An Era Awakens - Effie and Haymitch

4. Keeping A Promise

Petunia warned you, a quiet voice in her head rebuked.

"What on earth is that dreadful smell?" Effie asked frantically, holding her hand over her nose with tear-filled eyes. She would have liked to open a window, but it was impossible on the train.

Effie was the epitome of order. This behavior was ingrained in everyone in the Capitol from birth. Order was a cornerstone of their society. How could one manage the tumult of everyday life if they couldn't even tame it in their own four walls? She couldn't help but wonder if less value was truly placed on order in the Districts, or if Haymitch was simply an outlier. After all, she knew not all victors were like him.

"You can leave if you prefer, sweetheart," remarked Haymitch, sinking into his chair on the edge of the chaos. It truly didn't seem to bother him, as a glance at his features informed her. He almost seemed amused, as if he were mocking her reaction.

Bewildered, Effie shook her head and fixed her eyes on him with a warning intensity. "Please do not call me sweetheart," she demanded, a hint of sharpness in her otherwise polite voice. They hadn't known each other for five minutes yet when Haymitch had already called her that for the first time, and she wasn't a fan of demeaning nicknames. She knew exactly what he intended with them, what feeling he wanted to convey: He wanted her to feel inferior to him. A tactic that apparently didn't seem to be limited to Capitol men alone. And Effie wouldn't allow anyone to treat her condescendingly. Because if she gave in even once, it would leave room for repetition. "My name is Effie, and I want you to use it.

"I'll call you whatever I want," Haymitch promptly shot back, and the contemptuous tone accompanying his widening grin made it clear that he was very aware of the power of that nickname. The fact that it bothered her was nothing but a joke to him.

But to Effie's own amusement, his grin vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she started picking up the clothes from the floor and carrying them to the bathroom. "What are you doing?" he asked grimly when she returned and took his bedsheet in her hand.

For a moment, she stared at him, puzzled, wondering if he truly didn't know what cleaning up meant. Judging by the expression on his face, he seemed to revel in the chaos. A polished, detached smile lifted the corners of Effie's mouth. "How does it look for you, Haymitch? I will have an Avox assigned to clean up after you daily from now on. Obviously, you cannot maintain the order that a man of your age should be capable of. I am just ensuring that your negligence does not affect our work."

From the corner of her eye, Effie noticed Haymitch's eyes widen. She could barely contain the smirk tugging at her muscles as he opened his mouth, only to close it speechless. If there was one thing Effie knew, it was that most men couldn't stand having their masculinity questioned. And so, he let her tidy up his room in a quick sweep to a more suitable state.

oOo

This woman knew how to win arguments, Haymitch had to admit to himself as he watched Effie Trinket tidy up behind him. It surprised him that she hadn't immediately called the Avox instead of humiliating herself by picking up his things. Inexplicably, he also had to admit that her cleaning spree, coupled with her insult packaged in fancy words, did indeed chip away at his ego.

It was so typical of the Capitol to meddle in his affairs and lecture him in all their superiority. As if they had invented the word 'order'. Of course, he could be tidier if he wanted to. But Haymitch didn't see the point. In his house in 12, he mostly just lounged around and vegetated. He had no reason to be orderly. So why bother starting now?

As the rest of the room returned to a passable state, Effie wandered over to the windowsill and inspected the glasses arranged there, stacked and placed one on top of the other. She carefully lifted one of them with two fingers and weighed it lightly in her hand, inspecting it with her arm outstretched to maintain a safe distance between herself and the glass. The attentive, almost uncertain expression on her face amused him after all. Even from his armchair, Haymitch could see the remnants of a blue liquid. When Effie lifted the glass to her lips, he momentarily thought she was going to drink the stuff and sat up in surprise. But she seemed to only want to smell it.