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English
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Published:
2024-08-02
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Drunken

Summary:

She doesn't drink that often

Notes:

Non-native eng

Work Text:

An eerie chill ran down his spine. It wasn't that he was afraid of her, he just knew her too well. If she wasn't in the mood, she was trouble. And her mood was hardly the happiest right now, nor was her position in the Capitol. There's a bounty on Miss Trinket's head now, too. If only because of that, she's ready to nail anyone to the wall right now.
The only thing keeping her from doing it is manners.

      Haymitch is on his way. And the closer he gets, the more her stomach twists. The man can't get his will into a fist and it makes him think he looks stupid from the outside. But luckily, no one got in the way.

      The door to her room is shut tight. Effie is clearly not expecting visitors tonight, but Coyne's orders need to be carried out immediately. The President had decided to gather everyone in the headquarters for a night out to discuss what to do next. After all, last night communication with the entire team, led by Kitniss, was lost. As soon as Coyne suggested that everyone was probably dead, Effie wouldn't listen to it: she jumped up from her chair and walked out of the headquarters. Yet another reason for Effie to be out of sorts.

      Mentor tapped his knuckles lightly on the iron door, hoping to hear a response to that action. But there was none. The man allowed the thought that Effie was asleep, but an inner restlessness prevented him from leaving it like that.

      He opened the door ajar, peering in. Effie, whose curls were streaming down her back, was dishevelled, her head lying on the table and her body on the floor in a slumped position. A chair rested upside down beside it. On the table was a bottle of doubtful contents. Even Haymitch, who knows all kinds of alcoholic beverages and other spirits, would have thought a hundred times before drinking this. The man arriving in a state of mild shock walked over the glass from the broken bottle, nearly slipping due to the alcohol spilling out.

      He came to the table and sat down so that he was level with Effie, then touched her shoulder with his palm and shook her, as Trinket had once done. There was no response, only an unintelligible mooing escaped her lips.

      Haymitch decided to test the alcohol first to see how strong it was, to gauge the strength of the effect on the capitol girl's mind. The mentor took the bottle in his hand, the liquid rippling at the bottom. However, even that was enough for Haymitch to immediately realise how strong and burning it was. His whole throat burned with fire. He wanted a drink of ice water, but there was none nearby. Spitting up the nasty mixture, Haymitch began to realise that he was nauseous. It had been too long since he'd had alcohol. Leaning against the wall, the man took a breath. Then, feeling more or less normal, he approached Effie again and tried to lift her up. The mentor could tell with certainty that the poor thing already had alcohol poisoning and should be taken to the hospital wing as soon as possible.

      - Let me go... - Effie screamed in a drunken delirium as she felt the man's hands on her.
      - Effie, damn you! Why did you drink so much? - Haymitch asked calmly, realising he wasn't going to get a coherent answer.
      - Wait a second, - Effie was hiccupping and barely able to stand on her feet, - you...are...saying that I...I...am...a bad drinker? Pfft! - laughed Trinket. - You're wrong!

      Haymitch picked up the intoxicated woman in his arms, trying not to shake the poor woman.

      - And you're handsome..." Effie squeaked, "d-do you want to have a brouderchaft?

      At that moment Effie threw up on the floor, hitting Haymitch's shirt.

      - Oops! - Trinket laughed again.

      Suddenly her body went limp and she instantly passed out.

      - Effie? - Haymitch called out to her, but she didn't respond.

      The man pressed two fingers against her neck artery, searching for a pulse that could barely be felt beneath the thin, pale skin.

      - You can't drink, Trinket! - whispered the mentor, opening the door with his foot, realising the fact that this woman could die in his arms at any moment.

***

      - You may pass, Mr Abernathy. She's regained consciousness. - The nurse stepped aside, letting the agitated Haymitch pass.

      Effie rested quietly, unmoving, on the bed, covered by a white blanket. Her face was painfully pale and her lips were tightly compressed. She was staring at the ceiling, quietly inhaling the smell of medical supplies.

      Haymitch walked leisurely to the bedside, never taking his gaze away from her empty eyes. There was no emotion on her face. It was the first time in his life he'd ever seen her like this. He couldn't believe that this was the same Trinket whose smile never left her face. In fact, she had a completely different feeling in her soul that she had been hiding somewhere deep inside her until now.

      - Effie, how are you?

      The woman silently, without any unnecessary sounds or gestures, turned her head towards the speaker. Her eyes immediately glistened with tears, and a smile appeared on her lips. She studied the man, then reached out her hand to his arm.

      - They told me I was dying. And if it hadn't been for you," Effie was silent for a moment, then continued. - Thank you.
      - Just tell me why. - The mentor asked quietly.
      - I couldn't put the Tributes' lives in danger again," Effie whispered. - It had happened too many times. I can't take their blood anymore. I can't watch Kitniss, Pete, Joanna, Finnick die. It's got to stop.
      - They're alive, Effie," Haymitch smiled, squatting down next to the blood. - 'They'll be home soon. The war will be over.
      - Mr Abernathy! - came the nurse's voice. - She needs to rest.

      Haymitch gave a final smile and a sly wink and said quietly:

      - We'll have another brudershirt with you.