It's not like Effie had deliberately set out to make an enemy of Haymitch when she'd moved into the unit below him three years ago. Quite the opposite in fact. She'd gone out of her way to be friendly to him.

She'd taken a basket of homemade muffins to his door, even though technically, as a new resident she should have been the one with a welcoming committee. She'd never gotten the basket back.

She'd waved and said hello and asked how he was every time she'd passed him on the driveway. She'd never gotten more than a grunt in response.

She'd signed for a package for him, even though the mailman had been adamant that he usually just left them on the porch. She'd pinned a handwritten note to his door explaining, and even though she'd heard him return home later that night, the package was still in her living room three days later. In the end, she'd left it on her porch, and when she'd opened the door a couple of hours later, it was gone.

The final straw had been when she'd returned home from the office Christmas party two years ago and found him drunk and slumped on her welcome mat. She'd got down on her knees, wrapped her arms around him and helped him to his feet, before dragging him around to his entranceway. She'd managed to locate his keys and unlock his door, after some seriously awkward digging around in the pockets of his pants. After dragging him up his stairway and making sure he was safely situated on his couch, she'd expected at least a thank you.

Instead, he'd placed his hands on her hips as he looked her up and down, told her she should feel him up more often (a reference to the keys, she assumes) and proceeded to throw up.

All over her 300 dollar shoes.

Strangely enough, that little episode had taken away any of Effie's desire to be neighbourly towards him..

But as soon as she had resolved to simply ignore him should their paths ever cross again, Haymitch had seemingly decided that pissing off Effie Trinket would become his new favourite pastime.

And that's the way it's been ever since.

If Haymitch passes her on the driveway and he thinks her new outfit looks ridiculous; he'll tell her. If Haymitch sees her new furniture being delivered and he thinks it looks ridiculous; he'll tell her. And if Haymitch thinks that her new Boyfriend looks ridiculous.. well, then he'll tell him.

Her relationship with Seneca had fizzled out not long after the last time Haymitch had insulted him, and she can't say she blames him for wanting to keep his distance.

In short, if Haymitch Abernathy spots an opportunity to insult Effie Trinket, he'll grab it with both hands.

Which is why Effie is struggling to feel at all positive as she shuts the front door behind her and makes her way down the steps of the porch, scarf wrapped around her head in an attempt to shield her hair and face from the rain that's currently beating down against her coat.

As she rounds the corner of the house her foot catches on something sticking up from the grass, and she manages to steady herself just in time, narrowly avoiding taking a tumble. She squints down at the floor and manages to make out the faint outline of an empty bottle.

Lovely.

Effie grits her teeth, and carries on walking until she's standing under the small canopy that hangs above his front door. This will be over quickly. She'll knock, ask him if he has a couple of candles she can borrow (he must have, surely?) and then she'll be on her way. No need to make small talk or give him the opportunity to insult her. Knock, candles, home. Simple.

Huddling as close as she can to the door, Effie brings up her hand and gives three sharp raps against the wood. Nothing. She repeats the motion and scrunches her eyes shut, trying to focus on anything other than the oppressive darkness that seems to be enveloping her.

A growl of frustration escapes Effie's lips. She knows for a fact that Haymitch is home. Had heard him thumping up the stairs earlier as she'd been sitting on the sofa and reading her magazine. He's clearly ignoring her, and that simply won't do. Effie lifts up her hand, draws it back, and then proceeds to bang holy hell out of the door.

It takes a minute, but then there's the sound of heavy footfalls on the stairs, closely followed by a crash and a not so muffled shout of "fuck!" and then the door in front of Effie is yanked open and she comes face to face with Haymitch Abernathy.

It's difficult to see the exact expression on his face in this light, but Effie assumes it's probably one of amusement, judging by the laugh he barks out when he catches sight of her.

"Nice get up you've got going on there Princess," he chuckles, motioning to the scarf wrapped around her head, and Effie takes a deep breath in through her nose as she wills herself to stay calm.

"Good Evening, Haymitch. I was wondering if perhaps you had a candle or two that I could borrow? I would, of course, purchase you replacements first thing in the morning," she asks as politely as she can manage.

"Don't tell me Little Miss Organised isn't adequately prepared for a powercut. Imagine that!" he teases, hand flying to his chest in a mock display of outrage.

Effie digs her nails into the palm of her hand, willing away the familiar sense of annoyance that always seems to flare up when she's forced to speak to this infuriating man, and takes another calming breath as she resists the urge to break eye contact.

"I have simply misplaced my emergency supplies," she lies, willing her teeth not to chatter as her hands burrow further into the pockets of her coat, "and I'd appreciate it if you could find it within yourself to do the neighbourly thing and help me."

"What's the matter, Princess? Scared of the dark?" he taunts, and Effie is absolutely horrified when she feels tears springing to her eyes, and her bottom lip starting to shake, and oh god, he will never let her live this down.

"Please, Haymitch," she whispers, and her voice is shaking, her nails digging into the palms of her hands almost hard enough to break the skin now, and Haymitch at least has the decency to look slightly sheepish as he registers her obvious distress at the situation.

He mumbles at her to wait for him, and as he makes his way up the stairs Effie turns around and blinks her eyes hard, hot tears burning her icy cold cheeks. She swipes them away angrily with the edge of her scarf as she hears him making his way back downstairs, and as she turns back around to face him she steels herself for whatever sarcastic comment he's about to bestow on her.

But the comment never comes.

Instead, a brown paper bag is thrust into her arms, and she hears something that sounds suspiciously like an apology before the door is unceremoniously slammed shut in her face.

Charming.

It's almost completely dark now, but when Effie peers into the bag she can see that it contains two candles and a box of matches, and she feels that panic that's been steadily building in her chest slowly start to subside.

As she makes her way back around to her porch clutching the bag tightly to her chest so she doesn't get the candles or matches wet, she's already starting to feel more positive. She's halfway through planning her weekend when she approaches her doorway, hand reaching into her pocket for her keys and encountering…

Nothing.

Nothing whatsoever, because Effie's pockets are empty, and her keys are where they always are; in her handbag. On the sofa. In her living room. Behind her automatically locking door.

.

And that's how Effie Trinket finds herself on Haymitch Abernathy's doorstep for the second time that night.