Arrangement

Haymitch stared at the screen, at Elowen, who herself probably couldn't realize what had just happened. The people around Haymitch screamed with joy and began to cheer. Some even came over to him and patted him on the shoulder in congratulations. But the young victor didn't react, didn't even try to put on a happy face. There was nothing he could be happy about. All Haymitch saw were Elowen's wide green eyes, which suddenly reminded him of his own, even though they looked completely different. You could practically see the dark hole she fell into when the realization finally caught up with her.

Elowen staggered forward, straight toward Rye, blinked several times, then stared at the rock she had thrown at his temple. By accident. She hadn't meant for him to stumble. She had only wanted to escape. Blood was gushing from a wound on the back of his head. Her own knees were bleeding from the fall, but she didn't seem to notice. Elowen stood bent over the dead boy from District 9 for several minutes. Then, as if she had come out of a trance, she turned on her heel and ran back into the forest. Away from the stream, past the spot where she had met Rye, and deeper into the jungle. Away from the scene of the crime.

"That accuracy is truly remarkable!" commented Claudius Templesmith in a fascinated voice. The image of Elowen running away through the swamp was replaced by him and Caesar sitting in their usual television studio, flashing each other big grins. "If you are just tuning in, ladies and gentlemen, that was Elowen Tarnvald from District Twelve, knocking out her rival Rye Hooker from Nine with an incredible throw to the head!"

"Wow, wow, wow!" Caesar's smile seemed to stretch from ear to ear. He was obviously excited and raised his arms in the air in delight. "This death will go down in history! This is the first for Twelve in ... how many years, actually?" His eyes darted to someone off camera, eyebrows raised in question. His eyes widened even more when someone silently told him the answer. "Since the victory of our favorite victor from District Twelve, Haymitch Abernathy himself! Yes, my friends, this will definitely go down in history!"

"District Twelve's performance this year has been exceptional," agreed Claudius. "This is due to a number of factors, including the new escort, Effie Trinket, but Abernathy's attitude seems to have changed. I hear he has not missed a single official event so far!"

With that, the speculations about the resurrection of District 12 began. Effie would be happy, it would be good publicity for her. But Haymitch had a strong urge to vomit. He turned his back to the screen because he thought Elowen was safe for the moment and found himself confronted with a crowd of people. People in colorful clothes, piled-up hair and bizarrely made-up masks surrounded him, shook his hand and offered their congratulations. The Capitols congratulated him not only on Elowen's murder, but also on his personal comeback. As if he were a long-lost pop star who had finally returned to the light of society. It was crazy and disgusting.

But Haymitch knew the game, knew that he now had no choice but to play along. For Elowen. The sacrifice she had made couldn't be in vain. He saw it in the stony face of Mags, who was standing at the edge of the mentoring area with Chaff, examining him. They had their arms folded in front of their chests and were probably both mentally calculating the number of days they would give him before the Capitol clockwork gave him the fatal crack.

Haymitch put on a distant, arrogant smile and shook hands. He made small talk with a few potential sponsors, trying not to let on that he'd already had three or four too many drinks earlier in the day. He had to play along. This could work in their favor, now that District 12 had made a kill. Not the most interesting, but bloody and primitive. Some people here enjoyed watching the kids kill each other with the simplest weapons. It gave the murders a rustic, old-fashioned touch that appealed to some. They considered the Districts to be backward and uneducated, where only barbarians and riffraff lived.

An enthusiastic woman squeezed his hand and Haymitch gave her a dark smile. She had neon green hair that surrounded her head in thick curls. Her face wasn't spared the color, and he had to look away because it hurt his eyes. What had gotten into these people?

"Now you have some competition, Haymitch!" she giggled loudly, squeezing his shoulder as she took another step closer. So many people in such a small space. Haymitch felt like they were deliberately crowding him, even though they knew he found it uncomfortable. They invaded his personal space without a second thought, touching him without any consideration. But the further words that came from the green woman's mouth were worse than any of that. "At least now you're not alone on Twelve's kill-list!"

The thought that Elowen's name was right under his own, that whether she died or lived, her name would now be on that damned list for the rest of his life, made the bile rise in Haymitch's stomach. He had killed more than one person in his arena, and he had been just a child back then, but her situation seemed different to him. Worse. She was only thirteen years old. Sixteen wasn't much older, but a world better.

No matter how much you drink, you'll never forget her name now. No matter how hard you try to forget, there'll always be that one other name. Elowen's name had a new meaning now. In District 12, people didn't talk much about the Hunger Games because there was nothing to talk about. Now people would talk for years, decades, about that one girl who had killed in the arena. Just like they had done with the few children before him. Just like they still occasionally talked about the girl who had once won the Hunger Games and then disappeared.

Haymitch looked around at the people who continued to crowd around him and talk to him, and spotted Effie trying to force her way toward him. Easier said than done. The Capitols, whether interested in 12 or not, were in a celebratory mood. More and more people filled the lounge, probably coming from the two floors above. They raised their champagne glasses and began to loudly sing along to the lyrics of whatever song a band was playing at that moment. It was too much. The blaring music, the cheering people, the tightly packed crowd. Even the light that had just been clear and bright was darkening and changing color. It was too much.

Effie must have left Seneca standing at the edge of the dance floor, where he had last seen them over the crowd of heads. In any other situation, he might have found it amusing. But now, Haymitch was having trouble breathing. His head was pounding like crazy. His vision was losing focus, and he could see black spots around the edges. His fingers had started to shake, and his heart was running a marathon in his chest.

Their eyes met across the colorful crowd. There was no joy in Effie's blue eyes. The expression on her face was a strange contrast to the Capitols who now surrounded her. Haymitch saw relief. Elowen was alive; she could only be relieved. But Effie knew the girl. She knew what this murder would do to her. The innocence on her young face had always been genuine. She had no idea how the world worked that had made her a murderer. But it went further than mere innocence: Effie was relieved because she knew that Elowen's lifeless body could just as easily have been lying by the stream.

"Alright, everyone, please take a step back," Effie called in a bell-like voice as she came to a stop beside him. Her fingers brushed against his as she turned to face the others. Haymitch searched her eyes, but she stared past him with a wide smile as if he wasn't even there.

Effie threw herself into the fray without hesitation. This was her territory. She shook hands that Haymitch had just shaken and let the babble of voices bounce off him by speaking first. She chatted with fans and sponsors, seemed to work through an invisible list of topics in her head and threaded in a few personal details when she thought it was the right moment. Effie was like a great shield that kept the Capitols away from him. They kept grabbing his hands, it was unavoidable, but she led the conversations. It allowed the oxygen to slip into Haymitch's lungs a little easier.

While a big party broke out around them and the odds slightly shifted in favor of District 12, two young, experimental sponsors agreed to support Elowen. With their money, Haymitch and Effie were able to send the girl medicine for her injured knee. Seneca's claim that the jungle was full of infectious bacteria hadn't yet come true, but Haymitch wasn't keen on tempting the odds like that. A third sponsor, a really old woman who reminded him of Mags, donated Elowen a backpack with a water container and some dry food in it. Although Haymitch detested the Capitol and all of those disgusting sponsors, he was glad that Elowen was taken care off. And yet he felt sick when he thought that only the death of this boy was responsible for their gifts.

The old sponsor said goodbye and disappeared into the roaring crowd. It was barely afternoon, and several people were already running around the room drunk and wild, as if it were the middle of the night and they were at a party that was just reaching its peak. Something in Haymitch's stomach clenched uncomfortably and he had to turn away from the bright, colorful lights to keep his contents down. The air was warm, stuffy and smelled so strongly of perfume that you would think someone had poured a huge bucket of cologne over the heads of the crowd.

Haymitch took a staggering step to the side, blinking in hopes of regaining his vision. His fingers were still shaking like crazy, and he wondered what was wrong with him. His own alcohol intake was doing nothing to calm his body. Someone hooked his arm, and he was about to shake the stranger's arm off when he met Effie's blue, worried eyes. Her touch was too warm, and only added to the sweat trickling down his neck. Haymitch couldn't tell what she saw on his face, but she didn't hesitate as she took the lead and pulled him out of the crowd. He followed her on staggering feet until they reached the exit of the lounge, but Effie didn't stop.

It was easier to breathe out here. The air was cooler and free of any scent. Through the huge window to their right, the sun shone brightly and relentlessly into the hallway. No flickering from disco machines, no artificial fog to rob Haymitch of his view. His body relaxed a little and he felt the sweat on his back sticking to his shirt. How could the men in there dance and celebrate in those thick suits without breaking a sweat? Knowing the Capitol, they had surely come up with something to solve that problem. Maybe an injection that deactivated your sweat glands? Or did people here just get them removed altogether? Who knew ...

Effie's grip on his arm had tightened, as if she feared he would lose his balance without her support. "You can let go of me," Haymitch said, trying to sound neutral. Instead, his voice sounded exactly how he hadn't wanted it to sound: weak, breathless, lost.

Effie ignored his words and seemed to move closer to him. Again, her heels were so high that her shoulder pressed against his. It was strange. Haymitch liked that she was shorter than him; liked leaning down to her and– Maybe he was drunker than he thought. After all, he had spent the whole morning with Chaff. That had to be it. Even if he could explain the dizziness, the loss of balance and the blurred vision, he didn't know what to make of the trembling of his fingers or the heat of his body.

You're scared, a voice whispered in his head, but as he often did, he ignored it. Listening to that voice usually only brought Haymitch closer to the ugly reality, and he couldn't do that right now. Not after what had happened to Elowen. Or not happened. Or after what she had done. The image of the girl standing in front of the dead boy with her wide green eyes was burned into his retinas. It made him stop abruptly. Effie stumbled as she was pulled back by his unmoving body, still linked with his arm. Haymitch's knees were shaking, and he felt like he was going to collapse at any second.

"Just a little further, Haymitch," Effie pleaded in a low voice. The fingers of her right hand framed his cheek while her left hand reached under his arm to keep him from falling to his knees. "Just around the corner and we're there."

Haymitch raised his head to look past Effie. They had reached the fork where he had pressed Petunia against the windows last night. His eyes slowly wandered to the hallway that continued to the left. He had no idea what was there, he had never been there. But he managed a quick nod and forced his body to put one foot in front of the other.

Effie headed for a door that was so white like the rest of the wall that it was barely visible. She pressed herself against it, making room for Haymitch to enter the room beyond. It was dark for a moment until Effie found the light switch, closed and locked the door behind her. She turned to Haymitch and gently stroked the hem of his suit.

"I thought you might want some peace and quiet. No one will disturb us here," she said, leaning against the closed door.

"What kind of room is this?" Haymitch asked in a hoarse voice, looking around. It had to be some kind of storage room, because there were several shelves with cleaning supplies on one side and it was just big enough for two or three other people to fit in without it being too cramped. The room had a dusty smell with a hint of citrus that must have come from the chemicals. The air had been more pleasant in the hallway, but this was still worlds better than the lounge.

Effie's lips lifted in a small, mischievous smile as she let her eyes wander around the room. She shrugged sheepishly. "Another escort told me about it. There are two more next door. Some come here when they ... well, you know, want some peace and quiet. And since you could use a moment of space as well, I brought you here."

Haymitch nodded curtly, grateful that no one could see him losing his composure. Except for Effie, but that was different. He didn't hesitate for long before he took off his suit jacket and threw it into the corner of the room. He pressed his back against the cool wall and closed his eyes to regain control of his erratic pulse. Effie moved, he could hear her heels moving away from the door and towards him. Her fingers gently brushed his hair back and Haymitch leaned into her skin. Feeling her presence calmed him and he was way past the point of being able to deny it.

"You are having a panic attack," Effie murmured, continuing to run her fingers through his hair, finding a comforting rhythm that he could focus his attention on.

"I drank too much," Haymitch denied, too proud to admit otherwise. "Chaff didn't let me do things halfway today."

Effie's fingers paused in his hair and Haymitch didn't have to open his eyes to know that she was tilting her head, probably struggling not to give him a dark look. "So you were with Chaff this morning then," she said in a neutral voice, but not managing to completely hide the caustic tone. "I was worried, Haymitch. First you disappeared off the face of the earth and then you show up in the lounge with a glass of whiskey where everyone can see you. Seriously, you should know better."

Haymitch wasn't sure if she was actually trying to discuss her anger or if she was trying to shift the focus of his thoughts to something else. The subject was less painful, so it helped. "How many times do I have to tell you that I can do whatever I want? You can't boss me around like a Peacekeeper. Be glad I'm not with Chaff more often."

His unspoken words hang in the air between them. Be glad I'm not with Chaff's more often. Like I usually am every other year. "But I'm really proud, sweetheart, for being able to recognize the whiskey from such a distance," he added, managing a half-grin. So she had indeed seen him when he had entered the sponsors' lounge and, offended and resentful as she was, had turned her head to avoid eye contact.

Effie huffed. "You are not the only person on this planet with access to alcohol, Haymitch. Besides, I am not bossing you around, I am merely reminding you of your duty."

The looming grin vanished from Haymitch's lips. He squeezed his eyelids tighter and turned his head to the side so that Effie was no longer right in front of him. It didn't change the fact that he could still feel her fingers in his hair. His stomach lurched again, and he suppressed a twitch. "You can see how I'm doing," he said in an empty voice. As if he were more dead than alive. "She's alive and I can't handle it. That's why I prefer to ignore this duty. Just wait until she dies and I don't have enough alcohol in me."

Now it was Effie who backed away from him as if she had been burned. Haymitch heard her take a sharp breath. He had hurt her on purpose to ease his own pain, even though it was now pounding no less strongly against the inner wall of his stomach. Slowly he opened his eyelids and glanced at Effie. She had lowered her chin, staring at a spot on the floor. Tears shimmered at the corners of her eyes and she pressed her yellow-orange lips together as if she was trying to swallow her feelings. Haymitch sighed.

"You know I didn't mean it, sweetheart," he whispered, turning his head back to her and stroking her cheek with his shaking fingers. "Well ... it was the truth, but maybe I should have phrased it... nicer."

"It's all right. You're upset about Elowen, and I understand that," Effie assured her, forcing a wide smile which appeared so fake that Haymitch wondered how he had ever thought her real smiles were fake in the beginning. She had always been honest with him; from the first minute they met. Even if she still tried to hide her true emotions behind that cheerful, enthusiastic mask. He wasn't as blind as the others in the Capitol. Most of the time he could see behind the mask, even if he often didn't dare.

Haymitch's shaking hands moved from her cheeks to her waist and he pulled Effie closer to him. She didn't protest, resting her arms lightly against his chest and looking up from the spot on the floor she had been staring at. The blue of her eyes was perfect. Like the sky; like the cornflowers in District 12; Haymitch couldn't quite decide. If temperament made it through her polite mask, there was this stormy sparkle in her pupils that he couldn't tear himself away from. When he looked into her eyes now, which regarded him with a mixture of melancholy and worry, they seemed brighter. Clearer. Haymitch had the feeling that if he lost himself in them too much, he could fall into them.

"She killed someone," Haymitch whispered, clearing his throat so Effie could hear the few words. He wrapped his arms around the lower part of her back, ignoring the scratchy fabric of her black dress that reminded him that this was just a fleeting moment between the Capitol and District. Never more than that.

"She survived," Effie replied in the same quiet tone, leaning her body against his. Only her head didn't touch Haymitch. She had pulled it back a little and regarded him, trying to muster a gentle smile. She failed. She looked sad. "She's alive. That's all that matters. She'll be able to handle the rest, and so will we."

"I killed three people in my arena," Haymitch said, almost choking under the weight of his words. For a split second, it wasn't Effie before his eyes, but the faces of the three lives he had taken. So he could survive. "I couldn't handle it. Look what I've become. The thought of her now sharing the same fate as me is ..." He could not find the words to describe what he felt. A horrible fear that tightened his throat. The chances of Elowen surviving were slim. So slim. Yet she was now a murderer. Just as he was a murderer.

"Haymitch." Effie's voice made him look up. He hadn't even noticed that he had bowed his head. Effie's hands cupped his cheeks. Her fingers ran soothingly over his cheekbones, smoothed his ruffled eyebrows, traced the lines of his lips. "You're not a bad person. You did what you had to do. I don't know anyone with as good a heart as you. You're good through and through and ... a part of me hates myself for not being able to be that good. I'm ashamed that I'm not better. If you're a bad person, what does that make me? I'm here voluntarily, remember?" Effie laughed a twisted laugh and could no longer look Haymitch in the eyes.

She had understood. The fog around Haymitch lifted a little and he raised his left arm to cup her chin in his fingers; to bring her eyes back to his. "You mustn't say things like that, Effie," he said with a newfound seriousness. "It's dangerous to say such things."

Effie nodded slowly, not avoiding his gaze. Haymitch didn't know how much Effie knew about the reality of the Capitol. She hadn't known the truth of the Hunger Games. She hadn't known the truth about the Gamemakers' independence. Nor about the prostitution. And yet she had already made it clear to him once that she wasn't entirely ignorant. Many people like to forget. What's the alternative, Haymitch?

Effie looked into his eyes and waited. Haymitch could feel her waiting for him. The panic in his limbs hadn't completely disappeared, but with her so close, he felt he could handle it easier. She didn't let him forget and the pain was still there, but it was lighter. Haymitch leaned toward Effie and kissed her.

Two people in a horrible world. On opposite sides of the clearly visible barrier that was supposed to separate them. Two lives that couldn't be more different. Two people who should despise each other, but somehow couldn't manage to do so because society's warnings didn't reflect the truth. Fabrications created to keep them apart. To prevent them from realizing how similar they actually were.

Effie kissed him back without pausing for a second. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed herself closer to him. Haymitch sucked in her breath and lost himself in a passion that seemed to freeze his mind. His fingers clutched at her dress, tracing up and down her back, while his lips brushed against hers, her tongue touched his, and he lost his grip on reality. He wanted to be closer to her, wanted to wrap his arms around her so tightly that he was sure he would never have to let go. Feeling her warm body under his hands drove him crazy.

A sigh escaped Effie's lips. She sighed his name and Haymitch felt her knees begin to wobble as she lacked the strength to keep herself upright. She staggered a little to the side as if she was now the one who was dizzy. Her voice made him forget where they were, that their work wasn't done for the day. He would have followed that gentle voice anywhere.

Haymitch drew another sigh from her, this time more surprised and excited, as he turned her in a passionate, impulsive move so that her back was now to the wall rather than his own. Effie wrapped her arms tighter around his neck, her nails digging into the fabric of his sweat-damp shirt as he grabbed her legs and hoisted her up. He pressed her body against the wall, and she automatically opened her legs to wrap them around his middle. All that and his lips hadn't even left hers. He could feel the smile forming on Effie's mouth and he pressed his harder against hers. Haymitch's muscles were electrified, and Effie was his source of energy.

A loud banging at the door made them both jump. Haymitch jerked his head to the side and set Effie's legs on the floor in a split second, but didn't move an inch away from her. He had to blink several times to see the outline of the door clearly in front of him. White dots danced in front of his vision, and he had to brace himself with one arm against the wall to remain standing. Effie still had her hands clasped behind his neck, so she automatically pulled him towards her.

There was another knock on the door and Effie stood up straighter. Her flushed cheeks stared at the moving metal as if she had just woken up from a dream, as if she didn't even know where she was. The giggles of two voices reached them, someone groaned and then something hit the door. Effie started to laugh to herself. "I locked the door," she whispered as quietly as she could.

"There's someone in there already," said a male, slurring voice. Silence. Someone else, probably a woman, gasped. Then the man spoke again. "Maybe the other room is still free." The giggling returned and then the patter of high heels could be heard as the two people moved away. A door slammed somewhere nearby.

"And I thought you were joking about peace and quiet," Haymitch muttered, shaking his head, half amused, half perturbed.

Effie laughed and leaned against the wall while she straightened her dress. "That is exactly what the escort told me. But the way things turned out, she was right after all."

"I guess she was," Haymitch murmured, grinning. He turned his back to the door again and placed his hands on the wall at the level of her face. Very slowly he leaned towards Effie, who was beholding him with a promising expression in her blue eyes. He was close enough that they could have kissed again, but neither of them moved.

Instead, Effie raised her right hand and ran her long fingers over the bare skin of his body, exposed by his shirt, which had come undone in the heat of the moment. Effie trailed her nails across his chest, up to the hollow of his neck, and over his shoulder blades. Haymitch held his breath and leaned into her almost instinctively. Where their skin met, his body responded with a burning pulse, as if she was setting him on fire.

Haymitch's eyes wandered over Effie's body, searching for something he could touch. All he saw was neon yellow tulle and artificial hair standing up in waves. The makeup on her face was so far from natural that he wondered how he could still feel drawn to her now. His mouth turned down automatically as he thought about it. Not even the open slit in her dress, which would have made it easy to touch her bare leg, stirred any excitement in him.

"You look awful," he said, his voice calm but the alcohol speaking through him. He was still so close to Effie that he could have touched her mouth with his without hesitation.

Effie, on the other hand, seemed suddenly not very interested in this fact from one second to the next. Her fingers paused on his shoulder, and she pushed away from him, a hint of dismay crossing her face before she closed herself off from Haymitch. He rolled his eyes theatrically and let go of the wall with one hand, pulling her back towards him. "You, princess, are gorgeous, but all of this ..." With his chin, he pointed at the tulle that stuck out from her shoulders. "It hides who you are and what you look like."

"That is the point," Effie remarked absently, but leaned more casually against Haymitch's chest. "And as much as I am glad you find me pretty, that is not the kind of beauty that is desired here."

Desired, not preferred. As if you had no choice but to go with the flow. Haymitch pushed the thought away and framed Effie's face with his hands. There was no trace of the trembling anymore. "Don't let them fill your head with such nonsense, sweetheart."

Effie gave him an almost uncertain look and tilted her head. She often did that when she was dissatisfied with something or deep in thought. Haymitch could feel her eyes moving over his face, touching it without leaving any real pressure on his skin. She swallowed, as if she was about to say something unpleasant. The hairs on the back of Haymitch's neck stood up.

"What is this, Haymitch?" Effie's voice sounded uncertain. Just as uncertain as Haymitch felt. "I ... like you a lot, but–"

Haymitch raised his hand to interrupt her. He didn't want to hear it. None of it. They couldn't deny that there was something between them. They both felt the connection, pulling at them like an invisible force wanting to keep them together. It didn't change the fact that he was District, and she was Capitol. No matter what they wished or felt. It would never change. It wasn't explicitly forbidden, but that wasn't even the point. The young victor had to think of Mags's words from earlier. Don't forget who they are. Effie was the enemy, even if neither of them wanted to admit it. She would always choose the Capitol, always justify her decisions, or ignore them; she would always rationalize them. The Games had thrown her off course for the moment, but that happened to most. None of the other escorts looked like they regretted their job. Effie would look the same in a few years when she realized the benefits it brought her. At the end of the day, money and power played a bigger role for the Capitol than morality. Effie would be the same once she got used to everything.

"Effie, we are–" Nothing. They were nothing. But the word wouldn't leave Haymitch's lips. He looked into her blue, honest, tender eyes and realized that he didn't want to be nothing to her. It was unreasonable. They had known each other for barely two weeks. The worst part of the whole thing was that Haymitch knew – deep in his gut that always told the truth – that Effie was different. What was he kidding himself about? She might give in to money and power to try to forget, as everyone did, but it wouldn't make her happy. She wasn't like the others. She was better and that would break her. "I don't know what we are."

For a long time, Haymitch and Effie just looked into each other's eyes. He could see that she was thinking, struggling with something, perhaps the same things as him. Finally, she slowly nodded, and a small smile spread across her orange lips. "Like I said, I like you. Our chemistry seems to be right. Do you want to try it out? See where it goes?"

Haymitch raised his eyebrows in confusion. Only a woman from the Capitol could ask such a question.

"It does not have to be anything serious," she added when she saw his look. "We just see what feels good and ... go with the flow."

"Have you ever done something like that before?" Haymitch asked, not knowing why he wanted to know. The way she phrased it sounded strange. Go with the flow. What was he, a fucking fish? She was probably just nervous, given she knew what he usually thought of Capitol women.

Effie shrugged. "Every now and then. I am young, I experiment."

"Then I'm curious about what's coming for me," he murmured.

"You know you can say No, right?" Effie looked at him somewhat skeptically, but then started to laugh. "It certainly will not break my heart."

"I don't want to say No," said Haymitch after a while of silence. He couldn't stay away from her anyway. And as long as they kept it casual, everything was fine in his opinion. Even Chaff couldn't get upset about that.

"Good, because I would have been a little disappointed," she admitted with a giggle and pressed her lips against his. Haymitch immediately returned the kiss but leaned back after briefly touching her soft skin.

"We should go back," he remarked, looking around for a clock. "We need to check on the children. I have no idea how long we've been in this chamber."

Effie's mouth turned in a pout, but she sighed and nodded. "You are right. I do not have a watch myself." She looked from Haymitch to the door as he moved away from her to pick up his suit jacket, which he had just carelessly thrown into the corner. "Are you well enough to go back in there?"

Haymitch nodded, buttoned the loose buttons on his shirt, and pulled his jacket over his shoulders. "I'm fine, sweetheart."

Effie approached him, ran her fingers along the hem of his shirt collar one last time, then straightened his tie, which was hanging completely askew. "How do I look?" she then asked. "Before you say something imbecile, I merely want to know if I look normal or like someone who has disappeared into a closet for an indefinite period of time to have some peace and quiet."

Haymitch grinned as his eyes scanned her from head to toe. "Your lipstick looks the same as always, so I'm assuming my own face is spared as well," he joked, adjusting Effie's dress at her waist and then looking up at the wig. "It might be a little crooked. A real shame, it was so pretty."

Effie sighed and looked up as if she could see the mop of hair towering above her. "Very well, I will leave the room first and see if the coast is clear. When I knock, you can come out."

"It's a good thing you didn't become a spy, sweetheart. You would have been a disaster." Effie pursed her lips and Haymitch bared his teeth at her in satisfaction. He buried his hands in the pockets of his suit trousers and waited for her to finally unlock the lock. "Go on, or are you going to stand here forever?"

Effie huffed, turned the latch and opened the door. She crept outside as if she really thought she was a secret agent and Haymitch had to pull himself together to keep from laughing out loud. Her figure disappeared and the door slammed shut. Haymitch waited and leaned against one of the shelves, counting the seconds until she gave the all-clear. After almost two minutes, she finally knocked on the door.