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Effie was in a very bad mood. On days like these, coffee saved her. Freshly brewed, with nutty notes and a subtle creamy aftertaste from the coffee foam covering the fragrant drink. The mere memory of this miraculous smell caused Effie to have painful feelings.
It was strange, gray and damp in District 13. She opened her eyes wearily and stared aimlessly at the ceiling. A hundred thoughts were spinning in her head, starting with how she got here, ending with the same coffee. She did not want to leave her "prison cell" because her appearance was far from perfect. From how she used to see herself in the mirror. Fortunately, there were no mirrors in these rooms, except for the toilet and showers.
Plutarch, who came to her yesterday, quickly made it clear what the rules are here, as did Alma Coin, who named herself president. Effie could tell by her face how glad she was to see the Capitoline diva in her underground palace. Well, her friendly voice differed from the expression of outright arrogance on her face, but as always, she greeted the future leader (according to Plutarch) Panem in a relaxed manner. Her style, of course, left much to be desired. Trinket barely restrained herself from betraying her dissatisfaction with the strict rules in the "kingdom of gray mice". However, she did not fail to mention the lack of coffee, as if by the way.
"This isn't the Capitol,— Coin said expectantly. "Everyone is equal, everyone contributes to the future of Panem, Miss Trinket. Each. Even you, when the time comes.
Effie pursed her lips and smiled tightly before Alma turned on her sharp heels and strode away. Trinket had no idea what it meant when the time came, but she didn't give it too much thought. You never know what kind of political games this woman in gray could have started. It was hard for Trinket to admit it, but she was actually much safer here than in the Capitol.
There's a knock on the door. Effie sat down on the bed and adjusted her turban.
— Come in! Trinket said loudly, expecting to see anyone but Plutarch.
"Hi," Haymitch greeted in his usual manner. — I brought you something. Everything that I managed to take with me.
He was holding glasses in his hands, with dark frames and pink lenses, and something bulky that looked like an overlock. Looking closer, Effie realized that this was him. The colors of the dusty rose are so loved by the Capitol diva.
—Jesus, Haymitch! Trinket gasped, quickly closing the distance between them. — How did you...?
Like a little child, she almost threw herself on his neck, kissed him on the cheek and immediately smiled, embarrassed.
"I'm ready to bring you your stuff every day for that," Haymitch laughed. — Just let me put this damn thing on the table.
—Overlock, yes,— Effie Trinket corrected softly.
Haymitch went into the room and put what he thought was a huge piece of shit on a seemingly flimsy table. Fortunately, he survived.
— I also brought some fabric, only it's gray like everything else here, but you might need it. Haymitch pulled a crumpled cotton cloth from somewhere in his bosom.
Effie gingerly touched the fabric, as if afraid of wrinkling it even more. She carefully took it out of Haymitch's hands and, accompanied by his obviously pleased look, carried it to the bed.
Hem it here, shorten it here, and in a couple of places you can improvise along the way. The only thing missing was a bright and eye-catching accessory. Fortunately, Haymitch brought it too. Rose-tinted glasses, a dark gray turban and a future cotton cape would contrast perfectly with the local order, and for some reason Trinket did not care at all. She had no intention of wasting away here in this prison cell and pretending to be a sufferer. Besides, she loved Katniss too much to turn away from her like that when she needed her so much.
Effie was brought here in a cropped pink dress with a transparent lining. Narrow at the top and loose at the bottom, it somehow resembled a bud of a pleasant-looking rose. She had to take it off almost immediately upon arrival. It was not easy to accept new orders and a new president when you always felt outside politics, but as it turned out, you were always a part of it.
And yet Trinket obeyed, despite the long arguments with herself. She always believed that people were greeted after all by their clothes and were escorted by them. But as it turned out, there is simply no one to demonstrate their individuality in front of, because it was not appreciated and was not encouraged here. At first it was a kick in the gut, but Effie got used to it pretty quickly and realized that she would be able to show her individuality contrary to the local rules. Even with a piece of this gray cloth. She did not want to become part of the district, she is still a Capitol and does not intend to reject her roots.
Trinket donned a flared cape, mouse-colored gray, rose-colored glasses, and put on the only gold-sheen shoes in the entire district. A turban stood on his head, and transparent gloves shimmered with a soft pinkish color on his hands. A massive quartz ring adorned his index finger.
Effie twirled around on the subject of the imperfection of her image, but on the whole she was satisfied.
Before leaving, she looked around the room and focused her attention on a warm, jet-black sweater with long sleeves and dark buttons. Haymitch. He left this sweater by accident. Abernethy, who came yesterday, was brief and not verbose, and after a couple of cups of tea, apparently intoxicated by its aroma, they kissed greedily, eventually ending up on the bed together.
Effie put the sweater on and went out the door.
In the dining room, Effie could feel the sharp stares of the residents of District 13 on her skin, cringing. They saw not just the capitol, but the capitol following Snow and his orders. And no matter what she does, she will never be her own here. Perhaps this was too modest a description of Trinket's relationship with the "cave dwellers" (as Effie herself called the local inhabitants, in response to their demonstratively contemptuous behavior). In general, they did not touch the capitol, but this is only because she was under the protection of district 13 and was protected by far not the last people of Panem.
However, when she sat alone in the dining room for a modest lunch, the residents of District 13 felt much more free to express their emotions about Trinket. They were whispering and laughing, playing non-ambiguous glances with her. Well, let it be, Effie thought. She is above this and will not allow some cave dwellers to discuss her precious person.
Effie Trinket got up from her seat, without touching her food, and went to the nearest table from her, where men and women were sitting, talking animatedly until she came up to them. Out of the corner of her ear, she still managed to pick up a couple of negative statements in her direction and she was not going to leave it just like that. Besides, this is not the first time.
Effie stood at the head of the table, squinting and unashamedly looking at every resident of District 13 who spoke about her. There were both young and old, but everyone in gray robes matched their gray faces. There was a meaningful cough, and then the clatter of cutlery.
— What did you say? She turned to a middle—aged man with gray hair on his temples. He was hunched over and looking at his plate with the most enthusiasm of all, but a slight smile fell from his lips.
He pushed his plate away from him, straightened up and became much bigger than a few seconds earlier. He cleared his throat and spat out loudly:
"I said you're a Capitol whore!"
Several people at the table giggled, scratching their noses. Effie suppressed her resentment and narrowed her eyes again. The tightness of her lips could have given her away, as could the slight twitch of her chin. After his words, the man looked at her with open defiance, clearly waiting for an answer. But it did not come. Effie lowered her eyes to the man's chuckle and clenched her teeth.
— Apparently Capitol whores have a dry tongue when it comes to swearing. Of course, they learned manners unlike us cave dwellers," the man grimaced as if he had drunk lemon juice.
In the next moment, several things happened at the same time. Effie, hardly realizing what she was doing, threw the contents of one of the plates on the head of the man who insulted her. He cursed and jumped up in an instant, grabbing Trinket by the throat and pinning her against the nearest pillar. She screamed in an unsuccessful attempt to throw off the angry cave dweller.
— You think you can get away with this, huh? Bitch!
Effie instantly became emboldened and spat in his face. In response, there was a slap in the face that made Trinket's vision swim. Someone jumped up from the table intending to calm the man down, but he maliciously pushed him away.
— You bastard!
The subsequent blow hit the man in the face, causing him to collapse to the floor, moaning.
— Effie, is everything okay? Haymitch asked, gently touching her cheek, which was red from the blow.
There were barely any tears in her eyes, but she restrained herself by nodding. By this time, the man had already got to his feet, staggering, wiping the blood from his broken nose. Effie wasn't sure if the man had a bump on his nose before Haymitch hit him. His nostrils flared fiercely, and there was no longer a smug smile on his lips. His lip was also split, and droplets of blood were oozing out of it, trickling down his chin. Abernathy put all his strength into that punch, Trinket thought.
With a faint growl, the man lunged at Haymitch, knocking him to the floor. After missing a couple of punches, Haymitch twisted away, kneed the man hard in the stomach and pushed him away from himself. The man's already battered face had a couple more bleeding wounds. Soon his face turned into a bloody mess: his eyes were swollen, his nose was bent even more, and his lips were barely visible at all because of the accumulated blood clots.
Effie's attempt to stop the scuffle went unheard. Abernethy punched and punched the man underneath him without giving him the slightest chance to resist. Trinket couldn't understand why there was so much aggression. Haymitch was like being drunk. He was often in this state only when he was drinking. And given the fact that Coin has imposed strict prohibition, Abernathy could be like this at least for this reason.
Everything would have ended badly if Plutarch hadn't been there, whose heavy body and strong arms played a role and managed to pull Haymitch away from the beaten man.
—Calm down, calm down," Plutarch Heavensby said evenly. — You've done enough.
"I'm calm," Haymitch growled, pushing Plutarch's hands off his shoulders. — Calm.
He wiped the blood under his nose with the sleeve of his robe and stared at Effie. She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was somewhat surprised that she was wearing his sweatshirt. And apparently, he even liked it. A satisfied grin crossed his face and Haymitch winked at Trinket. She smiled meekly and wrapped herself more tightly in a warm black sweater.
After the incident, the man who insulted Effie offered his unnecessary apologies to no one and was "pardoned" by Haymitch Abernethy. After that blow, my head was spinning and it was hard to ignore it. Trinket thought about coffee again. He always lifted her spirits, just like Haymitch's visits to her. Lately, she realized that her sympathy for him was growing more and more every day. Alcohol played a special role here — before it was a stumbling block in their relationship. Now she was getting to know Haymitch from new angles, as if she didn't know him from before. He was much more tolerant of some of Effie's antics, in particular everything related to clothes, "cave" inhabitants and even Alma Coin herself. He always took Trinket's side no matter what happened, and it continued to pleasantly surprise her. He was gentle and attentive to her, careful and calm. Effie, in turn, gave him her care and support. When he had several bouts of shaking due to alcohol withdrawal, Trinket was there for him and helped him in any way she could. Compresses, light touches, a warm smile and distracted conversations. Haymitch was grateful to her for that and even more. He liked her presence, her campaign. There was something familiar and calm about her. He wanted to hold her in his arms during the long nights of District 13. They liked being close to each other, protecting each other. Accept and understand. To raise their "winners" together, as if they were their own children.
There was a knock on the door and Effie's heart stopped for a second.
— Come in!
She sniffed and realized that her olfactory receptors were not deceiving her. Haymitch stood with a cup of fragrant drink in his hands. He smiled and put the cup on the table next to the overlock.
"I came to trade my sweater for coffee," Abernethy laughed.
Trinket smiled back and got out of bed. The wonderful aroma of coffee focused all of Effie's attention on itself. She walked over to the table, picked up the hot cup in her hands and took a sip. The hot liquid spread over his body, warming him.
— Where did you get it? Trinket was genuinely surprised, still not believing her luck.
She expected more that the coffee would be bitter and she would have to swallow it with force, but no. The drink was delicious, delicate and velvety. The creamy foam remained on the lips. Effie wanted to wipe it gently with her fingers, but Haymitch beat her to it, gently brushing away the rest of the foam.
"We were in District 12,— Abernathy explained. — I remembered that you were indignant about why there was no coffee here, as I was about why there was no alcohol, so I rummaged in my house and found you some coffee.
—Mmm,— Trinket said. — Did you bring alcohol too?
"I promised you, baby,— Haymitch sighed. — You can do an inspection if you want. I'll be only too glad.
Effie took another sip and felt a lump in her throat that came from nowhere. He had a catastrophically small space and therefore he literally unbearably squeezed his throat, which made him want to get rid of this unpleasant feeling as soon as possible. And that's why tears sprang from his eyes, his chin trembled, and his nose sniffed.
— Hey, honey, what are you doing? Haymitch was seriously confused, taking Effie by the shoulders.
She could not explain to herself the reason for this phenomenon. Maybe it's because no one has ever been so caring to Effie? Maybe that's why it touched her to the core? She could have expected such gestures from anyone but Haymitch Abernethy.
Effie set her cup down on the table, a little mesmerized by his pleasant scent, and looked at Haymitch with wide, swollen eyes. She waved her hands in front of her face, as if trying to chase away the unbidden tears, but they continued to exist. Trinket sniffed and wiped a few tears with her knuckles.
"I... just…
Trinket didn't immediately find the words. And were they needed? Fortunately for her, everything resolved itself.
—Come here,— Abernathy whispered softly.
Haymitch leaned forward and hugged Effie to him. And she finally felt the long-awaited relief, as after a dose of caffeine — steady, mild, favorite.