Prompt:

Guest - As a possible prompt: referring back to drawing(I think?) with when Peeta drawing Effie in her escort wear, what do you suppose Effie or even Haymitch reaction would be if Peeta had a created a picture/portrait of her in her Capitol colors (ethier painted before the quarter quell or painted post MJ based on his memory before the rebellion)?

(note: this sort of went a little differently to what I expected but ... hopefully it works!)

"Sometimes I forget …"

"Forget what?"

Effie sipped her wine and kept her eyes to the ground. "What I looked like. For all the makeup and wigs … I don't think I ever really looked hard into a mirror …"

Haymitch pulled her legs onto his lap. Effie's head now rested on the arm of the sofa.

"How would Peeta have drawn me?"

Haymitch shrugged. "Didn't let him get that far."

"Maybe you ought to have."

"What for?" Haymitch glanced at Effie, whose gaze was still not on him. Her chin was against her chest, which rose and fell with shallow breaths. She was drunk - her cheeks were flushed, her eyes were glassy. She fumbled to take another sip of her wine before Haymitch took the glass away and finished it himself.

"What for?" Effie repeated the question.

"Yeah, sweetheart. What for? What'd be the point?"

"Sometimes … sometimes bad memories serve a purpose Haymitch. And if that book -"

"Drop it, Eff. It's not who you are."

"But it's what they saw. Why … why bother changing what they saw? What's it matter what I look like now. The book … it was about then, wasn't it?"

"No. It's … Eff, you don't deserve -"

"I hate that word."

"What word?"

"Deserve … I hate it." She yawned and turned her head to the see what as the last embers of the fire Haymitch had set slowly faded - the smoke billowing up the chimney. "I want to forget," she said. "But it isn't right to forget, is it? It isn't. You … you can't forget."

Haymitch was quiet. He let out a breath then said, "We should go to bed. I can't fucking see straight."

Effie made an annoyed noise as he began to move.

"Come on," he muttered.

Finally Effie looked up at him. He reached down and brushed her cheek with his thumb. "Come on," he said again. "I ain't carrying you."

Haymitch fell into bed fully dressed. Effie stumbled around in the dim light - pulling off her dress - shedding her clothes as she went into the bathroom. She threw warm water on her face and stared at it in the mirror.

"Eff?" she heard Haymitch call out. "Get lost or something'?"

"No," Effie replied, turning off the light and returning to the bedroom. "Yes … maybe …" she crawled into bed beside him, letting his arm pull her body against his. "No …"