Where are your manners, Lyssa?" She pursed her lips and spared him a glare. "It is useless for me to ask that of you naturally." He snorted and leaned back in his chair, stretching his arm behind her, making sure not to crowd her too much. She relaxed and ate another few forkfuls of eggs. "I am not going back to the Capitol. If that is why you came…"
"I came because… I told you. I wanted to understand why you did not help with Rufus." Lyssa countered. "I…"
"There was nothing Haymitch or I could do." Effie sighed, rubbing her forehead. "I told Mother… We told Mother… It was complicated enough to keep me from being tried and sentenced at the time. We did even know for sure if…"
"Wouldn't have risked my neck for your husband anyway." Haymitch cut her off. "I had my family to look out for."
"You are not helping." she chided him, taking a sip of orange juice.
"Ain't trying to." he scoffed.
Lyssandra looked hurt, angry and puzzled all at once. Her face was an open book. It was lucky for her she had been a good little citizen. She would never have made it otherwise.
"I am sorry for your loss." Effie offered.
A heavy silence fell on the kitchen after that and, aware of Effie's uncomfortable fidgeting, Haymitch briefly stood up to turn up the old radio. The volume was soft, it was barely a background noise, but she flashed him a grateful smile anyway.
"I do not think I can eat anymore." she declared ten minutes after that. "It was delicious. Thank you, Haymitch."
Her plate was still half full and he made a face. "Try to finish the eggs, Effie."
She shook her head. "I will be sick."
"No, you won't." he sighed. "Come on. Please."
She let out a sigh of her own and forced herself to eat what was left of the eggs. She did look a little nauseous afterwards but she also shrugged. "Are you happy now?"
"Ah, sweetheart, you know me…" he teased. "Always the happiest one of the lot." She chuckled and he smiled because she sounded a lot more like herself now. "Still want that bath?"
She placed a hand on his forearm and squeezed gently. "I can manage. You should clean the broken glass. And put slippers on first." He rolled his eyes but smirked, watching her stand up. It was only when Lyssandra moved that they both looked at her, having managed yet again to forget about her. She was very forgettable when Effie was in the room, in Haymitch's opinion. His former escort seemed to hesitate. "Where… I mean… Are you staying for a few days or…"
"I am staying." Lyssandra confirmed, glancing at him as if daring him to refuse.
He decided to ignore her and finish the food Effie had left. He didn't want it to go to waste for a second time.
Effie seemed oblivious to the silent challenge. "Alright. Perhaps you should… You should take my room. It is the most comfortable guest room. The other one is very small and it does not have a bathroom."
"I do not want to put you out." Lyssa protested.
"Oh, it is fine." she dismissed. "I can share with Haymitch."
He did a double take at that, freezing mid-chew.
"If you are sure." her sister said, a bit mistrustful, as if she was suspecting him of having planned the whole thing.
Not that he cared.
He was too busy staring at Effie.
She crawled in his bed after nightmares, yes. She tolerated him climbing in with her if he went to comfort her after she had woken up screaming. But had no point had she hinted at the both of them starting the night in the same bed.
And she had offered that so casually…
It almost made him not mind the invasion of his privacy. He had been about to suggest putting her sister in one of the empty houses in the Village instead but he held his tongue, suddenly more interested in having her over for a few days.
Effie was barely down from her bath, dressed in a bright pink dress and her hair tied in a somewhat fancy bun, when the children showed up for lunch. They paused when they saw Lyssandra but soon hurried to greet Effie, fussing over and asking if she felt better. Migraines was the official code name for that kind of slip and Effie assured them the headache was gone and that Haymitch had taken admirable care of her while making the rest of the house an absolute mess.
She was bubbly and very much pulling an act but Haymitch held his peace, mainly because he saw how tentative she was around her sister. She was the perfect poster child for a gracious hostess but she was also distant and mistrustful.
There were all very mindful of each others' triggers but Lyssa kept making blunders that had Effie briefly freezing or sent Katniss and Peeta into a sulk. Haymitch navigated it all with the ease of habits.
He didn't think he imagined her sister slowly relaxing around him when she finally realized he wasn't drugging her or keeping her there by duress but was instead taking care of her. Trying to, at least.
Still, it was a bit awkward when bedtime came to have to dance around each other. It was even more awkward once they were in bed. They stayed on their respective side of the bed and Haymitch felt so… weird.
He rolled on his side to look at her in the soft glow of the side lamp she needed to sleep. She was staring at the ceiling and only slowly turned her head in his direction after a few minutes.
"It was an odd day, wasn't it?" she hummed. "I am sorry about Lyssa imposing. I do not think she will stay more than a couple of days. She wants to reconnect. I think I would like that."
"It's your home too." he shrugged. "You can have people over."
"She is very Capitol." she pointed out knowingly.
And by that Haymitch figured she meant to say her sister was fussy and turned up her nose at a lot of things nobody in the District would have taken for granted.
"You are too." he smirked.
Her eyes studied his face. "She is very pretty. And full of life. And… Sane."
"You're not crazy, sweetheart." he scoffed.
"But she is pretty and lively." she insisted.
"You've got a point?" He rolled his eyes.
"She's sweet-tempered." she added. "And everyone loves her."
He wondered briefly if this somehow pointed discourse had anything to do with her sudden readiness to share his bed.
"Yeah, well… I like my women impossible and bossy so there you have it." he countered. "What's this even about?"
She didn't answer at once. She rolled on her side to face him and reached out slowly, bunching his shirt in her fist. He didn't try to touch her, she was in control there. She set the pace, she dictated what she wanted… He owed her that. For what she had been through, he owed her that.
"You are a good man, Haymitch." she whispered.
He really wasn't.
But for her…
For her he was willing to try.