Disclaimer: I own no part of THG.

My first shot at a Haysilee. Yes, no? Whatever it is, please review!

Haymitch grins, then screams. He hates everything around him, hates this train. He's gotten into the liquor, laughing and spinning. "Maysilee!" He calls, sticking out his tongue like a child. Because they're just playing hide and seek, right? She'll come out, he just knows it. She's a very good hider, always has been. She's a canary, with eyes an odd amber-golden. (P.S: She likes to fly.) He grins, vaguely aware of himself throwing up. (He wishes he could throw up his emotions instead, because he's scared and nervous and excited to find her in their little game of hide and seek, probably tucked away, far away in the strange city of too-bright lights and odd fashions.)

"May!" He grins, hugging the Capitol escort dressed in bright yellow, complete with feathers. "There you are, silly canary!" He frowns as she squirms away from him, his head spinning. "Why'd you come out! We were playing hide and seek, remember?" The Capitol escort pushes him off, click-clacking off in her heels. "Yeah, you go hide!" He calls, loving this feeling of weightlessness.

He doesn't feel so weightless when the nightmares hit. The pink birds-he frowns, they're not canaries-are hurting May. His May. All he can do is crumple to the ground, clutching at his chest-because he hearts feels like it's about to explode- and hope the birds turn to canaries, light and bright and smudged with coal. (They don't.) And that's what hurts so much.

He wakes up a few hours later, head pounding. He goes to the bathroom and throws up all the pretty little Capitol drinks, all a mix-match of colors. Haymitch has always liked rainbows-but not this type. He remembers to throw up his emotions, too, so he can feel weightless, like canaries. Except he's not, because they're beautiful and light and coal-smudged and they can't even give him that little piece of home, can they?

Blah. This was not my best work, but review anyway. My first Haysilee- yes or no?