Chapter 6: Food For Thoughts

There were three big boxes on the kitchen table and a sewing machine so old it was probably an antique. She looked at it dubiously, noting the rust and the tainted plastic, but decided that if Haymitch thought he could fix it, he probably could.

Sorting through the clothes didn't take her that long. First because they smelt like old mothballs and it made her hold her breath, then because there wasn't much to save in there. She put aside what she would definitely not wear, thinking she could always use the fabric for… something, and was left with a few pairs of socks, a very scrapped pair of low heels ankle boots that spoke of a period with corsets and petticoats that could potentially be considered vintage with some imagination, a long red skirt that she would probably shorten and a white blouse with far too many frills at the collar that would go well with the skirt once she had worked some magic on it…

Haymitch's footsteps weren't exactly light so she was ready for him when he walked in the kitchen. But not ready enough. Damn but that man was handsome. She really wasn't one for the scruffy type usually but he made it work. The faded blue jeans stained at the knees, the grey sweater, the three-days stubble he still had to shave…

"You're ready to go?" he asked, holding out a black woolen jacket to her. "Bit cold for your wedding dress."

She hesitantly grabbed the jacket, thinking that it wouldn't be too bad paired with the scratched gleaming boots, but… Now that she saw how attractive he looked – and without any effort on his part, she was sure… "Are you quite certain you want to go out with me?"

He frowned. "Ain't really a date… You can relax. Like I said, I need stuff from town."

"No." she dismissed, waving her hand. "It is just…"

She licked her lips, suddenly very aware of how she looked. Caught in the whirlwind that were Prim and Katniss, caught in the flirting with Haymitch's and under Chaff's scrutiny, she had forgotten. There were no mirrors in the kitchen but she didn't need one. She didn't even need the faint reflection on the window's pane. She could see herself perfectly well in her mind eye: a woman in a butchered wedding dress with no make-up on and wild hair she hadn't really bothered to tame into something proper that morning.

Haymitch's frown deepened. "What's going on in that crazy brain of yours?"

"I resent being call crazy." she huffed. "I will accept unhinged. At most."

He snorted at her joke but stepped closer anyway, placing a hand on her hers to still them. She hadn't been aware she was torturing his borrowed woolen jacket. "What's up?"

"I am not exactly fit to be seen in public." she confessed with a wince. "I would not want you to be embarrassed, that is all."

His eyebrows shot up. "What do you mean?"

She pursed her lips and tilted her head a little, waving at herself. "I look terrible."

He was speechless for a second and then he laughed. It was short and a little rough, as if it wasn't something he did often, and when he was done, he shook his head and looked at her as if she really was crazy. "Well, if that's you looking terrible, I'm a bit scared of what you're gonna look like when you think you look good…"

She pursed her lips harder. "What is that supposed to mean?"

He rolled his eyes and leaned in to whisper in her ear as if it was the most important secret. "It means you're gorgeous, princess."

Her eyelids fluttered a few times and by the time she was done blinking like an idiot, he had drawn back, that irritating smirk on his lips.

"Liar." she accused.

He shrugged. "I don't lie." He looked her up and down and then averted his eyes, a shadow falling on his face. "If one of us's gonna be embarrassed, it ain't gonna be me."

He was being sincere, she realized. It was not the first time a man had called her gorgeous, of course, but it was usually either an observation or a placating off-hand compliment. The man she had left at the altar just the previous day had used that particular one as a way to remind her she wasn't supposed to talk when he was chatting business – she was supposed to be an ornament on his arm and nothing more. Haymitch sounded genuine, not just paying her a compliment to get what he wanted but…

More moved than she wanted to admit, she cleared her throat and slipped on the woolen jacket. "Let's have lunch, then."

It wasn't that easy.

The boots were old and dirty and she had to clean them – and they were not at all comfortable, she could have made do any other day but the sprain made it hard not to wince every two steps, her limp was far more noticeable and Haymitch watched her with concern all the way to the car.

She had a feeling he didn't usually bother using the car for a trip to town, too, that it was a concession to her.

"Maybe we should look into getting you crutches…" he suggested.

"I will be fine." she promised through clenched teeth, securing her seat belt. "What we truly need to buy is underwear."

She said it in a off-hand way but he froze just as he was about to start the engine, his grey eyes darting to her lap. He didn't ask. He didn't ask but she could practically hear the wheels and cogs turning in his brain and she leaned back on her seat with a very smug grin. He was close to grinning too when he finally started the car.

Men.

"I will pay you back naturally." she added after a moment.

"Never mind that." He darted a glance at her, his lips still stretched. "I'm always happy to buy a pretty woman some underwear."

She had to suppress the urge to snort. "And does that happen often?"

He took a second longer than necessary to answer the question, wavering between joking it off and answering honestly, she wagered.

"Not that much in the last few years, no." he eventually mumbled, the tip of his ears turning red.

They had reached the gate and he hurried out of the car to open it. She slid into the driver seat before he could dash back to move the car. No sense in him coming back inside the car only to get back out to close the gate. It wasn't the sort of cars she was used to driving. She was more into sport cars with sleek elegant lines than compact SUV but she managed. Once he had closed the gate, she slid back onto the passenger seat.

It was clear he had hoped that topic would be dropped but she found it amusing to see how flushed she could make him.

"Regarding those women…" she hummed. "In terms of numbers… Are we more in the single digit column or the double digits column?"

He almost choked and then glared at her. "You're making fun of me."

She laughed. "Think of it as payback for the vacuum cleaner, darling."

"Don't pet name me." he grumbled.

"Oh, is that your prerogative?" she teased.

He took a deep breath and kept his eyes on the road.

"For the record…" he said slowly, a warning in his voice. "You being a smart ass ain't helping me keep my hands off you."

"Duly noted." she commented, deliberately crossing her legs. Predictably his gaze darted there, lingered, and then went back to the road.

They were silent for a moment.

"There hasn't been a woman in a while." he hesitated. "With the girls…" He shrugged. "I don't like leaving them to go to a bar, it's… I don't know. And being out at a bar is a problem in itself so… I don't make a habit of picking up runaway brides on the side of the road and ask them to stay if that's your question."

Her grin softened into a smile. "It wasn't but I appreciate that." It was her turn to be silent. He wasn't being particularly inquisitive and she had the feeling he would have been happy to leave that conversation at that but… Honesty called for honesty, didn't it? And… As crazy as this whole thing was, she wanted it to work. She wasn't sure yet that what was between them would turn out into a love story or just a very satisfying affair – although she was determined to shield the girls from any potential fallout – but she wanted to do it right. "I slept with him. My fiancé. It was expected."

He glanced at her but his face remained schooled into a blank expression. "I ain't asking."

"I know." She turned her head, watched the landscape through the window. It was a ten minutes drive to the town and it wasn't long before the dust roads turned into cobbled streets. "I didn't like it but I went along with it anyway."

"Effie…" She could hear the wince in his voice, the awkwardness too. "If you want me to fuck off… Just tell me to, yeah?"

"What?" She frowned and looked back at him. "No, I was not… Would you mind your language?" She studied him for a moment and then shook her head. "I enjoy the flirting and I would most likely enjoy… more. I just wanted to be honest."

"Okay…" He maneuvered the car in a parking spot, his attention all to the rearview mirror… "But I mean it. You want me to fuck off, you just say so. No question asked. You don't go along with anything you don't like just to make me or the kids happy." He turned the engine off and angled his body toward her. "Deal?"

She studied him attentively and then licked her lips. "If you weren't an obvious slob with a potty mouth I would tend to believe you are perfect."

He snorted, his eyes distant again. "I'm really not."

They exited the car and she followed him down the street, trying not to be too obvious with the limping. She was aware he slowed down his pace so she could keep up. She was also aware everyone out and about on that street was staring at them.

Haymitch's face was closed off and his jaw was clenched.

"Are you a local celebrity or something?" she asked pointedly when the staring didn't politely move on to other subjects of interest.

"Just the local crazy vet who came back to adopt two kids. Also one of the few single men in town." he muttered. "I'm juicy gossip on a good day. Their favorite is that the girls are biologically mine. Ain't sure how I'm supposed to have fathered them from the other end of the planet but… That's small town gossip for you."

She locked her arm around his elbow with a grin and when he startled she wriggled her eyebrows. "Let's give them something to talk about, then."

For a second she thought she had gone too far but then he snorted and slid his arm out from under hers to wrap it around her shoulders, bringing her into his side. It was a little more intimate than what she had had in mind but he was warm and the cold wind was terrible on the bare skin of her legs so she didn't move away.

The only restaurant in town wasn't that far from where he had parked the car and it wasn't that full either. Greasy Sae's the sign proudly announced. A little bell rang when Haymitch pushed the door and Effiefelt all the eyes in the place turn toward them. It lasted a handful of seconds, then the whispering started.

She kept her head high, pretended not to have noticed, but conducted her own visual inspection in the meantime. The place was full of people on their lunch break, most of them were already at dessert. It wasn't a five stars restaurant – hell, it wasn't probably even a one star restaurant – but it was clean and nicely decorated – in a rustic way that made it charming to her outsider's eyes.

"Ah… Bringing me the new wife, boy?"

The old woman who had waved back to her the previous day walked out of what clearly was the kitchens. Haymitch rolled his eyes but also bent down to briefly hug her.

"You know I didn't get married, Sae." he scowled.

"I know you came back from the city yesterday with a pretty girl in a wedding dress in your car." the woman countered, hands on her hips. "Can't blame people for jumping to conclusions. Did you order her online? I heard you could do that now."

Haymitch almost choked in indignation.

Effie remained unfazed by the rudeness of that woman who was talking about her in those terms right in front of her. It was not the worst she had ever seen in her life despite how impolite it was.

"Actually, he found me in the street." she replied.

The old woman's eyebrows shot up as she considered her. "Well… Everyone's got to make a living…"

When she realized how that sounded, she blushed. "Not like that. I meant…"

"She means she's a friend who's gonna stay with us for a while." Haymitch cut her off. "She's gonna help out with the girls."

"Oh, so you're not on your way to the city hall to get married?" Sae mocked. "Couldn't tell what with the new wedding dress…"

Effie pursed her lips, refusing to be turned into a subject of amusement. "Fashion. But I would not expect you to understand."

Haymitch didn't like that, she could tell, not the gibe nor the holier-than-thou attitude, but Sae laughed.

"She's got a backbone. I like her." the old woman declared, patting Haymitch's arm. She flashed Effie a smile that was missing a couple of teeth and outstretched a hand. "I'm Sae. I've known that one since he was in diapers so if you want embarrassing stories, you know who to come to."

Haymitch rolled his eyes. "She doesn't."

Behind him, Effie mouthed "I do." making Sae laugh some more.

"Get your girl a table, boy." the old woman ordered, walking back to her kitchen.

Haymitch shook his head, bent over the check-out counter to grab two menus and then steered Effie toward the back of the restaurant with a hand at the small of her back. At her surprised look, he shrugged. "Worked here when I was a kid."

That actually made sense.

The table he chose was far enough back that people eventually stopped looking at them, which Effie was glad about given her lack of make-up and the not quite finished dress on her back.

Haymitch didn't even glance at his menu – she suspected the menu hadn't changed since he had worked there – but Effie looked over hers twice, desperate to find something that wasn't fried. She was starting to understand why it was called Greasy Sae, grease seemed to be a key element of her cooking.

She was aware Haymitch was studying her over the edge of her menu but didn't pay him any mind as she looked over the selections again.

"You're a picky eater." he accused with some disappointment.

"I am not." she lied. "I am just trying to find something that won't be bathed in grease."

"It's not that bad." He was glaring a little and she wondered if she was insulting him by questioning his dubious choice of restaurant – not that there was any choice given that it was the only restaurant in town.

"I did not say it was." she retorted defensively.

He looked ill-at-ease and a little grumpy all at once. He sneered. "Well, it's not canard à l'orange."

He butchered the pronunciation but she didn't think it wise to remark on it right then.

"You have been nothing but kind to me. When you are not being insufferable, that is." she huffed. "I do not nor did I ever expect you to feed me canard à l'orange." She stressed the wrong vowel with some irony like he had before closing the menu a little too quickly. "And I am not criticizing your friend's restaurant, I am simply used to a particular sort of food and I am wary that this amount of fried aliments will upset my stomach. My apologies. This being said I will try the Caesar salad."

It seemed like a safe choice.

She hoped.

She glared at her empty glass of water all the time it took the waitress to notice them. And when she did notice them, Haymitch spent ten minutes chit-chatting about the weather and their respective kids before ordering instead of introducing her. What was worse: the woman was clearly interested in him. She kept tilting her head and smiling when it was his turn to talk, she fiddled with her hair far too much and she touched his shoulder when she left with a promise to be right back with their order.

Effie was starting to reconsider her choices. In the dull light of this small restaurant, choosing to stay didn't look insane, it looked stupid. You just didn't decide to settle down with a stranger who had two small children and expect… Expect what? He had promised nothing to her. He had offered her a roof if she helped out with the girls, that was it. As far as the attraction between them went, he had said they should see where it led, he hadn't said he wanted to be serious about it.

Did she want him to be serious about it? She didn't have the best track record at serious relationships.

But she didn't want him to be a player, that much she knew.

The silence was uncomfortable and, if it had been a first date, Effie was certain it was the point where she would have stood up with a half-cooked excuse about a sudden emergency.

What could she invent right then though? And where could she go?

No, no, no… It wouldn't do to fall in the same traps. She hadn't wanted to be a trophy wife… She didn't want to stay in that town just because she didn't have the means to leave. It wasn't fair. Not to her, not to the children and probably not even to him.

She took a deep breath and looked up, intending to tell him it was all a mistake. She hadn't expected him to be watching her with a boyish pout. When he caught her watching, he winced.

"Look…" he hesitated.

She wasn't certain what she was supposed to look at because his sentence trailed off into silence again.

"You are sensitive about food." she remarked.

He winced harder. "I know what it's like to go hungry, that's all."

"I don't." she replied, point blank. She sympathized, she did. It was awful. And it was even more awful that sweet Katniss knew hunger too. But… "Should I feel guilty for that? Ashamed?"

"No." he scowled. "That ain't what I said. You're twisting my words."

"Am I?" she challenged and then shook her head. "Because I might have been wealthy, Haymitch, but it does not mean I was happy. And look at me now. I am poorer than poor."

She stood up and crossed the room quickly, aware that the few customers left in the restaurant watched her storm out. She tried not to make it obvious she was upset but between the limp and those stupid boots that hurt every step she took, it was complicated.

She felt stupid.

Trouble in paradise already? What did you think? Will he ever get to buy her underwear or is she going to run (limp) away? Let me know!