A/N: thank you for the prompt! I hope I did it justice:) enjoy:)

Prompt: Effie Trinket has a dressing malfunction.

Of pink and promises

"Oh for goodness' sake!" Effie said in exasperation. This was the 4th dress she had tried on that you night for the Victor's ball and nothing was going right. The blue was too similar to Finnick's home district- she didn't want to be amongst the crowd of copying the 14 year old's style. After all, it was his celebratory party.

Pastel colours also seemed too light, too summery for this evening. Effie decided that limited her clothing choices to around 25 pieces. Brilliant. She was in dire need of a second opinion; preferably male's, seeing as she was trying to impress Seneca Crane tonight. Having the upper hand with a game-maker couldn't be a bad thing.

Walking out of her bedroom half dressed, Effie walked across the hall and down it slightly, arriving at Cinna's bedroom. Slowly, she opened the already ajar door.

"Hello? Cinna?" She asked, almost whispering. Looking around his messy abode, she cringed slightly. The mess was giving her chills, papers littered with fashion designers scattered all around. How anyone could live like this she could never understand...

After realising Cinna probably wasn't here, Effie huffed; Annoyance seeping through her. The only other male opinion was... No. She wasn't going there.

Almost stomping back to her room, Effie looked at her possible dresses. She had narrowed them down to two, both fabulous and fashionable clothing items. A dark red dress which clung to her like a second skin and showed off her assets wonderfully. The other, pink- not too bright or too dark- just the right shade to match her beautiful blonde wig and cream heels.

Holding both of them against her on their hangers in front of the mirror; she genuinely couldn't decide, to her horror, which one was better on her. Groaning, Effie told herself desperate times called for desperate measures, as she walked out into Haymitch's room from across the way.

After what was coming up to be 5 years of working with the only surviving victor of district 12, Effie had taught herself what she could do and what she couldn't. Fortunately, the latter's list wasn't very long.

Barging into his room uninvited, the escort instantaneously spotted the drunkard nursing a bottle of alcohol, sprawled across his unmade bed.

"Haymitch I need your help," she demanded.

"Sorry princess," he said sarcastically- throwing his spare hand in the air- "you've come to the wrong guy,"

"Unluckily for you," she spat back, "you're the only guy in the penthouse, at the moment,"

He rolled his eyes at her, "did you scare them away with your crazy time-keeping?"

"No, they're at the party. In which both you and I are going to be late for," Effie couldn't help a bossy tone crawl into her voice.

Shaking away her argument Haymitch rolled his eyes again. "What do you need me for?"

"Which one?" Effie immediately raised both couture dresses and looked at him expectantly.

Haymitch raised an eyebrow. "Neither. They're both hideous,"

Effie mouth both practically and literally fell open. "They are not! They are, gorgeous dresses in which, one I need to wear! So I will ask again, which one?"

Haymitch rubbed a hand over his face and sighed. "Err, that one," he gestured to the pink.

"It's not too trampy?"

"No."

"Short?"

"Princess, your dresses are always short,"

"Tight?"

"Name one thing you wear which is loose,"

"Flamboyant?"

Haymitch actually groaned this time, "sweetheart, I don't even know what that means! Just put on the damn dress and go!"

Effie's eyes became narrow as she slowly started to untie her dressing gown's belt; whilst Haymitch's eyes grew wide.

"What are you doing Trinket?" He said warily. Sure, he was a victor and a fair share of women still wanted him but; Effie Trinket?

"Turn around would you?!" She asked, half politely, half rushed.

"Why the hell are you getting changed in my room? Go in your own!" The thought of her getting undressed in his room made him slightly uneasy but also, curious?

Now it was her turn to roll her eyes. "My dress needs zipping up at the back," she gestured to the dress again. "I can't do it by myself!"

He couldn't help but stare as her robe became slightly loose, but didn't reveal anything.

"For god's sake, Haymitch! Turn around! Or at least close your eyes!" She snapped.

Smirking, he took another sip of alcohol and squeezed his eyes shut. He heard the sound of silk slipping off shoulders and then an unzip.

Purely out of curiousity, he opened his eyes slightly. It was fair to say he expectations were not lived up to, of plastic enhancements and signs of body consciousness. Absent was surgery scars from breast implants, or stretch marks from excessive working out. In their place stood creaming, porcelain skin and a natural, rounded chest: bra covered and busting. Her stomach was blemish free and flat; although she still had a gorgeous figure which dipped at the waist. Effie's slender legs were endless, prominent form her heeled shoes.

He found himself unable to stop staring. A few moments later he found himself caught.

"HAYMITCH ABERNATHY, YOU ARE VILE!" She screamed.

He jumped at her screech but soon recovered. "Just enjoying the view princess," he winked.

For some reason, his words sent shivers down her bare spine. Slowly and self aware, she pulled her dress up and turned around. A silent request.

Haymitch walked towards her and zipped up her pink outfit. Often tracing her milky, exposed skin with his finger; causing her to produce goosebumps and an uncomfortable spark down below. With the feel of his alcohol musked breath on the back of her neck, it took all of her strength not to buckle. Once the zip had reached the top of her spine, Effie turned around to face him.

"Thank you, although you promised you wouldn't look," she scolded. She surprised herself by not feeling angry towards him.

"Couldn't help it," he smirked,

Then suddenly his mouth was on hers, in the most rushed, unprofessional kiss she had ever had. She also hated herself for responding to him, by kissing him back with little more dignity.

Suddenly, he pulled away. "Couldn't help that either," he waved her away. A dismissal. "Enjoy your party, Princess,"

Her shoulders dropped in disappointment and her made-up eyebrows furrowed.

"Just..." Effie stuttered on her words, certainly not something she did often. "Don't drink too much. Please."

A beg. Not something she did often either. Haymitch must have noticed too, as his face softened. And, as Effie was walking out the door he said, more to himself than her.

"I don't make promises I can't keep,"

Although the meaning was deeper than he implied, Haymitch convinced himself it was more light-hearted than not. 'Not' was a place he went too often in his dreams,torturous for him within. Effie Trinket provided his relief with their bickering and arguments. She was the perfect distraction.