Haymitch woke up some time later that morning and found Effie curled up. Her head was resting on his chest and an arm draped lazing over his stomach. He saw her fancy little tablet lighting up like crazy on the floor. "Uhh.. Eff.." He nudged her. "Effie… You're tablet is going haywire."

Effie grumbled and stiffly sat up. "What?" She looked at her alarm clock and cursed loudly. She flew out of bed and grabbed her console. "Oh no… oh no! No! No! No!" she panicked and scrambled for something to wear. She was nearly in tears, pulling on a pale purple dress. It was simple by Effie standards.

"Slow down, where do you have to be?" He sat up and watched her curl her hair, cursing often when she carelessly burned her fingers. No time for a wig, and Haymitch bet that it pissed her off. She was putting her make-up on as quickly as Haymitch had ever seen anyone do it. Would it even look good?

"I'm late… Oh, god, I'm really late!" She whimpered and dug through a huge bin full of accessories. Bracelets, rings, earrings, and a purse. Shoes. Effie had a closet just for shoes, and at that Haymitch burst out laughing. The shoes she wore were obnoxious. Grey and studded with glitter and purple flowers.

"Late for a meeting? Just relax, they'll understand." He laid back and watched her move very quickly for a woman in heels.

"Sure... A meeting..." She grabbed her purse. She flung the door open and hurried out only to find Seneca Crane, polished and poised to knock on her door.

The gamemaker was frozen mid-knock, and seemed a pinch surprised when he saw Effie at the door. First, his eyes went to her hair, wigless and natural, but as he was about to take in what she had done for her make-up, he looked over her shoulder at the movement there, on her bed.

"... Haymitch Abernathy?" His tone was one of disbelief and surprise. The 'really?' that hung in the air could go unsaid.

Effie fanned herself, practically feeling the make-up melt off her flushed face. "Seneca..." She said so forced with surprise. Of all things to happen this would be it. Haymitch in her bed barely clothed and Seneca standing at her door probably inquiring as to why the ever prompt and on time Effie Trinket was in fact very, very late.

Oh this was rich, thought Haymitch. Effie had many more secrets and one was standing in her doorway. He couldn't help but be angry at himself and partially her. He treated her poorly for so long. How did he not think to ask if she was involved with anyone? Why did she never mention it? Effie hardly seemed to be a man-eater or a floosy in the derragatory sense of the word. Haymitch, hung over and rather tactless as expected blurted out, "... The fuck are you doing with Seneca Crane?" His eyes daggered Effie to the spot.

"It's not.." she huffed and looked at both men. "I'm..." she stared at Haymitch who was now just being an ass. "Why should I even have to tell you?" She fired off rather temperamentally.

Touche, Effie. Haymitch was outright pissed, perhaps more upset by her omission of the truth. He would figure that out later when he could sort his feeling out with copious servings of the nearest liquor. "You don't have to tell me anything." He stressed the 'don't'. Though it sure felt as if after all the talking the past two days that she might have mentioned dating Seneca Crane and why she had any business kissing him or letting him sleep in her bed. Twice. Effie Trinket was not the saint she spun herself to be.

Seneca felt that Haymitch had put both their feelings succinctly; Effie didn't owe anyone an explanation. He softly cleared his throat, "If we're done here…" He looked back to Effie now, "Shall we head off to lunch?"

Effie looked back at Haymitch, then to Seneca and nodded. She shut the door behind them and walked with Seneca. "Seneca... It's not what you think."

"You don't know what I think it is." He said softly, but without malice. "What you do with your mentor is none of my concern." But he did look down at her, with a fondness in his blue eyes, "But I do hope that if all goes well, we can take each other seriously."

Effie was absolutely squirming in her own skin. Just how did she let herself get into this mess? "He's not my mentor, just someone I manage as part of my job..." She tried for his sake to distance herself from what ever it was that defined her and Haymitch. "What did you think?" she wanted to tell him desperately that he was probably thinking all wrong.

"... A colorful variety of things." Seneca mused, "Maybe in his drunken stupor, he followed you into bed and collapsed on it. It would have been nigh impossible to move him, so you just let him sleep there. Or maybe he fell asleep on you and pinned you there." Then his eyebrows knit together with a tinge of worry or concern, "Or maybe you two had a drunken tryst." He glanced down at Effie and dropped the dignified tone for a moment, "But really, Haymitch Abernathy? You don't just manage him, Effie, 'manage' is a very kind way of saying you deal with him in ways that aren't part of your job description."

Seneca had a fine point, and albeit a gentleman and finely mannered. Effie kept thinking of Haymitch. While her casual Capitol lunch went on and then finished up, Haymitch was making quite the mess back in his allotted floor. Effie was back in an hour or so, as Seneca had duties in the Gamemaker control center. As the elevator opened Effie could smell the booze. It reeked of whiskey. What did he do, bathe in it?

"Haymitch?" Effie approached his door and braced herself.

She was back and he was drunk enough to confront her with the things he'd been stewing over. "Boyfriend gone?" He swung the door open and took a pull from the bottle.

"He's not.." Effie started.

"Bullshit." He pointed a finger at her. "You're dating him. A magnificent Capitol peacock. A future Head Gamemaker. You two make a fine pair."

"I am not dating him, listen to me!" Effie snapped he was being cruel for no reason. "Get over yourself, it doesn't matter what he is."

"He's one of them!" Haymitch yelled and closed the gap between them.

Effie staggered back, fed up with him and his varying emotional stability. "You're emotions are giving me whiplash. I'm done talking to you like this. If you have a problem with who I choose to spend time with then tell me like a grown man. You have no right to judge me!" she crossed her arms. "I never once judged you for your drinking. I am a grown woman, I care for myself, I am successful and I certainly do not need to answer to you." She slammed the door and grabbed her things and went to the viewing lounge. Far from, and safe from the hell storm Haymitch was tending to.

**I've got to give shout out to my friend, Jen. She helped give Seneca voice and craft this exciting chapter when I pondered pulling the plug on introducing Seneca. Review and let me know if you like Seneca. I have plans for him, but I could just as easily work him out**