[ON HOLD] MASTERMIND ✷ Haymitch Abernathy

06.

✷ the overthorn
estate, the capitol

part 01/03

     Devis knew how to throw a party.

The halls of the Overthorn estate were dimly lit, a quiet elegance found in its polished, wood paneled walls and tiled floors. It was nothing like the Presidential Palace. Guests kept their voices low, the occasional drunken giggle echoing through the first floor of the house.

     Haymitch brushed past guests, portraits on the walls glaring down at him accusingly, as if three generations of Overthorns knew he was harboring some kind of nasty secret. He was on a mission—one he'd given himself.

     Victoria had snuck off as soon as they'd gotten there, which wasn't a surprise to Haymitch. She had her agenda, he had his. Still, there was something about it—a glimpse into the type of lifestyle Victoria led, and one he'd lead if he ended up in the Capitol after the Games.

     What was the point of a party if it wasn't to celebrate anything?

     But, "we're going," Victoria had insisted the day before. "Devis is your biggest Sponsor, and his friends will all be there—everyone from your Training, if you get what I'm puttin' down. Time's running out to make an impression, kid."

     The Overthorn Haymitch bumped into in the drawing room wasn't really the one he wanted to make an impression on that night.

     "Haymitch!" Devis clasped him on the shoulder, shaking him a little. There was enthusiasm—and a little too much tonic—showing in his eyes. He took a generous sip from his glass, as if to drive the point home. "We were just talking about you."

     The group Devis was holding court with were lavishly dressed. A few faces looked familiar—from his Training. If they were here, laughing and drinking with Devis, maybe he could start the Games off with a leg up. Maybe he could actually win, after all. Not just survive.

"Good things, I hope."

"Why wouldn't they be? I've been hearing your name everywhere I go. You made quite a splash at your Training." Devis made introductions for him, and Haymitch tried to remember all the little tricks Victoria taught him, when to nod and laugh and when to just listen.

     A drink was thrust into his hand, and he felt rude not to try it. It was sweet, fruity, unlike anything he'd tasted before.

     He was two drinks deep when something caught his eye, moving through to the other room and starting to climb the staircase: a floral gown with hand-sown beads, not unlike a dress that had been piled in Reed's arms back in Rowan's studio.

     "If you'll excuse me...for a minute." Haymitch hurried towards the stairs. Above, on the second floor landing, was Daisy, her dark hair spilling down her shoulders, littered with flowers. She was a goddess. It was the only logical explanation. "Daisy!"

     Daisy turned to look at him, dark hair framing her face, flowers woven in throughout. Her expression brightened. "Oh, hello, Haymitch. It's lovely that you could come."

     Daisy went into a parlor on the second floor. The crowd was a little younger, sitting around and talking over drinks. Daisy found a spot on a sofa, her gown flaring out like a budding blossom as she sat.

     "Daisy, I—" Haymitch searched for the right words. The drinks had gotten to his head. He was lighter, fuzzy. He barreled ahead with a surge of confidence: "I think we got off on the wrong foot. You're so incredible, and I—I just want us to be friends. Do you...think less of me?"

     Daisy took his hand in hers. His was calloused in comparison, a miner's hand. Everything about Daisy was soft. Perfect.

She traced his palm with her thumb, exploring every valley and crevice. "I think you are very interesting. I've never met anyone from the Districts before, besides Victoria. I could never think less of you, Haymitch." He loved how the corners of Daisy's mouth crinkled when she smiled. "And, before you say anything—I thought it was brave of you to protect your friend like that...during your Training."

     There was a near physical weight lifted off his chest. "Really?"

     Daisy nodded, her thumb trailing up to his wrist, stopping there. "Really. Loyalty is rare. I wouldn't know what to do if something like that happened to one of my friends. I guess I'm just not as brave as you are."

     Hell, yeah, I'm brave, Haymitch thought. Daisy's words...the liquid courage in his blood—in that moment, he could have taken Calista on five times over.

     "Would you like to meet them?" Daisy promoted. "My friends?"

     Daisy's friends were a little strange. They all talked about things he didn't understand, Capitol Stuff. School and fashion and what they liked to watch on TV—besides the Games, of course.

     Mundane, but things he'd never get to experience.

     He envied them. None of them had nearly frozen during the winter, or worked in the dark, on jobs with adults twice their age, just to afford medicine for their sick mother.

     They'd never laid in a hand-stuffed mattress, unable to sleep, hunger gnawing at them.

     One girl stood out, and it was hard for her not to. She had thick, blonde hair and a dress with butterflies on it. (Haymitch swore a few of them moved, but that could've been the drinks playing tricks.) She sat right next to him in a chair that, honestly, was only meant for one person.

     The blonde girl put her hand on his arm and kept it there, leaning in to whisper in his ear. The group had started some card game Haymitch didn't know the rules to, so he opted to watch. "...Are you really from the Districts?" she wondered.

     "Yeah." Haymitch snagged an unclaimed drink from the table and took a generous sip. Whatever the sweet stuff was had to be pure, social magic. The conversation came easier. "District 12. I'm Haymitch."

     The blonde smelled like fruit and sugary candy. Haymitch felt her breath on his skin as she spoke, her fingers digging into the sleeve of his borrowed suit jacket. "I'm Effie."

     Maybe it was his...third...fourth...drink, or how Effie giggled as she played with his hair, insisting it would look good if he let it grow out a bit, or her irresponsible scent, or something else entirely, but he found his lips pressed firmly against Effie's.

     How strange it felt, to kiss a girl he'd just met—or kiss anyone at all. Love back home, in the Seam? You were lucky to have it and even luckier to keep it. People in the Capitol gave of themselves frequently. Dating, flirting, relationships—it held a different kind of power back home. It meant something.

Haymitch didn't know how long they stayed like that, kissing on the sofa, together a little safe bubble of Effie's sweetness and the warmth of the drink in his stomach. By the time they parted for air, Daisy's friends were gone.

And so was Daisy.

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