Chapter 2: Near the beginning

They were sat a substantial distance apart from each other when she entered the room. Neither was making eye contact or forming any kind of a bond, which Effie thought was slight bad manners on both their parts. Never mind she scolded herself, she had work to do: getting the tributes accustomed to their new fate and living conditions was one of her responsibilities. She re-introduced herself and tried not to have her spirit dampened by their sad faces and hollow cheeks. Gosh, she hated the games. It was at that moment he decided to show his face, traipsing mud and grit through the new teal carpet, only installed a week prior to the reaping, without apologizing or giving a reason for his absence. She bites her tongue and stares into his back as he stumbles into the first available seat he comes across at the dining table. He's already plastered she thinks…great.

"I was just telling our new and brave tributes about the food to expect when we arrive, Haymitch." She says, her voice a little icier than previously before his entrance. "Surely, you can't even deny how wonderful it is?" She finishes with her trademark smile in place still boring her eyes into the back of his skull. He grunts something incoherent and fidgets slightly in his seat. The corners of her mouth drop slightly. "This, as I'm sure the two of you are perfectly aware, is your mentor, Haymitch." She said gesturing a small manicured hand towards the new arrival. "He will be helping you train, work out tactics and hopefully be working with me to get you two sponsors for when you're in the arena." Their poor little faces show that any small sign of hope they may have previously had has disappeared.

…No helpful input from Haymitch whatsoever.

"Honestly, it will be absolutely fine." she says "This is bound to be District 12's year. I mean there have only been 2 victors from 12 in the history of the games and the other districts' have all had more than their fair share of victors over that time period." she nods at them, her feeble attempt at reassurance not being particularly reassuring. "Haymitch, could I have a word please in the next carriage?"

…no response.

"Haymitch!"

"Wha-"

"Next carriage!"

He can sense a telling off from me and I'm half expecting him to embarrass me in front of the children by not adhering and replying with some sarcastic comment about what I can do in the next carriage, but to my surprise he stands up and follows me through the shiny automatic door. Once inside she gets a good look at his face: unshaved bristles protruding randomly around his still mouth and lower face and his eerie grey eyes are fixed with a drunken stare.

"Listen- I've known you for what? 5 years now? It's time to stop being a lousy drunk and help these kids, Haymitch darn it!"

He looks at her in her ridiculous Capitol get-up reminding him of where she came from, not quite believing that she is having the nerve to tell him what to do when it was her people that made him like this.

" Listen, Princess, I have no doubt in my drunken mind that these two are not going to make it out of whatever stupid arena they throw at this year's lot. They're too weak and quite frankly I can't put myself through this every fucking year!"

He's so unbelievably drunk she thinks. His emotions are starting to show: anger, fear, sorrow.

"Well, it's not about you Haymitch, you've got to try! You are their chance to come up with a plan; at least let them think they have a shot at winning. Give them that! "

"Give them false hope! I don't think I'd be doing them any favors lying to them!" He closes the small gap between them feeling rage at her, at the situation, at what his life has become. "I'll at least grant them the honesty they deserve!"

She holds his gaze, his grey eyes teeming with unvented rage, and slowly salty water that she can't suppress any longer starts to fill the bottom of her eyes. "Hay-mitch I-I" she stutters lamely. She hates herself for appearing weak and hates him equally for giving up.

Dammit, he thinks. He hates seeing her get all teary. He feels bad for taking his feelings out on her, and the majority of the time it has indeed been her that he's taken them out on. He rarely has human contact apart from at the games. He'd much rather it was just him and his bottle, that way no one gets hurt and no-one looks down on him while he tries to forget.

"Effie, I'm sorry it's jus-"

"Save it!" she snaps regaining control of herself and the situation "I know you're angry and miserable but my God once a year try and help them!" she says pointing through to the other carriage "Please, Haymitch!"

Her plea and the sound of his name escaping her softened voice stirs something inside of him. He looks at her and sees her big bright eyes begging him. Why does she have to do this to him? Why can't she just leave him be? He knows the answer: because she cares too much. He'd always suspected that it wasn't just to make herself look good, that the games affected her like they did him. Well not quite the same. She hadn't been put through the ordeal herself, nor had she had the possibility of being chosen or been forced to watch dear friends leave and never return whilst seeing their remaining families try and piece their lives back together after watching their child; their sibling; their friend die on nationally viewed TV that some call entertainment. But he could see she hated this…. or maybe it was just the drink clouding his vision. Either way it decided what he said next to her.

"Fine, I'll make an effort." He growls his eyes locked on hers again" But mark my words Princess, it'll hurt twice as bad when they die." And with that he leaves her standing in the carriage that is made to look like a conservatory with its padded cushioned furniture and large leafy plants everywhere. She takes in his words. Of course she knows it's not a bloody walk in the park, she got attached to all her previous tributes and it hurt like hell to see them die on screen- the bloodier the death the worse it was. To imagine those poor kids in blinding pain was tormenting to say the least and those images will probably stay with her always. Her mask that she wears- her over the top personality is how she hides it. Haymitch may turn to drink but Effie won't find solace in a bottle, instead she'll make it through the day pretending and cry most nights during the games, letting it out in the comfort of her own room…