Keeping A Promise
"Haymitch?" Effie wasn't sure if it had been a good idea to try to act on her promise immediately. Not that it was too late, but she didn't know Haymitch and his sleeping habits. And he hadn't seemed completely sober at dinner.
To her surprise, he responded instantly. The groan was loud and made Effie feel unwelcome, but that didn't matter. Her own feelings had no place during her duty hours. "Do you have a minute?"
"No," came the simple reply, and Effie sighed inwardly – anything else would have been unacceptable.
And for the second time in a day, Effie now found herself talking to a closed door. Something like this had never happened to her before. "I am asking you, its really important to me." She had to make an effort to keep her voice friendly. She had to get along with Haymitch if she wanted to create a pleasant working environment in the long run. Given Haymitch's lack of interest in cooperation, this would prove difficult. For Effie, who never shied away from a challenge, it meant she would have to work harder than usual.
"That means I'd better stay away from it," Haymitch replied from somewhere in his room.
"Haymitch," Effie almost hissed in anger, which surprised her the most. Usually, nothing fazed her – at least by Capitol standards. But Haymitch Abernathy ... she didn't know how to read him, how to find any common ground with this man upon which to build anything. This unknowing frustrated her. "It is about the children. Open the door now! It is important, and if you continue to act in such ignorant manner, things will soon be different around here."
"Is that a threat?" Haymitch asked, and then the door buzzed before opening. His dirty blond hair appeared at the doorframe, and he tilted his head, eyebrows raised as he scrutinized her. "Because if it is, you really need to work on your commanding tone. It's nonexistent."
Despite his teasing, Effie gave him a broad triumphant smile. "May I come in?" When Haymitch furrowed his brow in response, questioning why that would be necessary, she explained herself. "One does not discuss business in a hallway," she added with an undertone that clearly indicated he should have known this himself. "After all, we are civilized, are we not?"
Haymitch sighed inwardly and stepped aside to let Effie in. She couldn't help but notice the wrinkled shirt – not the one he had worn to the Reaping. Judging by the stains around the collar, he had spilled a drink or two. Disgusting. "I shouldn't have opened the door," he muttered more to himself than to her. "Amidst all the joy of finally getting rid of the dragon, I completely forgot how annoying you Capitols are."
The indignant comment Effie had on the tip of her tongue to reprimand his outrageous behavior died along with her smile as she tiptoed into Haymitch's room. "What in Panem's name is going on here?!" she nearly shrieked.
Effie's high-pitched voice made him flinch, but she was too shocked by the chaos before her eyes to care about her own misconduct. Haymitch looked around the room, confusion evident on his unshaven face. His apparent cluelessness only made things worse. Did he not even see the mess? It would explain how things had gotten this bad in the first place. His dirty clothes from 12 lay on the floor, along with two more T-shirts he had already stained with alcohol. His bed was untidy, and the duvet hung more on the floor than on the bed. Not to mention the countless glasses, some still filled with colorful liquids.
Haymitch shrugged as if this was nothing out of the ordinary, as if this was just another day, and that actually scared Effie. Even though she shouldn't have been particularly surprised, after all, she had always imagined a District resident just like this. Unhygienic and uncultured. But it was another thing altogether to see this image confirmed in reality, especially after her upbringing. In the Capitol, the fact that the Districts were less civilized was no secret. Yet she had at least expected more decency from a victor who knew the benefits of the Capitol.
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.
Disgusted, she narrowed her eyes and turned her head to the side. "No wonder your room smells like a distillery," she said accusingly, as if alcohol were a sin she had never committed. "Do you drink that straight?"
Oh, the innocent light Effie was trying to cast herself in. Haymitch regarded her with a skeptical look, furrowing his brows. He could imagine exactly what kind of drinker Effie Trinket was. She was the type who indulged in the occasional drink for the sake of enjoyment. His best evidence: her glass of red wine earlier at dinner. "Let me guess, sweetheart," he leaned back, scrutinizing her with his cold, indifferent eyes and smiling mockingly. "You prefer cocktails instead of the hard liquor because they give you a sense of social acceptance. You find the sparkling juices and colorful umbrellas aesthetic and chic, you'd even let yourself be photographed with them. Yet you shun a glass of vodka because it's uncouth and only drunkards would drink stuff like that. Because you consider yourself better than that. And that, even though both have the same alcohol concentration at the end of the day."
On the other hand ... as she grimaced in response to his remark, of course unhappy with his statement, she appeared to him more like one of those women who always maintained a good image in the public eye, only to reveal a dark side once the Capitol clubs opened their doors in the evening. Those women who threw themselves at any man and swallowed colorful pills because it was the only way they felt they could escape the strict upbringing of their parents.
"Hmm," Effie began in a thoughtful tone, carefully placing the glass back in its place with precision, as if she had realized that the glasses – unlike the mess on the floor – actually followed an order that she just didn't understand. "Or maybe I just prefer the taste of cocktails over vodka. Is that option up for debate, or are you so entrenched in your prejudices that you did not even consider it?"
Effie turned back to face him, and Haymitch was surprised to find her smiling at him. Despite the bait of disdain and arrogance he had thrown her way. The blue of her irises seemed too bright for the darkness of his room; the determination and motivation gleamed in them so tangibly as Petunia's never could have.
"Am I right?" Haymitch inquired, the accusation in his words no longer audible.
Effie, wearing an equally stable mask on her face as he did, moved toward him with slow, calculated steps. She was difficult to read. It seemed to him that every expression on her features was meticulously thought through before Effie approved it. A perfect robot meant to convey the illusion of emotions, but never actually feeling them. The artificial smile around her lips softened, and for a moment, a hint of dissatisfaction flickered across her pupils.
"Perhaps," she finally conceded, and Haymitch couldn't even tell anymore if she was being sincere or simply letting him hear what he wanted to hear.
"Is there any other reason you felt the need to disturb my peace at this late hour? No offense, we can certainly continue our discussion about your favorite cocktail, but perhaps at a more appropriate time?" In an exaggerated motion, Haymitch glanced at his watch. Technically, it wasn't really late yet, but he knew enough Capitols to know how to appeal to their indoctrinated sense of propriety. Nothing amused Haymitch more than watching Capitols bump up against the barriers of their own manners.
Effie Trinket was no exception. And although he had brought up the alcohol, she swallowed his unspoken implication without protest. Anything else would have been rude, after all. Haymitch had to suppress a grin as she looked up, surprised, and paused in her movement. "Oh, forgive me. Of course, I came with an intention," she managed to say, regaining her composure. Her focused gaze fixed on something behind him, and she took a deep breath. "What do you think about Elowen?"
A frustrated sigh escaped Haymitch as he downed the rest of the golden liquid from his own glass. Weary, he closed his lids to collect his thoughts. Effie surely hadn't come just because of this girl, had she? She was definitely overshooting with her feigned engagement. Sometimes less was more. But most Capitols understood nothing of that, which was why they were so easy to see through.
Even less comprehensible to him was why she focused all her empty efforts on the girl instead of the boy. That would have been at least somewhat more credible. They both knew that Elowen didn't stand a chance of coming out of the arena alive. Or even surviving the Cornucopia. Anyone with two eyes in their head knew that. Even a blind person knew that.
"This has to be a joke, right?" Haymitch's voice sounded far from amused; it carried a grim undertone. For her age and experience, she's got a lot of confidence, he thought to himself, feeling irritated.
Offended, Effie grimaced and arched her back fully as she now loomed over him in full stature. "This is no joke, Haymitch. This is serious."
"Go and fool someone else," he shot back. The desire for a verbal duel with her had vanished within seconds. Seconds in which she had reminded him why he despised the Capitol so much. Haymitch fixed his gaze on the empty glass, which he moved back and forth in his hand. "Whatever you're trying to achieve with this visit, it won't work. We both know you don't really want to make the effort. She's not worth it." The girl isn't worth your time. Haymitch knew Effie thought it, even though she was damn good at painting a different picture with her expression.
"Would you please stop trying to frame me for misdeeds all the time?" Effie exclaimed with a very uncapitol-like snort, and Haymitch could hear a hurt tone in her voice. Caught up in her feigned theatrics, he rolled his eyes. With Strategy 1 not working, she moved on to Strategy 2. "All day long, you are talking about how little sense it makes to even bother with the tributes. The way you treated Ramon today, I hardly believe you ever really tried!"
Haymitch was slowly getting angry himself. With a skillful movement of his hand, he pushed the glass onto the windowsill and lifted his head so she could see his eyes. This woman had no right to talk about him like that. Who did she think she was? She had no idea what he had seen. He didn't help the tributes because he had learned from years of experience. She would soon find out herself if she had even an ounce of compassion. "Effie Trinket," he sneered darkly, glaring at her with fury. He had to clench his jaw to keep himself from hurling the first insult at her that came to mind. "Thinks she knows more than the damn victor after just one day. You haven't got the slightest fucking clue about anything, so you better shut your mouth. It's for your own good, because not everyone is as lenient as I am." If she spoke like that in front the other victors, someone would eventually punch her in the face.
Outraged, Effie blinked at him. Judging by her appearance, no one had ever silenced her before. But as self-assured as she spoke, surely many had at least thought about it. She had only been in his room for maybe fifteen minutes, and he was already longing for the moment when she would finally shut up. "Watch your language!" Effie pressed out in a mixture of suppressed agitation and forced politeness. Haymitch sighed. She was Capitol through and through. "I would appreciate it if we could maintain a respectful attitude toward each other despite all your unfounded differences. You are right, it is my first day as an escort today. However, that is no excuse not to give one hundred percent from the start. And in my opinion, both tributes need to be treated equally, regardless of their chances," she continued, with each word climbing up an octave, clearly offended by his outburst.
"Oh, and who exactly, in your opinion, is being favored here?"
"I mean, just because Roman clearly has higher chances, we shouldn't leave Elowen out ..." Effie seemed to struggle for the right words, which Haymitch found strangely fascinating. The way her way of speaking suddenly changed, as if she were speechless for the first time. Unless that was also a trick. "I mean, even if our support doesn't significantly improve her chances, she should at least feel like we've done everything humanly possible to help her."
Suddenly, silence prevailed. For the first time since their encounter this morning, Haymitch truly looked at her. For the first time since their brief moment on stage, he didn't let Effie's words bounce off his armor heedlessly. She had expressed something he had never heard from a Capitol before. Something that almost made him pause uneasily, because it sounded so wrong coming from her mouth, even though it was nothing but right. Because the Capitol didn't think such things, let alone say them. "Why is that?"
As the expression on Effie's face changed this time, Haymitch watched closely. It looked like astonishment, as her mouth seemed to open slightly. Her eyelids widened further, as if his statement shocked and confused her at the same time. "She has to go into the arena, Haymitch," Effie snapped at him, as if he were a slow-witted idiot; her voice so angry that he actually flinched. He almost took a step back. For someone who was criticizing his behavior, she was behaving like a raging storm herself. He wasn't sure if she even noticed. "We– Or at least I can't justify sending her in there without any preparation. We owe it to her."
She was persistent, no question. Her attitude towards things, whether true or feigned, surprised him. Haymitch still didn't believe that she had personal interest in the two tributes, but even if she was just pretending, it was more than Petunia had ever shown. Something he could definitely live with.
"I'm not sure if we can help Elowen," he finally admitted after a while of silence. He was careful not to let any emotion slip into his voice. Effie didn't need to know that her words had stirred something in him. The way he assessed her, she would store it away and use it against him in the future.
"I am asking you, Haymitch," said Effie, in a tone suspiciously close to ... pleading. At the same time, she took a step towards him. Haymitch looked down at her, into her sparkling blue eyes, and damn ... She was a master at using them to her advantage. "I cannot go to her and explain that we do not see any hope for her, can you?"
Haymitch couldn't grasp why Effie suddenly took this girl to heart. Capitols weren't like that. There had to be something else. Something he had overlooked so far or didn't understand without context. But as she stood before him, pleading for his help, he couldn't simply refuse. After all, she was asking him for support with a tribute. Even though it was difficult for him, and every fiber of his being wanted to reject it to spare himself the pain, it would be cowardly and simply wrong. Then he wouldn't be any better than the Capitol itself. The fact that it was a woman from the Capitol who led him to this decision made it even more grotesque. He couldn't figure out this Effie Trinket ...
"I'll think of something," Haymitch finally conceded with a sigh, rubbing his nose bridge.
The corners of Effie's mouth shot up immediately. Unlike before. More natural and relaxed. "Thank you so much!" Her voice jumped several octaves in joy. She took a step towards Haymitch and raised her arms as if she wanted to hug him. But as she seemed to realize what she was doing, she quickly lowered them again and forced her features into a more controlled version.
Did she just drop her mask? Haymitch smirked involuntarily. This evening was getting more and more grotesque ... "Relax, sweetheart."
"My apologies." But the smile on her lips didn't fade.
"Seriously, couldn't this have waited until tomorrow?" Haymitch grumbled, turning slowly towards the door, eager to finally have his well-deserved peace.
"Absolutely not," she replied as if on cue. "I could not let Elowen wait. She reached out to me, and my duty as an escort is to do everything humanly possible to give her the best chances!"
As beautiful as her words sounded, Haymitch had rarely seen Petunia stand up for any tributes. All the more surprised, Haymitch paused in his movement and scrutinized Effie with raised eyebrows. "She talked to you?"
Effie nodded, and it was evident how she drew pride from his astonishment. "After dinner. After that, I immediately sought you out."
This woman was truly persistent. In a positive sense, as Haymitch had to admit in that moment, against his will. It was impressive that she had acted immediately. That she had taken care of it at all instead of giving the girl an empty promise. As if she truly cared about what happened to Elowen.
Maybe she does care, crossed his mind, but he dismissed the thought immediately. It didn't make sense. Most likely, Effie saw some chance to boost her ego in her or gain more fame. That's how Capitols were. Every action of theirs was calculated, with the long-term plan that it would ultimately benefit themselves. And Effie Trinket was certainly no exception.
-
Please tell me what you think! :)
Skyllen