2-Effie begs Haymitch to attend a sponsors meeting. He blows her off not realizing the sponsor is sadistic. And she needed him there to keep him from hurting her.
Patterns
Effie rarely entered the penthouse's kitchen – or any kitchen for that matter, including her own – so she wasn't surprised to see the two relaxing Avoxes jump to their feet with flashes of fear on their faces. Certainly they were supposed be working somewhere but she couldn't begrudge the right to have some quiet tea time as long as their other tasks were complete.
They stood there, waiting for her orders, and she waved them off, unwilling to deal with anything right now. She didn't want to see people. She wanted some quiet tea time of her own. Preferably somewhere nobody would think to track her down – hence her presence in the kitchen.
Once the two Avoxes had made themselves scarce, she investigated the still steaming tea pot on the counter, sniffing the content warily – who knew what Avoxes liked? – when she couldn't smell anything but plain black tea, she rummaged around the cupboards until she found a cup to pour herself some. It wasn't one of the delicate china cups from the living-room, the mug was big and white without any flourish, but she couldn't find anything prettier.
She sat down at the table that was half covered with what she supposed to be dinner preparations and stared at the dark liquid in her cup. She usually liked it better with a dash of milk or at least some lemon. She also usually preferred some strawberry tea or Haymitch's herbal brand but beggars couldn't be choosers and she didn't want to have to search the whole kitchen.
She just needed some quiet time, she told herself, then she would find Seneca and explain and perhaps, perhaps, she wouldn't end up fired that night.
Her cheek was throbbing and she realized belatedly that she should have started by putting some ice on it.
She had handled the whole thing terribly wrong.
All her choices since that morning had been terrible…
She crossed her legs, felt the silk of her slightly torn dress slid down the side of her thigh and sighed. That dress had been a masterpiece and now it was good for the bin. Should she change before going straight to Seneca's office or, on the contrary, play the distressed card? She doubted Seneca would care one way or another but it might sway unexpected witnesses. It just might.
She just needed some quiet alone time so obviously she wasn't surprised to hear Haymitch's dragging feet coming closer to the room they so rarely entered. She didn't bother looking up at him. She could smell him from where she sat.
"Here you are." he mumbled, his speech slurred enough that she determined he was well on his way to wasted. "The fuck you did to the Avoxes? They're all… nervous."
Theword Avoxes should never be uttered by drunk people. It was too complicated a word.
"I see you had a nice afternoon." she hissed.
"Chaff bought me a drink." he replied defensively, shuffling his feet toward one of the cabinets. She rethought her conclusion that, like her, he never used the room. He certainly seemed to know where the cookies were hidden.
"You would not have forgotten anything by any chance, would you?" she remarked.
He studied the cookies package in his hand for a long moment and then thrust it in her direction with a small frown as if she was seriously berating him for not sharing food.
She pursed her lips and glared at her tea, refusing to even look at him again.
After a few seconds, he must have realized she didn't want any sweets because he fished a cookie from the package and started munching on it. "What got your panties in a twist now?"
Twist was also a difficult word for a drunk man.
"You were supposed to join me for drinks with a sponsor at the Grand Capitol." she spat. "Do you remember anything about that?"
He frowned deeper and slowly – almost carefully – came closer to the table. "Oops?"
"Right." she deadpanned with more venom than she cared to contain. "Oops."
He rolled his eyes. "So what? You had drinks with a sponsor, I didn't show… You didn't get money. What's the big deal? Had fun showing off over there, right? Queen of bees, you are."
He chuckled as if this was all a good joke and she finally turned her head to look at him. His amusement died down in a fit of coughing, the cookies crashed on the floor and one of his hands immediately flew to her face.
She flinched and recoiled, not trusting his coordination at all.
He froze, eyes wide. "Sweetheart… The fuck happened?"
"Alaster Boyde had me alone at the Capitol's most prestigious hotel. What do you think happened?" she snapped. "The moment it became clear you were not coming, he insisted on renting a private room for the meeting."
When he reached for her face this time, she let him. He clumsily cupped her good cheek and gently probed at her throbbing one with his fingers.
"You never said it was Boyde." he argued.
She wondered if the sight of the no-doubt ugly bruise on her face had sobered him up. He certainly sounded less drunk.
"You never asked. You were supposed to be there. You promised me you would be there." she retorted.
"Boyde's supposed to be blacklisted." he insisted.
"He is." She had put a black star next to his name on her sponsor files. "However he requested a meeting and I could not refuse without raising certain flags. It was supposed to be a simple meet and greet. We would have been there and gone in fifteen minutes if you had bothered to…"
She hissed when he pressed a little too hard on her cheek and she batted his hand away.
"Did he touch you?" he growled.
She wondered what he would do if she said yes. Drunk as he was, probably something entirely stupid like rush over to the sponsor and beat him down to a pulp.
"He certainly tried." she snorted. Then, she sighed, pushed her untouched mug of tea away and buried her face in her hands. "I should have let him."
"Never." Haymitch spat. "That guy's sadistic."
She heard him move around but she didn't look up. "Perhaps but now I am in so much trouble… I kneed him, Haymitch. I scratched his face so badly it will be a miracle if he does not need plastic surgery and I kneed him. A sponsor. I will get fired. At the very least."
Big hands guided hers away from her face and, next thing she knew, a bag of frozen peas was pressed against her throbbing cheek. She couldn't help a hiss.
"Should have been there." he winced.
"Yes. You should have." she retorted mercilessly. "I asked you for one thing today. One. And you promised."
"I know. It's just Chaff…" he started.
She cut him off with a wave of her hand and a huff, uninterested by his excuses. They were always the same, alcohol was always somehow involved and Chaff's influence was often a given.
"You're sure he didn't hurt you?" he asked, slowly crouching next to her chair like a repentant puppy. His hand ended up on her thigh, his eyes took in the torn dress… "You can tell me, Princess…"
" I should have just slept with him." she lamented.
It might not have been the best time of her life but she could have made sure it was short, at least. Sex was just sex. What would the big deal have been? The man certainly held no charm for her but… She might even have gotten some money out of the ordeal. It would not have been so bad. She should never have acted so harshly.
She blamed Haymitch's influence.
A few years earlier, she would not even have batted an eyelash. She would have let that man take what he wanted and gotten twice as much in the process. She would have robbed him blind.
"It certainly would have made my life easier."
Both she and Haymitch startled. Haymitch jumped to his feet and stood in front of her chair in a ridiculously protective stance that came hours too late. She twisted and strained her neck to look at Seneca who looked dashing in his lavender suit, star-shaped holes in his blue beard. The Head Gamemaker stood there casually, hands deep in his pockets, the perfect picture of a Capitol dandy, nonchalance on every of his features. If she hadn't known him that well, she would have missed the spark of concern in his brown eyes.
Haymitch certainly did. "Go fuck yourself. You ain't firing her cause she…"
"Language, Haymitch." she cut him off. "Please go amuse yourself with your friends. I can handle this on my own."
"I'm staying." he stubbornly insisted. "You're my escort. I ain't letting them…"
"You remember that a little too late." she interrupted him again. She placed the bag of frozen peas down on the table and stood up to face Seneca who had so far remained silent. He was watching her but she knew he was keeping track of what Haymitch was doing. Victors were notoriously volative creatures and Haymitch wouldn't have been the first one who would try to attack a Gamemaker. "Seneca, how lovely to see you."
"You are a hard woman to find today, Effie." he replied in the same polite tone. Then he broke his detached act and reached for her cheek far more delicately than Haymitch had, brushing the tip of his fingers against the abused skin. "You need to go to the Clinic."
"I am fine." she dismissed, forcing a small smile. "I assume you know the whole story by now."
"Alaster did not have the foresight to remain silent. Half the city knows the whole story." he answered.
She briefly closed her eyes, dread and nerves making her stomach cramp. Gamemakers didn't like their escorts to be splashed by that sort of scandals.
"It was my fault." Haymitch cut in, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You can't punish her. Was supposed to be there. My fault."
Seneca's gaze traveled to him, remained there for a second and then came back to her. He wisely chose to ignore her victor. "I had a talk with President Snow."
"I see." Effie tried to keep her voice even but it came out strangled all the same. "I suppose Alaster is accusing me of assault."
"Alaster will not make any accusation of any kind any time soon." Seneca told her, grabbing her hand. "I reminded President Snow that this was not the first incident of the sort involving him and that for such a minor sponsor he certainly takes a lot of unsanctioned liberties with escorts and victors alike. Fortunately for you, President Snow agreed with me. I would not be surprised if Alaster did something foolish."
Like commit suicide. That was a common enough affliction for people who displeased President Snow.
She could taste bile at the back of her mouth. Alaster was a pig but did he deserve to die? Because she had refused him?
But it could have been her. It would have been easy. A letter saying she regretted her mad attack on a sponsor, a few sleeping pills… It could have been her.
"Thank you." she forced herself to say, squeezing Seneca's hand. Haymitch's fingers had tightened their grip on her shoulder but she ignored him.
The Head Gamemaker's face softened. "Go to the Games Clinic, darling. That bruise looks bad, at least make sure nothing is broken." His gaze turned to Haymitch, hard once more. "Miss Trinket's talents would be more appreciated in another District, the only reason she is still on Twelve's team is because it is generally felt amongst the Gamemakers that you need her skills more than other Districts do. Do take better care of the gifts you are given, Mr Abernathy." He leaned in and pecked the air next to her good cheek. "I'll pick you up to go to the party tonight. Eight sharp."
It wasn't a suggestion, she knew. She needed to make an apparition, give her own version of the story, make herself the victim… Perhaps keep the bruise on display. With Seneca as her date, she was guaranteed attention and sympathy. If the Head Gamemaker was willing to support her… It was as good as saying President Snow himself did.
"Asshole." Haymitch muttered as soon as Seneca was gone.
She shrugged his hand off and left the kitchen and her untouched tea behind, storming down the corridor and to her room. Haymitch followed, of course, because he couldn't take a hint.
"Can you stop bitching?" he grumbled, lengthening his stride so he could catch up. "Wanna take another look at your cheek…"
"That won't be necessary." she said curtly.
She walked inside her bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her. A second later, it opened again and Haymitch came in, looking pissed. "Effie…"
"I could have been in a lot of troubles because you never bothered to show up." she snapped. "I always have your back but you only have mine when it suits you. I am tired, annoyed and in pain so, please, leave me alone. Go get wasted somewhere, I do not need you tonight, I have some damage control to do."
"What, with Crane?" he scowled.
"Yes." she snapped, unzipping her dress and kicking it in a corner. "With Seneca, who, unlike you, helped me and protected me today."
She struggled with the lacing of her corset at her back, too annoyed to do it properly. When she felt his warm hands replacing hers, she let go. He was clumsy unlacing her corset but she let him because it was easier.
"I'm sorry." he whispered once the corset was hanging open on either side of her back.
He ran his knuckles down the line of her spine in an unusually gentle caress. She shivered, not a bad shiver either even if she didn't want to go there that night.
"I know you are." she granted, her voice still hard. "But it does not change what happened. Please, leave me alone."
They would patch things up in time. She would stop feeling angry over his lack of reliability and he would be on his best behavior for a few days to earn her forgiveness, not because he really cared but because she would forbid him to get into her bed until he did.
It was a pattern. A bad one.
"The clown ain't wrong." he sighed. "You should have your cheek checked out. I think the bone's broken." He pressed a fleeting kiss at the base of her nape when she didn't acknowledge that or turn around. She listened to his footsteps retreating to the doorstep, tensed when he paused there. "If he had done anything to you, I'd have killed him."
The words were slurred, a drunken oath rather that a real statement, but she thought he was serious under the liquor clouding his judgment. She wasn't sure it wasn't even scarier.
Some days, days like that one, she thought she was crazy for keeping on trying to understand him.