Prompt: I loved the first part of your Christmas story! Can I give a prompt loosely based on your idea about people using Effie like a doll? Could you do something during games time where Effie has been dating someone that she quite liked and might have actually been falling for and she finds out they'd just been using her for her fame? Maybe you can put a hayffie twist on it? :) thank you!

Jolis

She keeps the smile on her lips as she makes her way around the club that's been privatized for the occasion.

The mask is easy to slip on despite the pain.

She doesn't know if her feelings are hurt or if it's her pride that's the real victim here. She should know better really, she thinks, nodding at some sponsors and waving back at the friends who call her from afar. She pretends she cannot hear over the loud music.

It's easier than explaining.

Easier than…

She's been stupid.

It comes down to that, in the end. She's been stupid and, truly, her mother will have a blast if she ever catches wind of it.

The club is crowded and it takes her a while to navigates around the clutter of people she wants to avoid. She doesn't know where Jolis is now, if he came back inside or if he is still smoking outside with that other woman. Some idiot, she's been.

Jolis is charming and she wanted to be charmed. He is younger than her when she usually favors older men but his attention flattered her vanity. He's poor too. A modest stylist who struggles to get recognition. It should have alerted her, really.

But he's never asked for anything.

It's her who insisted on introducing him to influent people. It's her who showed his designs to some stylist friends of hers. It's her who wore his dresses and gave him visibility. It's her who made sure he would have entries to every select place in the city. It's her who wanted to help him get the glory he deserves.

Or so she thought.

Stupid.

She went outside to search for him because she was bored. Bored with trying to convince sponsors to give money to a lost cause, bored of glaring at Haymitch from the other side of the club, bored with the inane conversations when all she wanted to do was go back to her apartment and tumble in bed with Jolis…

She doesn't think he saw her. He was too busy making doe eyes at the low class barmaid from whom he had stolen a cigarette, too busy telling her all about how he was only going out with Effie for the connections and how the woman – with her cheap pink dyed hair, her atrocious yellow lipstick, her fake plastic jewelry and her too big nose – was a hundred times more interested than Twelve's escort.

'She's a golden goose. She's so hot for me, she gives me everything I want.'

She's been falling for him.

That's the hardest to swallow, perhaps.

Being manipulated…

Her pride will recover from it. She will learn and grow from it.

Ever since she's been assigned to Twelve five years ago, Haymitch has made it his mission to scoff and mock her about how naïve she is. He must have a point. And she will never let herself be caught in this position again. Ever.

But she's been falling for him and it hurts.

It hurts a lot.

He's not the first, of course. There's been people who seduced her for her position before, to get their fifteen minutes of fame, for the chance to appear on a red carpet somewhere in hope of being discovered for what meager talent they have… Singing, modeling, designing clothes… It doesn't matter really. If they're handsome enough, she lets herself be swayed for a night. It never goes further than that.

And that's the thing, isn't it?

She's the manipulator, the puppet master…

She takes her conquests and she tosses them away as she pleases. Because she's famous. Because she's beautiful. Because she has the power.

She favors older influent men and she enjoys the advantages.

Nobody is really fooled by the love declarations and nobody gets hurt.

Jolis crossed line when he whispered those words in her ear, in the bared curve of her neck…

Her eyes burn when she finally catches sight of her victor and she almost falters when she catches sight of the man who is never far away from him. They're sitting at the bar, almost hidden behind the various groups of people trying to get the bartender's attention. She licks her lips, juts her chin higher and makes sure her smile is bright and unwavering.

Heads turn on her wake.

It goes a long way into making her feel a bit better.

She's gorgeous. She knows that.

The green dress in short and hugs her curves. Her dark purple wig cut into a bob gives her an impish look. More than half the club would have begged her for a chance.

She doesn't need Jolis and his stupid charm.

She doesn't need anyone.

She's Effie Trinket and she's one of the most famous people in Panem.

Chaff catches sight of her first and nudges his friend. It seems they've been talking but she doesn't know how they manage to hear each other over the loud music. Who talks in a club? Unrefined beasts.

Haymitch glances at her and knocks his glass down. She watches him as she confidently struts closer, watches as he catches the bartender's eyes and lifts a finger to silently request a refill.

"You drank enough." she declares as she reaches him. She deliberately ignores Chaff. As loathe as she is to be rude, she isn't in any mood to deal with gibes or his wandering hand. "We won't find any sponsor tonight. Let's go back to the penthouse. I will call the car."

Haymitch, of course, never makes anything easy for her.

He scowls. "Look at that. My soon to be gone escort."

Chaff chuckles. "What's that I hear, love? You're leaving us?"

She clenches her jaw, her smile fading a little. She forgot about that. They had an argument on the way over – like they always do. The fight got heated. He insulted her one too many times. She was so angry she told him he wouldn't have to bear her presence much longer. She told him she wouldn't be his escort for long.

She's ashamed to realize she was entertaining stupid thoughts about possible weddings and opening a designer house that would bear her and Jolis' names. Stupid ridiculous dreams.

"I never said anything of the sort." she lies swiftly. "I do not know how you can bear to live like this, Haymitch. You are so drunk you are imagining entire conversations."

He spares her an incredulous look and then snorts. "Sure. I've made it all up. Just like you being an incompetent idiot who forgot to sign the papers yesterday." He takes a sip of his newly refilled glass, thanking the bartender with a distracted nod. "You're bloody useless when you're lovesick."

"Ah, yeah, I heard about that too…" Chaff comments, apparently finding the whole thing hilarious. "Bit young for you, no? Not your usual brand."

They're talking too loud because of the music and she glances around to make sure nobody is listening. That's how she sees Jolis making his way toward her with a sweet smile she now knows better than to trust.

She always should have known better.

"Haymitch, please, let's go." she insists, abandoning all hope of keeping up a pretence. She doesn't want to deal with Jolis right now. She doesn't want to be forced to pretend everything is alright to avoid a scandal. She doesn't even want to have to clarify that everything is over. She doesn't want to fight. She wants to go back to the penthouse where she can get some privacy to cry it out like the idiot she is.

Something in her voice must have alerted Haymitch because he studies her and frowns a little. "What's wrong?"

"I just want to leave." she begs. "Please, take me back to the penthouse. Now."

There is such an urgency in her voice that even Chaff picks up on it. Eleven's victor's eyes stray somewhere behind her and he lifts his eyebrows. "Trouble in paradise, love?"

Haymitch's gaze darts between her and Jolis, who is coming closer, and his frown deepens. "Thought you were madly in love with your boyfriend?"

She licks her lips and shuffles her weight on her feet, nervous like she hardly ever is. "He is not my boyfriend anymore."

"Looks cheerful for someone who got dumped." Chaff comments over the rim of his glass.

"He does not know and I would rather not do that in public." she hisses, glaring at Eleven's victor.

Haymitch's fingers close on her wrist, bringing her attention back to him. "Messed with you or some shit?"

His eyes aren't annoyed anymore when they roam over her from head to high heels, they're assessing. She doesn't know what he's expecting. No man who ever physically lifts a hand against her will walk. She will never let that happen.

But you never thought you would let yourself be manipulated either, did you?, a little voice reminds her at the back of her head.

"I caught him with a woman but he didn't see me." she admits through clenched teeth.

It's humiliating enough that he might accept to help her, even if that means making fun of her for years to come. It is better than the real reason. Men cheat. She could forgive that. But playing with her… That, she will never forgive. And it is mortifying enough that she will take that secret with her to her grave.

Haymitch's face hardens and he stands up, less steady on her feet than she would have liked but not drunk enough for his balance to be entirely compromised. "Want me to punch him for you?"

The offer is surprising.

Chaff chortles in his glass but she finds herself genuinely smiling in answer. She shouldn't be as pleased as she is.

"I can do my own punching, thank you very much." she answers petulantly, before amending… "Well, I can slap." Jolis is struggling against the crowd next to the bar now, almost within reach and she's desperate. "Please, I just want to leave."

The good thing with someone as imposing as Haymitch is that crowds tend to part in front of him. They're at the main door in no time at all.

She fumbles with her clutch as they wait for their car in front of the club, annoyed to find she has no cigarettes on her. Of course not. She quitted. Because Jolis claimed he didn't smoke. A lie, too. Or maybe he only smokes when he wants to sleep with smokers.

Haymitch is irritated but she can't tell if it's because of her. He's always irritated with something and it's difficult to keep tracks.

"You're sure you don't want me to punch him?" he grumbles when the slick black car slides in front of them.

She doesn't wait for the driver to open the door for her, she immediately climbs in, only breathing in relief once she's safe inside. It's a temporary sort of safety, naturally. She will have to deal with Jolis the next day.

He will never know that she overheard him.

She will get out of this with her pride intact.

A few words here and there should undo any connection she gave him.

As for him…

Why, she will just tell him she found a better lover. She will need someone famous and handsome and it would need to be a public affair – false one or not. Maybe Seneca will be willing to help her out once she explains. They have always been good at being each other's pretend date when needed.

"Thank you. It is not necessary." she replies tiredly. "I will handle it. Tomorrow."

Tomorrow, she will feel better.

Less… Heartbroken.

"He's an asshole." Haymitch mutters, keeping his head turned away from her, his gaze looking through the window. "Cheaters. All assholes."

All men cheat at some point, she almost counters but she swallows it back in the end. Perhaps it's different in the Districts. Perhaps it is less about smoke and mirrors. Perhaps love isn't a game.

She's vexed because she's usually better at it.

"Do you want me?" she asks, blunt.

They always tend to be blunt with each other. Truth hurts, after all. And they take perverse pleasure in hurting each other.

He still doesn't look at her, his fingers drum on the edge of the seat.

"It is frankly insulting you have to ponder the question." she scoffs.

It wouldn't have been the first time it happened after all.

Six times in five years.

Accidents, as they like to call it. Something that will never happen again.

A lie.

She likes the way he makes her feel a little too much.

It's not always good. He doesn't care much about her pleasure and if she doesn't snatch it, he won't go out of his way to give it. But when it is good, it's worth it. Dirty and rough and wrong.

"I'm pondering why you're asking." he counters with a hint of taunting.

That's a lie too.

It's plain to see why she asked him.

She's a woman scorned and she wants revenge.

And, maybe, she also wants to feel good.

She wants something real.

Even if it's hate sex.

It's not the real problem. The real problem is that it's one thing to end up tumbling on a bed or against a wall in the middle of a fight and it's completely another to consciously take that step. It's not much of an accident, then. It's… purposeful.

It's crossing a line.

"Suit yourself." she huffs and proceeds to ignore him.

He hates it when she ignores him.

He needs an excuse and she will give him one.

He will start an argument before they reach the Center's elevator, she's sure of it.

And she will have her hand in his pants before they reach the penthouse.