"So, what are we talking about, here?"

They were the first words that had been said in several minutes. The stylist, perhaps realizing he'd crossed a line, had retired to a far corner of the room and was waiting, shoulders tense, for the mentor to say something. And when he did, Haymitch noticed that Cinna's breath came whooshing out of him, as if he'd been holding it longer than the time the two of them had been standing there.

It wasn't a "no."

And it wasn't a call for the Peacekeepers.

"Not much," Cinna offered. "Visit sponsors. Talk up your tributes. Train your tributes, for that matter. Give them the best shot possible at getting out of the ring alive."

"Why District 12?"

"What?"

"You said you'd asked to be assigned to District 12. Why not 11? or 8? Eight's always spoiling for a fight."

"That's the point - no one expects a victor from 12. If one of your kids wins, it's unprecedented; if they don't...well, Portia and I are secure enough in our abilities that we knew we could make the Capitol pay attention. Care about the tributes of District 12. Even grieve when they're killed."

"In other words, you want me to extend their suffering to make them martyrs."

"There's no easy death in the arena, Haymitch. You know that."

Haymitch nodded, trying his best to stave off the memories of hundreds of kids' final moments. Some deaths were faster than others, but none of them were good - and none of them were easy, either.

"But there's another reason, now. I'd have pulled strings to get myself reassigned here if I hadn't already made that choice."

"Which is?"

"Your tribute - Katniss. You've been calling her number 46, but I think it's time to learn her name."

"You really think the girl can win?" Despite himself, Haymitch began to feel the rumblings of what he could only term as excitement in his stomach. There was something about that girl. She was stubborn, abrasive, independent - characteristics she shared with most of the victors, actually. Maybe...

"Probably not," Cinna admitted, and Haymitch felt his shoulders slump. "but-"

"-She's underfed, untrained, and probably has minimal if any survival skills at all," Haymitch said wearily. "In other words, the same problem we always have."

"...But she's a fighter," Cinna continued, as if he hadn't been interrupted. "And we can't count that out. If she's committed to fighting, her odds are automatically better than anyone who's just going to sit around and wait for one of the other tributes to find them. And this girl, Haymitch...she's all fight."

Haymitch snorted. "We both agree on that."

Cinna continued: "She fought the Capitol when she refused to let them take her sister. She and Peeta fought for your attention on the train," and Cinna smiled at a sudden memory. "Plus, she's working some kind of magic on the boy. There was a point right after the parade where she kissed him on the cheek and you could have lit the room with Peeta's face."

"Think the kid has feelings for her?"

Cinna nodded. "Wouldn't put it past him. Wouldn't blame him, either - based on what I've seen of District 12 in the past, Katniss Everdeen probably stands out."

Haymitch shrugged, uncomfortable with the realization that it was probably true, and he still wouldn't have remembered the girl if he tried.

"But that's besides the point - the point is that Katniss kissed him. And she wasn't doing it to show affection. She's already fighting with every tool she has. If we can get her into the final eight...heck, if we can get her past the first day, even, she's going to be a beacon of hope for the underdogs out there."

Haymitch wondered whether the stylist had found a way to have the same conversation with Chaff - the words resonated with those the District 11 mentor had said in the bar earlier that night. And again, Haymitch found himself repeating his perspective on things.

"A little hope is a dangerous thing, Cinna," he said.

And Cinna smiled.

"Yes," he pointed out, "but so is fire. Haymitch - what have you got to lose?"

A hundred answers rushed to the front of the mentor's mind - his family, his friends, his home, his life - only to realize that the Capital had already destroyed each of those already. Refusing to play the game hadn't prevented any of that. If he were to be completely honest, his refusal to play by the rules had probably resulted in the death of his immediate family's.

So maybe, it was time to try beating the gamemakers on their own turf.

Cinna saw the decision settle into Haymitch's face, and a wide smile broke out on his own. He grasped the mentor's hand and shook it heartily.

"Welcome to the District Twelve team, Haymitch," he said.

His clear head, combined with the faint poundings of a near-hangover, made Haymitch realize that while he might not have remembered the first time he saw the girl on fire, he would always remember the moment when he decided not to write her off entirely.