yeeeeeeeeeeah | Her eyes were bright and clear

Her eyes were bright and clear

Needless to say, it'd been a rough week for the Capitol and her rebellious children.

Things weren't exactly looking up, but considering two power hungry political minds were out of the way, things were at least looking straight forward again. Except for the fact Katniss was being kept under lock and key until her trial was over. And if the results of her trial weren't favorable...

And for that reason alone, Haymitch was back to the bottle, quite literally. He drank down the bitter liquor, the sting distracting him from heavy thoughts and worries. Worries. Too many damned worries. About Katniss. About Peeta.

And strangely, about a prissy Ms. Trinket. Or used to be prissy. Or what ever.

She hadn't been the same. He wouldn't call her lifeless. Nah, he would have almost called her soulless before all of this started. But it was as if whatever the Capitol had done to her, had drained her of what made Effie...Effie. Even if it was prissy and several layers of annoying.

He looks down at the bottle, frowning. Not enough alcohol to drown these worries apparently.

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Shuffling over to the table in her heels, Effie sank down next to him, eyes focusing on the bottle. For a long time. Her painted lips pressed together as she stared at it, before letting out a soft sigh.

"Starting early today are we?"

Except there was no actual bite to it. She was just saying her lines, as expected.

Always Little Miss Perfect. Only without the bite behind the comment there is nothing to respond to. So he takes another drink watching her carefully.

"Think we all have a reason to start early today," he mutters, holding up the bottle as if offering it to her, already knowing what her answer will be.

He knows she's been through her own colossal amount of shit. What, he didn't know yet. But the fact that her critiques on his manners held no anger, no passion...he wondered how much her precious Capitol had messed with her.

Effie looks at the drink disdainfully...before pouring herself a small amount.

It is only in excess that alcohol is an issue, of course. Haymitch just happens to be proof of that. She opened her mouth to say as such, before letting it close again.

She's really just happy for some familiar company. And he is pig headed enough to leave when she's just trying to help him with some good advice.

"...Thank you."

An eyebrow quirks up at the thanks, and he leans back in his chair, taking the bottle back from her when she finishes pouring.

He's quiet for a moment, contemplating what needs to be said. 'I'm sorry' could be one thing, but if there's one thing Haymitch doesn't do, it's apologize. They're at where they're at. The past can't be changed, and he's not going to try and sugar coat it for her. He knows he doesn't have to anymore. But really...he's not up for talking about anything too heavy at the moment. Not at all.

"Never thought I'd live to see the day where you'd thank me."

And that's the honest truth.

She purses her lips together.

Well, she really doesn't have the energy to fight but if anyone could inspire it...

"It's only proper to thank someone after they've offered you something." She looks over at him, and lets out a shaky sigh. He is, no matter what, the most familiar thing she has seen lately. True, she has yet to leave home but...none of this is familiar anymore. Even the things that are now seem strange and twisted. But Haymitch is still, and will always be Haymitch.

She moves to sit next to him, sipping her drink softly.

"Are you going back to 12?"

Which is really a way of asking whether Peeta and Katniss will be ok.

Haymitch lets out a chuckle, "Princess, don't you think it's time to put aside the niceties and manners?"

He means it. They've got no place left in this world in his eyes. They've been through war, killed two dictators (both in one day...okay well he and Effie didn't do any killing personally, but regardless) and countless other things.

"Who needs those kinds of things now?" He takes another drink from the bottle to prove his point, thinking heavily on her question.

"Where else do I have to go?"

Katniss is still being tried, and Peeta is still...struggling from time to time. They both could use him if they all end up going back...Hell he could return to a simple life. Do something stupid. Like raise geese. Yea. That's the dream life right there.

"Manners are the oils that wheel society." She pauses, realizing that to him, that must just sound like some canned saying, and tried a different approach.

"...Right now we could all use to be a little bit more gentle with each other. Right now, we need to not be...not let it all fall apart more than ever."

And that's why it is important. Because right now it is harder to treat each other well. Which means they should be working harder at it.

"I don't really imagine you'd want to stay here. Didn't imagine it."

"Cute," he does realize for a moment though, perhaps that's what keeps Effie going. As stupid as they are, there is a hint of truth to her words too; if they can't be good to each other now, when can they be good to each other?

His fingers tap on the bottle for a moment and he looks down, "I get what you're saying. I guess. But hasn't it already fallen to shit, princess? Can't get much lower than we are right now."

Tap tap. Yep there it is. That fuzzy numbness is starting to set in. Just what he needs. They're already getting too deep with this conversation. And what was that that he heard? Did he hear disappointment that he wasn't staying in he Capitol?

"It's just all a little too much for me, if you know what I mean."

"And we're moving back up." She said with a sniff, before sipping at her drink again. "We're suppose to be pulling ourselves back together now, and these are the kind of things you do to achieve that."

She back to sound bytes, but that's her way of coping. Toeing the line.

Looking over at him, she presses lavender lips together. Oh, she understood hit being too much. She understood quite well.

"Of course. There really is no place like home."

And he can feel that shift. He can feel those hand fed lines through her and it just...pisses him off more. Any sympathy he felt for her need to maintain perfection and manners flies out the door.

To show his contempt, he spits on the floor. Teach those Capitol assholes.

She let out an audible gasp, turning to him with shock written clearly one her face.

After sputtering for a few moment she finally managed to get out words. "Why would you do that?!"

"To wake you up," he states, straightening up again. Or at least as much as a half drunken man can.

He gives her a smug look, "You wanna zone out? Then I'm gonna break the rules."

She looked over at him, staring for a long time, before looking back down at the drink.

"What ever are you talking about?" But it was more that she wanted to see what he had to say, than confusion. She was trying to set things in order, he was trying to tear that order down.

She just didn't understand why.

"Princess. You have not been you the last for the few day."

To be fair none of them had. Peeta had been torn up. The prep team was equally distressed. And he...well he'd been himself. He learned how to deal with stress and anxiety a long time ago.

"Well, do you really expect someone to be in their usual spirits when..."

When they'd been locked up and put through things they'd never even thought of? When people they cared for were put through even worse? When their whole way of life had been ripped up and put on it's head and they had no idea what they were going to do anymore?

But Effie wasn't going to say any of that out loud. Instead she pressed her lips together and stared at her drink.

"It has been a rough few days."

No. He couldn't have. But like he was going to admit that now. Haymitch stares at his bottle, frowning deeply at it. All right so maybe he was ribbing her a bit too hard to try and snap her out of it. He takes another swig of his drink, staying silent for a dew moments mores.

When he'd first come out of the games, he had no idea how to be anymore. He hadn't always been a prickly drunk, no not before the games. He learned to cope; maybe it wasn't the most effecient way, but he was still...somewhere in his drunken haze.

Damn it Effie you're making him think again. He nods to the glass in her hands, "That's why I gave you that."

"Hmmmm." She took another sip, before sinking back in the chair.

It was, she was pretty sure, the first time Haymitch had seen her with anything but perfect posture. But she also knew Haymitch didn't put much stock into the image she kept well maintained. She nudge her shoes off and pulled her feet up and nursed the drink and tried not to think about the last few months.

"You take care of those children." She finally said softly.

She had learned to become unattached to tributes early. She tried to help them, when she could, but manners and presentation really only got you so far. Haymitch had been a victor before she started...and since then the only time she'd even had hope was Katniss and Peeta. And now...

Well, they were still both alive, at least.

Even slightly (...okay more than slightly) drunk, he notices her posture sag. His eyebrow quirks up at her taking her shoes off. Whoa.

He lets the silence settle for a moment before really thinking about that line, "...Couldn't bare coming back with us princess?"

Of course she couldn't. Too caught up in her 'manners' and culture even now. She wouldn't be able to stand the now desolate District 12, even in one of the fancy victor houses.

"Thank you for the offer, but I could never thing to trouble you..." She said, waving a dismissive hand, before the thought really sank in.

Not the thought of living in 12.

The though of living here.

The hostility towards those who participated in the Games, even in a role like her own, who had worked to help the tributes, was palatable.

And she had no job. No hope of getting a job again. In fact the only reason she wasn't still looked in a tiny bare room was the mercy of Katniss Everdeen. Mercy the guards were grudging to give.

She shuddered softly.

And then downned the rest of her drink in one go.

And then began to cough in the least graceful way possible.

Haymitch rolled his eyes at her Little Miss Manners routine. He knew just as well as she did that there was no place left for her here. And it just pissed him off that she would choose this over...well, anything else.

"And what do you think they're going to do with you here?" he said, bite in his tone, "You may be a citizen, but you know what's waiting for you once the dust clears."

Another person dying. Haymitch's face hardened at the prospect. It had been a bloody war. Too many were lost in it. Innocents. Lovers. Good people. And while Effie was most definitely none of those things (really though, he wasn't so who was he to pass judgement?)...she didn't deserve to die.

When she coughed he made no comment. He could have. He could have prodded, asking where exactly did a lady learn to cough like that.

But he didn't. His mood had shifted, and not in a good way. He downed the drink, same as her, but with no coughing. This was a mood he didn't like. Things he didn't like to think about. So his answer?

He finds the next bottle, opening it and leaning over to pour more in her glass before she can say more. This is always the answer, even when it's not.

"You know, maybe I can find a less...public job. It won't be as nice...well...high profile, but I think I can get by." She rambled, focusing on the liquid in her glass, unsure if she was lying to him or herself. "I mean I have a lot in savings, assuming it is still there, and I mean I haven't talked to my mother yet, but I'm sure she would be willing to help, and my father, if they're still..."

And that was when she broke open and feel apart. It was an odd sorta of curling in on herself, her knee coming up and her body contouring down, as if she was protecting the drink clutched in her hand. Her head dropped, trying to hide her face, trying to protect herself as the weight of everything came crashing down.

And this was a situation he didn't know how to deal with.

It wasn't often Haymitch had a women crying in front of him. The only people he's had crying was yonug teens about to sent off to die, and it's normally be significantly numbed by alcohol.

This was completely different. She was a grown adult. And one he couldn't just mumble an apology, while walking away awkwardly. He looks between her and his cup, before setting the cup down and sitting up straight, and trying to talk a little softer...trying to at least, but the alcohol was making that a bit difficult, "It's not going to be that easy. You know that."

She was silent for a long stretch, sans the small sound of crying coming out from her curled up position. There was a clear trembled to her, as she tried desperately to gather up her pieces, and feeling them slip from her hands again and again.

Whatever had just broken wasn't going to be patched up with any tools Effie possessed. There was not enough make up and good manners in the world.

Finally she managed to get her voice, although she was more mumbling to her drink than talking to Haymitch.

"I don't know what to do. This is all I know."

"And you think of us did when all this happened?"

All of their hands had been forced in the last few weeks and it was unsettling. It took Haymitch a moment to get through the haze before it struck him; she'd been jarred harder than what she was used to.

..Funny that, Haymitch having a moment of actual sympathy. He tried to shake it, but now he couldn't, just thinking how before she'd been captured by the Capitol, the only death and torture she'd truly seen was on a screen. Even Haymitch could admit, it was easy to detach oneself from that.

His hand moved before he could stop it, resting on her knee in silence in some attempt at comfort.

Shit now what was he supposed to say.

Comfort was something Effie was use to taking, and when he touched her knee, she relaxed, collapsing against him.

There was a lot of things Haymitch was. But one of them was large, and strong, and a constant (if not always pleasent) prescence in her life. More so than anyone else, really. And something about him, being here now, just brought everything together full circle.

The Games were over. Not only did Effie not have a career (one which she had really focused her life around, because with that job there was no other option), her former career left her caught in the middle. The rebels (though she supposed they weren't really the rebels anymore) hated her for reaping children. The Capitol hated her for wanting to stop that. And really, she would never feel comfortable here after...after what they'd done. To her. To everyone.

"I could come with you?" She said softly, against his shirt.

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don't mock me for my crush :(

MOCK MOCK MOCK

:(

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Merry christmas...also lets just pretend that's effie in this icon

Katniss did become a fashion icon.