Prompt: Could you do a prompt where haymitch learns what Effie is short for? (I love your blog btw)

Eleven's Escort Is A Tramp

"This is a tragedy." Chaff sighed in his glass of whiskey with entirely too much drama and gloom.

Haymitch exchanged an amused look with Finnick. The boy wisely took a sip of his own drink, letting his twinkling eyes roam over the gardens. The party was taking place at a sponsor's manor, up in the hills, and Haymitch had to admit it wasn't the best one he had ever attended. Everyone had more or less deserted the ballroom and its depressing string quartet to mingle in the gardens but half the guests had already left in search of funnier places to spend the night in. Victors and escorts, on the other hand, were stuck there at the risk of vexing their host and possibly lose a sponsoring offer. He didn't know what was keeping the Capitols who had chosen to say but he was ready to bet on business deals or social arrangements.

"The one with the green wig isn't bad." he shrugged, tilting his own glass in the direction of the woman who had caught his eyes. Well… She hadn't really caught his eyes. Not much in the way of legs. But she had a generous cleavage and that was right down his best friend's alley. "Try her."

Chaff studied the woman from afar, made a face and swallowed a big mouthful. "From behind maybe. With my eyes closed."

Finnick chuckled a little. "Didn't you hook up with that sponsor just yesterday?"

"That was business." Chaff dismissed, waving his stump in the air. "Well… Pleasure too, Jalys's never boring, but that was an easy one. I want the thrill of the hunt."

Haymitch choked on his whiskey and half-coughed half-laughed, a little relieved his escort wasn't around to hear that kind of discourse. Somehow, he was sure he would end up being blamed for Eleven's victor's casualness and less than stellar approach when it came to women.

"What about you, Haymitch?" Finnick asked. "No one interests you?"

There was a touch of teasing in the boy's voice but it was mostly hesitant. The kid was a little shit and he liked hanging out with them but Mags didn't always let him because they were apparently a bad influence – oh, it was said with love and fondness but she wasn't exactly thrilled with the fact they tended to bring her a drunk seventeen year old every time Finnick stuck around them. The kid was still trying to get his footing around the other victors.

"Chaff's not wrong." he conceded. "Not many women here worth the trouble."

"Plus, he knows he can get some tonight if he wants to so that helps." his best friend mocked. "Must be nice having an escort ready to fill your every need."

Chaff had drunk too much and Haymitch had been lagging behind on that account. Eleven's victor sounded a bit bitter, as if it was particularly unfair that Twelve not only had the acknowledged best escort of the lot but also one that was willing to sleep with him. Not that it was official. Or that simple.

"Don't know what you're talking about." he muttered.

Finnick's good mood seemed to have taken a turn. Haymitch rolled his eyes, annoyed with his friends. Between the one who wanted to screw Trinket because he didn't think he would find anyone better to warm his bed that night and the one who had been sporting a silly crush for her as much as long as he had known her… Well.

"Sure, you don't." Chaff snickered. "Fine. Keep your secret. We're gonna pretend we believe you. Right, kid?"

"You really need to stop with that." he countered before Finnick could open his mouth and make it worse. "I told you I'm not fucking her."

"And I told you I believe you." his friend retorted, snatching another glass from a passing tray. "I'm sure she wouldn't be happy to go down on her knees for you tonight if you asked." Chaff wrinkled his nose at the thought. "Does she do that? 'Cause, you know… She's got that huge pole in her ass… Though, I guess it's always the quietest ones, yeah? Maybe she likes actually having poles in her ass… You ever…"

"Don't finish this sentence." Haymitch warned in a snarl.

He downed the rest of his glass and handed it to Finnick before storming away from his friends and their stupidity. When they were both equally drunk, he tended to find Chaff hilarious. When he was too sober for his own good, a drunk Chaff talking about Effie in that casual way made his blood boil.

Not that he cared about her but…

She had been his escort for six years now and his lover for four and he figured that meant she had earned some respect, Capitol drone or not. There was a line in the sand when it came to her and most people knew to stay on the right side of it. She was an escort and she could handle herself and for those reasons he never got involved when other victors mocked her a little but sometimes… Sometimes it went too far. And he felt the need to punch someone.

His mood brightened a bit when he spotted her a bit on the edge of the crowd, studying the groups of people wandering around, clearly assessing which one should be her next target. She was wearing a navy blue long dress with a puffy tulle skirt with a bustier that came up in the middle to weave around her neck in a sort of silver collar, the fabric then ran down her spine to reattach at the back of the skirt, leaving the rest of her back bare. Not the worst one. The navy wig with its puffy hairdo almost looked black in the dimmed lights and didn't bother him all that much.

Her lips quirked up when she spotted his approach, her spider-like faked eyelashes batting in obvious amusement. She didn't say anything and she didn't let him get close enough to talk, she started retreating in the shadows, leading him in a merry chase toward the deserted side of the house, far enough from the party that they wouldn't be bothered.

When he could barely hear the sound of voices anymore, he grabbed her wrist and pinned her to a nearby pillar. Her laugh echoed in the night, bright and full of joy. It eased something in him, like always. She didn't laugh often, not really, her fake one didn't count, and he relished in it.

"Well, that was a waste of an evening." she sighed, placing a hand on his chest. "And so boring…"

"It's about to become more interesting." he teased.

She giggled and he took that as a tacit permission to start something risqué. It wouldn't have been their first time having a quickie in a public place after all. He leaned in, his fingers curling over her hipbone, propping his other arm on the stone pillar over her head.

"And I forgot my camera at home… What a shame." someone snorted to his left. "I am certain Caesar would have loved a few pictures for his morning show."

Effie pushed him but he was already stepping back, scanning the darkness for… He spotted the red glow of a cigarette just as Viola Summercket stepped out of the porch's shadow, a cruel smirk on her orange painted lips. What was it with Eleven that night?

"Lurking in the dark…" Effie hissed, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "Why am I not surprised?"

"I could say the same about you." Viola retorted, amused when Effie was angry. Her dark eyes passed over Haymitch with open loathing. "I must say your taste in men always baffled me but, really, Euphemia… Of all the scandalous affairs you could choose from, couldn't you do better than the famous drunk?"

Haymitch lifted his eyebrows, more interested by the name than by whatever bullshit Eleven's escort was sprouting. That was the norm. She and Effie hated each other.

"He is handsy when he is drunk." she dismissed. "You saw nothing more than me pushing him away."

"Save it for Caesar." Viola laughed, mocking. She took a slow drag of her cigarette and blew it out without an apparent care in the world. "I wonder how your family will take it… Letting that oaf screw you in plain sight… Why, your mother might just disown you… But, then again… If rumors are true, she is simply looking for an excuse, isn't she?"

"Forgot how you tried to get into my pants, already?" he sneered, not liking at all the way Effie stiffened next to him. "Forgot how I turned you down?"

Sleeping with people to get jobs was in Viola's handbook. She had tried to seduce him into giving her the position of his escort and, when he had refused, she had gone over his head to the Head Gamemaker and had screwed him instead. She had only lasted a year in Twelve. He had actually threatened to kill her if she wasn't removed – and he had been half serious too.

"I am not responsible for your drunken deliriums, Haymitch." Eleven's escort dismissed with disdain. "I would not touch you if you were the last man on Earth. I have much more taste than dear Euphemia."

"You are a tramp and there is not a soul in this town who does not know that." Effie huffed.

Viola flicked ashes off her cigarette and looked her up and down before wandering back in the direction of the party. "Good luck dealing with those nasty rumors in the morning."

As soon as she was out of earshot, Effie stomped her foot. "I hate her. What a… What a…"

"Bitch?" he supplied.

"Yes." she hissed. "Oh, she will pay for this. Just you wait. I will find something that will tarnish her reputation and destroy her."

He gently pushed her back against the pillar. She was too busy glaring at her archenemy's retreating back to notice. He was mostly unconcerned. Viola and Effie's feud had been going on for as long as he could remember and rumors about Effie and him rose and fell regularly. They were used to dealing with it.

"I'm sure you will." he humored her, his lips stretching into a smirk. "Euphemia."

She groaned, her irritation switching targets fast. He had wondered what Effie was short for but the rare times he had asked she had eluded the question. He had never really insisted because he didn't really care. But he should have known it would be something awful like that.

"She calls me that to irk me." she pouted. "Do not irk me."

"You love it when I irk you." he snorted, lowering his head to nuzzle the tender skin under her jaw. "Makes you wet."

She tilted her head to the side to give him better access to her throat but she also sighed regretfully. "There is no point giving those rumors more fuel. We should wait until we are in the car."

She pushed him away firmly.

It was his turn to pout. "I want you."

"And you can have me." she promised. "In the car. When we leave."

She ducked under his arm and sauntered away, cheeky and confident like only she could be.

"You just wait. Euphemia." he called after her.

She glared at him over her shoulder.

Yeah, he decided, that was never getting old.