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"I'll go talk to him," Peeta said, rising and leaving Katniss alone in the common area of the train. Haymitch's talk hadn't gone as well as he'd hoped.
He'd been able to tell enough about Haymitch from his smell alone, but being pressed into his chair by the man's foot had caught him off guard. He steeled himself for the worst as he headed to the man's room.
Peeta slid open the room door and grimaced when his hand knocked into something wet. Leave it to Haymitch to also leave half-finished drinks around his space.
"Haymitch?"
The room was larger in comparison to the common area, but both were larger than Peeta's entire house and bakery. The scale of everything on the train left both shock and a hollow feeling in his chest that he couldn't quite describe. They hadn't even reached the Capitol and already the rooms were larger than he ever could have imagined.
When Peeta had heard his name called at the Reaping, the world seemed to shift out of focus and it was someone else's legs that had climbed the stairs to the podium. It had been someone else that had said goodbye to his mother. And even now, Peeta felt outside of himself, unsure how to handle this situation.
He'd seen what alcohol could do, but with rations and the careful rations of District 12, alcohol was a rarity. But here in this small train car, the smell was enough to nearly feel as if he had a few drinks of his own.
As he blinked in the darkened room, he could finally make out the man's frame as it was draped over the chair and floor. His hand was in a spilled puddle of some dark liquid, with bits of melting ice around it.
"Haymitch?"
Peeta found himself climbing carefully over Haymitch's frame enough to crouch down to pat the man's cheek. The smell of sweat, stale alcohol, and stale food made Peeta's eyes water and although baths were fewer and farther between in 12, Peeta was sure it had been weeks since Haymitch bathed.
"Mmm, if you're here for advice, don't bet on it," the man's voice came, clear but slurred and raspy.
Peeta was shocked he could complete a sentence.
"You're here to train us," he replied. "We could use any information you have." Peeta wasn't sure who we was, as Katniss hadn't even looked his way since boarding the train, but it felt safer to include her.
"I have nothing to say except get me another drink," Haymitch replied. "Something cold. Something straight."
A flash of anger burst through Peeta and he stood. "You sit here hiding away like a coward," he spat. "And you think you're better off leaving us to die, but that's not true."
Haymitch blinked at him and Peeta could see his blue eyes in the darker room. They were cloudy and annoyed. His anger dissipated as fast as it came on, melting into hardened pity. Even so, Peeta had come into this disheveled room for a reason.
"We need your help." He lowered his voice. "I know I'm going to die. But Katniss? She might win this thing. Don't you want to be the person who leads her? Mentors her?"
Haymitch's eyes blinked slowly. "There's more to you than I thought," he said finally. He pushed himself to sit up and blinked dizzily. "But I'm hungover and don't want to do anymore chit-chatting." He rubbed his temples and burped silently.
"Fine, but I'm not leaving this doorway until you've at least made it back to your feet." He was glad he was closer to the doorway and away from the stale bar smell. "Then shower and meet us back in the common area."
Haymitch groaned and rolled his eyes.
Peeta stood his ground.
After ten long minutes, Haymitch grumbled something in heated annoyance and sat up, then stood up. He reached for the half-finished drinks near the door.
Peeta grabbed it and shook his head. "I think you've had enough."
"There's no such thing," Haymitch snorted, but bypassed Peeta and headed to the showering rooms.
Peeta waited patiently in the common room and after a half hour of silence, he finally stood up to go check on Haymitch. He hadn't even made it halfway to the bathrooms when he could hear the sound of someone being violently sick. When Peeta drew closer, he could hear another deep cough followed by another round of vomiting.
So he didn't drown in another drink after all.
Peeta carefully knocked on the door. "Haymitch? Are you alright in there?"
There were a few spitting sounds, a shaky voice responded. "You killed my buzz," Haymitch called, his voice with a slight echo that sounded like he was speaking from inside the toilet. A few minutes later, though, the shower started.
Another half hour later, Haymitch stumbled out, his hair dripping and his face pale and drawn.
Peeta stood to help him walk, but the man waved him off.
"I'm just hungover. Nothing that a drink can't fix," Haymitch said, and stumbling another step towards the common area. He caught himself before he fell and hiccupped. In an instant, which Peeta found surprising in his current drunken state, Haymitch reached for the empty ice bucket, retched once and threw up into the empty ice bucket. He leaned heavily against the wall of the train between gags.
Peeta did his best to not look disgusted, and instead, helped the man to stand up. "Maybe laying down first would be better," Peeta amended. It didn't look like the man could stand, let alone mentor anyone in his current state.
At this, Haymitch said nothing but allowed Peeta to lead him back to his room.
Peeta felt odd leaving Haymitch in his disorganized room, but the man collapsed onto his bed and instantly, his eyes slipped shut.
Peeta sighed and closed the sliding door, but not before Haymitch called something from his bed. It was muffled by pillows and drunkenness, but had that same clarity as before.
"Tomorrow morning at breakfast. We'll talk then."