Original Prompt (anon): can you write a thing where Effie gets tipsy at a party of sorts and Haymitch sees her dancing start getting more provocative the more she drinks.. etc
"One more."
Effie tried to focus hard on the small shot glass in hand.
"You said that five times ago," Haymitch slurred from her side, already fairly merry himself.
Effie made a noise. "Has it been that many? No it hasn't, I don't think it hasn't."
Haymitch snorted at one of her rare grammatical slip-ups that only seemed to occur after she had been on the good-stuff for a half hour.
"Okay, I'm going," she knocked back the mouthful and flinched, her entire body shaking a little. "Strong." She muttered as she began to stagger away back towards the dance floor. She stumbled but managed to regain her balance by inelegantly grabbing a marble bust of the President.
Haymitch turned back around to face the bar again, chuckling. He took a long gulp of whatever he was drinking and glanced over to Chaff, passed out face down on the surface of the bar. He wished he was in such a state himself, the loud music and bright colours beginning to bother him greatly.
This was not the civilized, elegant type of party he imagined Effie Trinket to attend when she wasn't busy being all up tight and bitchy during the Games. Everyone was pissed and if they weren't already, they were well on their way.
Somehow Effie had managed to pull him along and, in consolation, told him that he could bring Chaff since he was in the Capitol too, though at the moment he wasn't being very good company.
Haymitch wasn't sure why they were at this party, Effie said it was a friend's birthday or something but judging by the skimpy purple number she was sporting, she was looking for a little more than friendship.
"Damn, it's so loud here." Haymitch turned at the sound of Chaff's voice, straining against the music.
"Good, you're awake. I'm bored."
"Why'd you bring me here, 'Mitch?" The man wiped the corner of his mouth with his thumb.
Haymitch shrugged. "Trinket said I could bring you."
"Thanks," Chaff retorted and finished his drink, swirling the half melted ice around in the bottom of the glass. "Let's go."
"What? Where are we going?"
"To a real bar with real liquor," he eyed the multi-coloured concoctions sceptically. "And real women."
Haymitch snorted. "Good luck with that. I challenge you to find one 'real' woman in the Capitol."
Chaff grinned. "Well for what they lack in natural beauty they definitely make up for in other departments." He made a sound of contentment and Haymitch chuckled.
"Slow down there, old man. Wouldn't want to pull a muscle."
Chaff slapped him on the back. "You're no spring chicken yourself, 'Mitch."
Haymitch nodded. "You go if you want, I'll stay here. Need to keep an eye on Trinket, make sure she gets home safe."
"Make sure she gets to your bed safe, you mean?" Chaff raised an eyebrow. "Oh come on, I've seen you eyeing her up all night, you want a bit of that."
Haymitch grabbed another drink and took a sip. "I do not want to sleep with Effie Trinket. I'd never hear the end of it if I did, anyway."
Both men halted their conversation as the Escort appeared, cheeks flushed from the heat in the room.
"Hello Haymitch," she sang and proceeded to take sips of her drink through a straw. "I have something I need you to do."
Haymitch heard Chaff snicker at his side and proceeded to give the older man a hardly discreet kick in the shin.
"And what is that?"
"I need you to come and dance with me." She extended a hand.
"What? No. I'm not gonna dance with you."
"Yes! Come on, it'll be fun!" She sang. "Don't worry, I'm a good dancer."
Effie grabbed his hand, unwilling to take no for an answer and began to attempt to pull him up, some loud and very unladylike noises escaping her as she tried to lift all 170-pounds of the victor. Both men smirked.
"I'm sure that you are. Sorry, sweetheart, but I don't dance - I drink." He pulled his hand away forcibly for fear of having it dislocated at the wrist.
"You are boring, Haymitch." She pointed out matter of factly. "Won't you come and join the party? Have some fun?"
"I'm already having so much fun, it may just be illegal."
She huffed. "I don't appr-appreciate the sarcasm, if you want to stay in your dark corner then fine – I'm going to find someone who wants to dance with me. And that man with the little strawberry daiquiri jellies."
With that, she left in pursuit of jelly and company.
"Reckon that's what she sounds like in the bedroom?"
Haymitch chuckled darkly. "I don't know. Nor do I want to."
Again, Chaff raised an eyebrow sceptically but decided to keep his mouth shut.
"She's wasted," Haymitch observed, effectively changing the subject.
Chaff nodded in agreement, taking another drink. "Not half as wasted as I'd like to be."
While his companion continued to empty glasses, Haymitch took a look at the circus of people the Capitol had chewed up and well and truly spat out. Hats, dresses, suits, wigs, shoes in all the damn colours of the rainbow it seemed, and patterns that hurt his eyes but somehow he couldn't stop staring at. Perhaps that was the idea; wear a pattern so offensive that it could make a man's eyes water so much so that he wouldn't know who the hell he was kissing until he woke up in the morning and it was a bit too late. He entertained himself with the thought for a while as others brushed passed him, each outfit stupider than the last.
Some things he saw weren't as crazy as what he'd seen Trinket in but could still be safely defined by the word 'ridiculous'. He recalled a dress and matching headdress she had custom-made from hundreds of swan feathers painted orange, gold and white. He told her she looked like a hen and laughed about it for quite some time, much to her annoyance.
The image of the obnoxious creation faded from his mind as he felt Chaff nudging him in his side. "Hey, you might want to take a look at this."
Haymitch followed the older mans outstretched finger and saw that gracing the top of one of the buffet tables was none other than strait-laced, moralistic Effie Trinket.
Her shoes had been discarded at the foot of the table along with most of the food and decorations and, always the exhibitionist; she had managed to round up a small crowd that now cheered her on as she drank more and more and more.
Both men watched as she shouted something, incoherent over the clamour of the party, which received a loud applause from most of the men in her little troop.
"What'd she say?"
Chaff shrugged in response. "No idea… Oh my-"
Haymitch watched as both of her arms were freed from their lilac confines, leaving the rest of the dress to pool around her waist, her lace underwear the only thing standing between her and a spot on the front page of every Capitol newspaper tomorrow morning. He could only imagine the headlines.
"Not exactly an elegant drunk, is she?" Chaff guffawed, slapping his knee.
Haymitch was completely stunned into silence, too baffled to even laugh. He was certain he wouldn't be able to look at her in quite the same way again and he made a vow that she would never hear the last of this, at least not if he could help it.
To make matters worse, now she began to dance rather…provocatively up against one of the marble columns, singing along to the words of the song. Every so often she would take another drink, the liquid sloshing from the glass to the table and floor as she danced.
"You gonna go get her?" Chaff eventually wheezed out between laughs.
The mentor paused, waiting for some climax to her little routine. It came as the lilac dress was kicked away revealing a little more of his colleagues flesh than he had bargained for.
"Yeah I'm gonna go get her," he spoke, already beginning to weave through the throngs of people in the room.
Despite the protests of many, including her own, Haymitch managed to get a truly obliterated Effie Trinket down from the buffet table, effectively stopping her from removing any other items of clothing. Though really, he thought as he half walked – half carried her home, he wouldn't have minded to see a bit more.