Light streamed in from the window, casting a morning glow all throughout the room.
Effie Trinket slowly blinked opened her eyes, her body reluctantly fighting off the sleepiness that was currently impairing her senses. She could feel the overwhelming exhaustion creep up on her, the aching stiffness in her limbs, and the throbbing pain searing through her head.
All of it together made it to where her thought process was not up to par, and she could just barely register the fact that her body was tangled in the sheets, or that there was another warm body lying to next to hers in the bed.
Her eyes snapped open upon the realization, and horror coursed through her. Had she brought another Capital fan boy, or girl for that matter, to bed? Or worse, someone higher up the totem pole, like a game maker?
The events of the night before were blurry and she struggled to piece them together. She had no idea what to expect when she turned around, and she dreaded to look at exactly who was the other occupant of her bed.
Every movement caused the pain in her head to pulse, but she gathered up her nerve and hesitantly rolled over onto her other side...
...and found herself face to face with Haymitch.
He was passed out, and one glanced downward told her that he was very, very naked...and so was she. He was lying on his stomach, his face buried into the pillow, and he appeared to be peacefully sleeping.
That was, until she let out the most deafening, ear-splitting scream. Haymitch? Haymitch? Of all people...in her bed?
The man in question slowly blinked open his eyes at the noise, seemingly not yet aware of what was going on around him. "Okay, honey, it's time for you to leave..." he mumbled, but then his eyes began to fix on her and she saw a flicker of surprise. "Oh, it's you."
Remembering her nudity, and trying not to notice his, she scrambled into a sitting position. Tugging the blanket around her body to regain some modesty, she glared at him. "Of course it's me, you fool!" she snapped angrily. "You're in my room!"
"Sorry, sorry, don't get your panties in a bunch," he grumbled lazily, using his hands to push himself upright. He looked over at her, glancing her body up and down. "But from the looks of things, you're not wearing any."
Effie tried to fight the blush that was currently trying to rise to her cheeks, and ignored his comments. "Why are you in here?" she asked, doing her best to keep her voice from shaking with frustration.
"Hell if I know," he answered, making an attempt to stifle a yawn. "Probably because I fell asleep here."
"This is not time for joking!" she yelled furiously, not even bothering to sound calm. "I need to know exactly what happened last night!"
He didn't reply right away, instead taking the time to stand up and stretch. Before she knew what she was doing, she found her eyes traveling downward, almost against her will...
"Have a nice view, sweetie?" asked Haymitch as he stepped into a pair of black dress pants that had been lying on the floor. "I know I sure do."
Snapping her eyes back up to his face, she was momentarily confused as to what he was saying. But then she realized that the blanket she had wrapped around her body was slowly beginning to slip.
Yanking it back up, she glared angrily at him. "As funny as that is, it still doesn't explain what happened last night."
He rolled his eyes. "Isn't it obvious?" he asked as he began to button up a shirt that had also been on the floor only moments before. "Empty wine glasses on the table, discarded clothes littering the floor...It's all just so confusing!"
The last part was said mockingly, his voice raised a few pitches higher than normal in order to imitate hers.
"Shut up!" she snapped at him, not in the mood for his mockery or foolery. But was he right...? Was what he was implying really true...? It couldn't be. No.
But as she glanced around the room, she saw that everything he pointed out was there. Empty glasses and a bottle of wine were set on the table, and she could clearly make out her clothes scattered throughout the room.
The knowledge of all these things slowly connected in her brain, and flashes of the night before began to come back to her.
"You...I..." she fumbled over her words, finding it becoming increasingly harder to speak. "I was drunk!"
Her declaration was practically an admittance, and she almost felt like crying. Did she, Effie Trinket, really have sex with...Haymitch Abernathy? The thought made her feel so low, so dirty.
She was from the Capital, he was from the worst district in all of Panem. It couldn't have happened. Her standards surely couldn't have fallen just because she had drunk a few glasses of wine.
Haymitch shrugged, running his hand over his face. Unlike her, he didn't seem to be suffering from internal panic. "So was I," he pointed out.
"But you're always drunk," she argued, pulling the blanket closer around her body. "It doesn't count."
He arched an eyebrow over at her. "Doesn't it?"
She didn't reply, instead beginning to mumble to herself. "How could I have let this happened?" she asked, but then looked up at him. "You...You forced me!" she accused rashly, but almost instantly regretted it once the words were out of her mouth.
She knew good and well that it wasn't true, but found herself incapable of saying out loud that she had done it willingly.
He glowered at her, walking over to the table and snatching up the almost empty wine bottle. "Call me an ass, I don't care," he began, downing the little liquid that was still left. "But I've never forced a woman in my life, and I as sure as hell didn't force you."
Running the back of his hand over his mouth, he began to make his way over to the door. "Now, I suggest that you go take a shower and put on that mask of yours before a stray Avox walks in and sees you without your make-up."
She gaped at him, but before she could come up with a response, he was already leaving. He walked out and slammed the door, the now empty wine bottle still in his hand.