Chapter Text
Haymitch awoke to the sound of someone knocking on his door.
Correction, someone pounding on his door. One of his barely open eyes twitched. Surely it can’t be reaping day already? He’d been drinking a little heavier these days, but he was sure it wasn’t into enough of a stupor to lose three whole weeks.
“Haymitch!”
No. Not reaping day. Lucy let herself in on reaping day.
Let herself in, dragged him out of bed whether he was awake or not, and shoved him in the shower. Clothes and all if she had to.
If she was banging on his door that only meant one thing, she wasn’t alone. And whoever she was with could not be considered a friend.
Stumbling over his clothes from the night before - and week before - strewn around his bedroom floor, he made his way over to the window. Making sure not to twitch the curtains too noticeably, he peered out of them enough to be able to see his old mentor turned friend stood on his porch, with two peacekeepers waiting behind her at the bottom of the front steps.
Shit.
He opened the window just in time to hear her say:
“Sorry, it’s a side effect of the arena you see, you either sleep so lightly that every little noise wakes you up, or you learn to sleep through anything…”
She turned back to the door to bang again, but before she could call out his name he shouted a response from the window.
“Hang on! I just had to get out of the shower! Overslept, I’ll be ready in ten!”
He couldn’t be sure but he thought he saw Lucy’s shoulders drop in a sigh of relief. She turned back to the Peacekeepers with her usual charming smile and air of calm.
“Oh, these young ones. Sleep until noon if you let them,” She forced a laugh. “We won’t be long…”
He didn’t have time to listen to their conversation end, as soon as they had left she would head around the back and let herself into his house, so he slammed the window shut and made for the shower.
The water had been scalding hot but he managed to scrub himself clean of whatever the remnants of last night were that still clung to his body and even wash his hair before he heard Lucy’s voice through the bathroom door.
“Time’s up young man!”
The door opened just enough for her to shove a stack of clean clothes through for him.
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome. Now hurry up, we were due at the Justice Building thirty minutes ago.”
Justice Building? Why were they going there again?
Haymitch just shook his head and decided to focus on getting dressed. He could work out the finer details on their walk.
When he finally made it downstairs there was a fresh cup of coffee waiting for him on the counter. Lucy was drinking her tea at the table looking as put together as she always did, greying curls woven into a braid around her head and wearing an orange flowered dress.
“About time. Late night?”
Haymitch ran a hand over his face as he picked up the cup.
“I don’t even remember. New dress?”
He saw a flicker of worry pass through her eyes before she regained herself and snorted.
“Hardly, I wore it for last year's Reaping.”
He didn’t remember much about last year's Reaping. The only thing that stuck with him were the screams belonging to the mothers of the two twelve year olds they took to their deaths.
“Oh. Well. All your dresses are similar, I’m bound to get confused.”
Her lips pressed into a line, but she didn’t say anything.
“Come on, drink up.” She threw a bag of banana chips at him. “You don’t have time for any decent food. You can eat on the way.”
They were halfway to the Justice Building before he dared to ask what they were actually doing.
“Even if I wrote a note and pinned it to your forehead you would never remember anything, would you?” She sighed.
“Probably not,” He shrugged.
“We’re meeting Oreleon’s replacement today,”
“Oh,”
They had been made aware of District Twelve’s Capitol Escort’s retirement via official letter from the ‘Office of the Gamemakers’ at the beginning of April. But Haymitch didn’t remember anything about a replacement. Haymitch certainly wouldn’t miss the old man who wore the same long wig year in, year out, adorned with a different, helpless (and usually live) creature each time. The man had been complacent at best, not helpful in the least. They were lucky that Lucy had been doing this as long as she had or they would have been stuck up the shit creek they found themselves permanently trapped in, with the addition of a lost paddle.
“Do you know anything about them?”
“Not a thing except that they’re just out of whatever training course they get the privilege to attend ,”
Haymitch huffed, the only training he and any of the other mentors got was their time in the arena.
“Hm,” Lucy agreed with his dismissive noise.
The rest of the walk was spent in a somewhat uneasy silence. Most of the children they passed ran away from them, and those that didn’t, stared.
Haymitch held the door open for Lucy as they entered the Justice Building.
“I’d call you a gentleman if I didn’t know better,” She laid a hand on his shoulder as she passed him.
“I have no idea what you mean.” He made a show of brushing down his shirt, green, she always made him wear something colourful if she picked it out, and smoothing his hair with his hands.
“You need a haircut,”
He huffed.
“And a shave,”
She raised a hand and patted his cheek.
“I got out of bed for this Capitol fool, isn’t that enough?” He whispered.
She swatted his arm. “Behave.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” He asked, rolling his shirt sleeves up.
“Ah! There they are! District Twelves two most wonderful Victors,” Mayor Rutt appeared, a Peacekeeper on his left.
Haymitch and Lucy exchanged a look. The man who had recently taken up the mayoral residence usually gave them the widest of berths. They had quietly wondered what he planned to do on Reaping day, stand at the other side of the town square?
“If you’d both like to come with me, I’ll take you to meet your new Escort. Lovely young lady, very colourful, well mannered…”
Haymitch stopped listening to the ramblings of the balding man leading the way up the stairs and around the corner, away from the rooms utilised for the tributes to say goodbye to their families. They stopped in front of a door he hadn’t seen before, probably used for occasions designed to impress, like this one.
“Now, the two of you can head right in,” There was the trademark cowardice. “I have some other duties to catch up on,”
The squat man scurried away as fast as his legs could carry him.
“Okay. I’ve seen the way the ladies in the Capitol look at you. You’re still a handsome young man under all of that snark and the ever increasing bad habits.” Lucy tugged the collar of his shirt straight. “Put on your friendly face, and do whatever you usually do to get them to like you.” She brushed out some non-existent wrinkles in the fabric.
“You know why I’m nice to those women, right?”
She frowned at him.
“Easier to charm a Capitol with a desire for a scandalous rendezvous with a Hunger Games Victor. They don’t expect or even want any commitment, just a story to tell their friends,”
Her frown deepened but to her credit she didn’t say anything, and just rolled her eyes instead.
“So maybe put on your acquaintance-ly face instead,” She turned to the door and knocked twice before reaching for the handle. “Honestly Haymitch, just be polite.”
“What are you so afraid of?”
She had twisted the handle but paused after he spoke.
“Continuing to lose.”
Lucy pushed the door open, and they were immediately greeted with a rush of heavy floral scents.
Young had been the right descriptor for the Capitol woman who was the source of the perfume Haymitch was currently trying to breathe around. She barely looked old enough to be there, and she was definitely younger than his twenty-five years. It was a startling contrast to old Oreleon who had been old enough to remember both Mags’s and Lucy’s games clearly.
Her first sentences came out in a rush of words, though she seemed to be attempting to contain herself.
“Ms. Baird, Mr. Abernathy, what a pleasure it is to meet the two of you.”
She shook their hands, very professional, though the lace gloves she wore made his hand itch.
“When I was offered the opportunity to work with District Twelve I couldn’t pass it up. Both of your games were historical events!”
Wonderful, a fan.
Lucy was smiling, but not cruelly, more fondly amused.
“If you’ll just give me a moment, I have some plans I would like to go over with you both…”
She tottered over to the desk at the edge of the room that was strewn with papers and folders.
“Do NOT try to fuck our Escort.” Lucy growled at him while the young woman had stepped out of ear shot.
What did Lucy take him for? Someone that ran around collecting conquests like a horny teenager?
The Capitol woman turned back to them briefly and flashed that smile again. That overly bright, and actually happy to be there smile. He forced himself to smile back, looking her up and down as she turned away. Assessing her from the top of her pink poodle-esque wig that actually looked like it might be soft if you touched it; over the knee length white dress with huge pink and purple roses attached around the collar and the waist; down to the ridiculously high, high heeled shoes.
He wouldn’t say she was unattractive.
His expression must have betrayed his thoughts because when he looked back to her, Lucy was glowering at him.
“No promises.” He answered with a smirk.
She hit him so hard around the back of the head that for the rest of the meeting, while his eyes felt like they were throbbing, he took in nothing but the name of old Oreleon Gould’s replacement.
Effie, Effie Trinket.