Requested by anon: Hola, could you also write about the first year of Haymitch and Effie working together? That would be awesome. Thanks a bunch.
Keeping Effie Trinket
(26 years old)When the door to his room opened and the lights from the train corridor spilled in, Haymitch stirred. Effie Trinket had apparently tracked him down to his room which both surprised and annoyed him.
"What?" he growled, lifting the hand that was covering his eyes.
"I thought I'd check on you and a good thing, too. You're in bed," she remarked. "Are you not going to meet the children? They are waiting for you."
"No," he let his head fall back on the bed, "and don't call them children."
"What do you mean no? You have to meet them; talk to them and get to know them."
"Sweetheart," he raised his head again to squint at her. "I already know all there's to know 'bout them."
Effie propped a hand on her hip, glaring at him. "Do you?" she challenged. "Tell me then."
"They're going to die," he answered simply.
Haymitch watched her. He couldn't look away; he couldn't take his eyes off her. There was a bubbling need to see how she would react to his statement. From the moment they had met in the Justice Building, there was something about her that intrigued him. Where Amara look at him as if he was beneath her, Effie held his gaze and talked to him as if he meant something. Then again, Amara had known him as the boy from Twelve whereas Effie had only known him as the Victor of the Second Quarter Quell.
In front of him, Effie faltered ever so slightly and if he wasn't intently watching her, he might have missed it. Her blue eyes widened imperceptibly at what he said before she blinked and the confusion was gone.
Haymitch exhaled.
"They will if we don't help them," she told him sternly.
That caught his attention - her use of 'we'. Just as Amara's 'you lost the tributes' was not lost on him, this one didn't either. But he let it slide, choosing not to dwell on it. He should wait till the end of the Games and then he would see how she felt about 'we' when Twelve lose.
"Stop, stop," he raised a hand when he saw her taking a step forward. "Who do you think you are, sweetheart? The old goat never stepped into my room before and you ain't gonna to either. Don't come in."
"She probably had a good reason – your room is filthy which is surprising since we only got onboard this morning," she told him harshly and Haymitch wanted to laugh because she was there arguing with him, matching him for every retort he threw her way. This woman was something. "I ought to send the Avox to clean your room."
"Is that part of your escorting job, too?" he sneered.
Unfazed, she crossed the threshold of his room, carefully stepping over empty bottles. Now that she was inside, she glanced around, looking for a clean space to sit. In the end, she perched herself gingerly on his vanity. Her skirt rode slightly up her thigh. Haymitch stared because he wasn't above that as he raised an eyebrow at her for taking such liberties.
"Amara warned me you would be difficult."
"Whatever. You should have listened to her."
"I like the challenge," she declared, smoothing her skirt. "Besides, I don't imagine I will be here for long. This is just a stepping stone to something far greater."
He snorted, reaching out for another bottle. "I'm sure."
Effie pursed her lips, whether from him drinking or him dismissing her so carelessly that way, he didn't know.
xXx
He wouldn't have seen it if he hadn't left his room to get a drink. Effie was at the kitchen preparing a warm glass of milk for the female tribute, whose name he couldn't quite remember. The girl was sitting on the stool, desperately wiping off the tears from her cheeks. Effie placed the glass of milk in front of her and rubbed her back in soothing circles.
He crouched in front of the cabinet, looking for a bottle. The sound of the doors opening and closing caught her attention and she looked up in time to see him extract a bottle of whiskey.
"Try not to think too much about it, okay? Why don't you take the glass back to your room?" Effie spoke quietly, comforting the girl. "Do you want me to come with you?"
The girl shook her head.
"Goodnight, darling," Effie bade her.
"I don't know if you're a fool or you just can't control your maternal instinct," he spoke up once the girl was gone. He drank from the bottle and leaned against the doorway.
"I am just doing my job."
"Amara's never done that," he pointed out. "Didn't she tell you not to do that?"
"I am not her and I don't measure myself by her standard. What do you have against me comforting the children? They're anxious and nervous. Something big is happening to them and it is only natural that they're overwhelmed."
"Overwhelmed…" Haymitch gave a bitter snort. "That's what you think that was? Sweetheart, that kid is fucking terrified because she's going to die."
Her face morphed into one of annoyance and he wondered if that would crack the thick make-up she had applied. The bright blue of her lipstick was distracting for the simple reason that lips were not supposed to be blue and it was unnatural.
"You keep saying that but so far, you've refused to discuss strategies on how we should go about helping them. I've been trying to -"
"They're going to break your heart, Trinket. Don't say I didn't warn you."
Somehow, her face softened. "Like they broke yours?"
He clenched his jaws. He had not been expecting that and it made him angry. She shouldn't be saying those kinds of things to him. What would she know about his heart?
"There's nothing left to break."
"Of course there is," she implored. "If there's nothing left, you wouldn't be so adamant on maintaining your distance."
That took him aback. Either she was perceptive or he was obvious. Whichever it was, he did not like it one bit. His face closed off and he turned away from her, intending to leave but she touched his arm, stopping him. Just as quickly, she released it, surprised at her own audacity.
"We should try to talk to sponsors, Haymitch. I will arrange for some tomorrow."
He sighed, running his hand down his face. It was too late at night to be arguing with her and ever since they met, all they had done was argue. There seemed to be an unspoken rule for them to always agree to disagree.
"Tell you what - if you can get someone willing to listen to Twelve, I'll play along."
She beamed, her eyes lighted up. Effie was delighted at the prospect of doing something, at the chance to prove herself.
"Yes, yes, of course," she nodded enthusiastically.
"I'm going to go back to my room and you're gonna leave me alone. I've got a bottle to finish."
He spent the walk to his room thinking about her. She puzzled him.
XxX
"Wake up!" she trilled. Her voice was hurting his ears. "Wake up, Haymitch. It's a big, big day!"
"Fuck off," he grumbled. He turned, lying flat on his stomach and covered his head with a pillow.
The pillow was ripped off him. In retaliation, he grabbed another only to have her tug that away from him, too. Haymitch wrestled it from her, or at least he tried to. His head was throbbing and his mouth was dry. Everything was terrible that morning including being rudely awaken by his new escort.
"You make no sense at all," she panted. "If you can fight with me over a pillow, then you can very well wake up!"
Frustrated, he gave the pillow a hard pull. It slipped from her grip except now, just as she had said, he was awake and the pillow had lost its appeal. He threw it at her. It wasn't hard but she gasped and staggered back. He rolled his eyes.
"I need your opinion on the clothes they should wear for tonight," she said suddenly without preamble. "Twelve being a mining district means that –"
"Are you serious?" he interrupted.
"Absolutely."
"I'm the fucking mentor, not a stylist!"
"Language," she frowned. "One wouldn't know you're a mentor. You don't act like it."
"You've got some nerves."
"From what I gathered, your previous escort left you to your own devices. But rest assure, Haymitch, I will not do the same. I am here to do my job. Now, according to my schedule," she consulted the clipboard on her hand, "you only have five minutes left to shower. Move along. I shall see you at breakfast at eight sharp and no later."
She had drawn up a schedule for him, he thought with mounting horror. This year was a nightmare. He didn't think he could deal with her. In fact, he vowed to get rid of her in any way he can.
Haymitch arrived at a quarter past eight. He spent ten minutes in his room idling, on purpose.
If he irritated her enough, maybe she will ask for a transfer. Amara had threatened him with the same countless of times over the years for him to know escorts could ask for transfer.
XxX
Haymitch made a beeline for his friend.
"Chaff," he hissed his friend's name through gritted teeth.
"Haymitch," Chaff clapped his friend's shoulder and together, they found a seat amongst the stand to watch the Parade.
Haymitch was careful to make sure there were no other empty seats near him so that Effie would have to find a seat someplace else.
"How's your new escort? You must be enjoying yourself."
"This one's no better. She's fucking crazy," he grumbled. "How do I get the old goat back? Is there a way? I'll put in a good word for her."
Chaff's bark of laughter was so loud that even though Effie was three rows in front of him, she turned to look back at the pair curiously.
"You hated Amara," Chaff pointed out.
"Sure I do," Haymitch agreed. "But I can deal with her. I can't deal with her."
"This one's hot," Chaff eyed Effie appreciatively. "I don't know why you're complaining."
"That's 'cause you're a pervert, Chaff. I'm not," Haymitch countered. "She doesn't leave me alone. I can't drink in peace. She follows me everywhere. She's got a damn schedule and she tells me what to do, when to do it and how to do it. She's insane," he repeated. "She taught me how to fold a fucking napkin at breakfast and she's asking me not to drink so much, said it's important for Twelve's image."
"Man, I don't think I've ever heard you this vocal in all the years I've known you. You don't usually talk this much," Chaff noted, shoulder shaking with laughter. "Look at it this way - her attention's on you at least. All these men, on the other hand, they want her attention..."
"They can have it," Haymitch said hastily.
XxX
"Haymitch, it's time. Please seat yourself at the booth," Effie hurried over, holding the curtain back so he could enter Twelve's viewing booth.
"Be a good boy, Haymitch, and go," Chaff snickered when he overheard.
Effie took a seat next to him, crossing her legs daintily. He looked at her.
"Yes?"
"Aren't you gonna go join the other escorts?" he asked pointedly. "I do this alone."
"Not anymore. You have me now. I'd rather be here to help you answer any calls from sponsors... Or arrange anything you need..."
His brows crinkled. He focused his attention back on the screens, splitting the screen and getting ready for when his tributes would be send out to the arena.
"You won't have much to do, then. Sponsors don't call Twelve, and this one will end sooner than you expect. Look at the arena," he gestured. It was a desert and the weather was harsh.
He uncapped his flask and took a drink.
"Are you always this bitter?" she laughed lightly.
Haymitch said nothing. When the Games began, Effie was with him in Twelve's viewing booth throughout. She sat with him, watching the Games together. She whispered under her breath, urging the tributes on and at some point, she offered to take his place in case he needed a break. He didn't need a break because both their tributes died before night had even fallen in the arena.
"Fuck!" he cursed when their female tribute stopped breathing.
It might be a different year but it was always the same tune.
That's it, sweetheart," he leaned back, exhausted and defeated. "Congratulations on completing your first Games."
"Don't," she whispered. She had been quiet until then. "I don't feel … I don't think I should be …."
He looked over at her. Effie Trinket was shaking, staring at the dark screen on their table. His stare must have burnt a hole through her because she turned her head slowly towards him. Her face was drained of its colour.
"I - There are paper works, yes?"
"Yeah," he nodded.
"I'll take care of it," she announced and stood up abruptly, gathering her things. "Goodnight, Haymitch."
Effie left without another word. That was the last he saw of her that year.
The next morning, all the papers were ready and waiting for his signature. His trip home had been arranged and his train ticket back to District Twelve was on the coffee table.
Amara Varvari had never, in all those nine years that he knew her, made his life in the Capitol slightly bearable. She had never touched the paper works and was gone the moment the canon signalled the tributes' demise went off.
Effie Trinket was another breed of escort altogether, probably the only one of its kind. He thought he might keep her for another year or so. It was true that she never left him alone and tried to run this ship alongside instead of relinquishing all that power to him, but she had done more than his old escort ever did, not only for him, but for the tributes.
Let me know what you think of this!