Over the years and since Maysilee, Haymitch had been with his fair share of women. He couldn't say that he was proud of every encounter, or that he had ever felt more than lust for any of them, but none of them had ever compared to Katniss. It was a horrible thing to realize, and at such an inconvenient time, but Haymitch really did love her. For all of her flaws, and all of the headaches that she had personally caused, Katniss made him a better person. If it weren't for her needing him in these games, Haymitch knew that he never would have gotten sober or trained to get back into fighting shape. In return, she had opened up to him and that in itself was something close to amazing.

Now that the party had ended, Haymitch was back in his room and very much alone. He sat on the bed, mind reeling with what he said to Katniss, and disappointed that he hadn't stayed to see or hear her reaction. Even at his age, Haymitch still made mistakes. Sighing heavily, the former Victor dropped his head into his hand and ran his fingers back through his hair. He was angry with himself, halfway sold on the idea of getting up and going to find Katniss, but it was just a few moments before she was already there. This time, he didn't mind that she had let herself into his room, and Haymitch was quiet as he waited for her to speak, or punch him; whichever came first.

Much to his surprise, Katniss was calm. Her words were sweetly brave, so genuine that Haymitch couldn't even think to cringe over the sappiness. He found himself smiling, eyes following her as she took a seat on the bed next to him. “We're going to make it out of here,” he told her, giving his fellow tribute as much of a promise as he possibly could. Lying to Katniss was one of the hardest things he had ever done, but if it got all of them out of the arena and off to better places, it would be worth it. “Together. You got it?” he asked rhetorically and reached out to pull her into his arms. 

While Gale took his shower, Prim changed into her night clothes. She made herself comfortable on the bed and waited for Gale to come out. It didn't take him long, but the sound of the door opening brought her back from near-sleep and she sat up just as he tossed his towel into the hamper. “Yeah, I'm a little nervous,” Prim admitted in regard to the interview, but she smiled as Gale's arms enveloped her. Lying there with him after a long day always seemed to melt the stress away, and the blonde girl no longer minded the fact that in just a few hours, she would be trying to impress the Gamemakers into thinking she would be hard to kill. The interview was another issue entirely, but that seemed worlds away.

Sleeping through the night was easy when she was with Gale, and in the morning, Prim awoke well-rested and ready to go. Her morning routine went quickly, and the blonde made a final decision on what she planned to present to the Gamemakers. It wasn't anything fancy or complicated, but she thought that showing off her throwing skills would work nicely, especially with all the improvement she had done over the last week. After all, Prim assumed that the scores were based on how deadly a tribute was, and nine times out of ten, she could hit a dummy in the throat without a problem. Brutal as it was, Prim continued to tell herself that it wasn't real yet—the targets she was used to never bled.

The discussion at breakfast seemed promising, and it left Prim wishing that she could sit in on Katniss's demonstration. After hearing about what her older sister had done the year before, the display might have been inspiring. However, it was soon time to leave the suite and Prim was forced to put her serious face on. The four of them were in a room with the other tributes, forced to sit and wait as the lower-numbered districts went ahead of them. Prim was silent through most of it, only bother to speak when spoken to, or to promise Haymitch that she would try her best when her turn had finally come.

Once inside the training area, everything felt so much larger. When the room was filled up with other tributes and equipment, Prim always found a way to blend into the background. This time, all eyes were on her. The sound of her shoes against the concrete sounded too loud as she picked up a set of throwing knives and prepared herself. Squaring herself in her stance, the blonde concentrated and threw the set at the targets placed yards away. Almost every knife had hit somewhere vital, and all but one had landed. The last knife had clattered to the floor, short by a few feet. Glancing up to the Gamemakers, at Plutarch, it was hard to tell if they were impressed or not.

With Gale and Prim having gone before him, Haymitch was the last to go before Katniss. When his name was called, Haymitch got to his feet and gave Katniss one last glance. “See you on the other side,” he said, and nudged her before he was allowed into the empty training area once more. Whatever Prim had done, it had already been cleaned up and Haymitch was getting a sense of deja vu from the last time he had tried to impress the people in charge of his life. He didn't bother to acknowledge any of them, figuring that his bad attitude had worked for him the first time, and it would probably work again.

Picking up a familiarly heavy ax, Haymitch demolished a row of dummy targets. He threw his weapon a handful of them, cut the throats of others, and even dusted out a reference to his last games. On the final dummy, the former Victor raised his ax, shiny and glinting in the overhead lights and buried the blade in the top of the target's head. The rubber mold looked nothing like that girl from One had, but Haymitch hoped to send a message anyway. If that didn't earn him a high score, then he didn't know what would.

All that was left to do was wait for Katniss and Haymitch hoped that she would raise a little hell. Her display the year before had gone over well with no one but him, but for Peeta's sake, Haymitch hoped that she could reel it in—just a little. The elevator ride upstairs was a short one, and Haymitch gave an acknowledging nod to the others who were congregated in the living room before dinner was officially served. In no time at all, Katniss was joining them, and judging by the phone call that Peeta had received, she had done something inappropriate. Haymitch was all smiles.

“We've got all the sponsors we need,” Haymitch insisted, dismissing how upset Peeta was about Katniss's art show. He didn't mean to undermine the younger man, but it was just sort of natural for him. In the mean time, dinner was on the table and Haymitch took a seat next to Katniss. Under the table, he gave her thigh a pat, as if to say [i]good job[/i] for whatever she had done.

Across from Katniss, Prim was equally proud of her sister. At least the older girl had the guts to shake things up a bit. Taking a bite of her salad, Prim shrugged her shoulders at Gale's question. “I threw the knives. It's what I practiced with the most. One of them missed the thing completely. I don't think I did well,” she said, shaking her head a bit. “What did you do?” she asked in return, wishing that she could have seen Gale in action.

When the question was turned around on him, Haymitch didn't think he had anything to hide. “I put an ax through one of the dummy's heads,” he said, and saw Effie frown from the corner of his eye. “Just like when I won, but less blood.” He turned to Katniss. “I think you outdid all of us though. You should be more smug about it because they're going to remember you forever.” 

Whether Katniss was or wasn't going to be the most talked about tribute that year would be decided soon enough. The rest of dinner went smoothly and the conversation was oddly light, all things considering. Eventually, the Avoxes were back, doling out dessert just as Effie was turning on the television in the living room. The anthem had already started to play, and as the song tapered off, the voices of Caesar Flickerman and Caludius Templesmith could be heard. They sounded excited, booming voice excitedly talking about each tribute. They paid particular attention to the career districts, and of course, the favorites from the pool of existing Victors. Haymitch's name was mentioned a handful of times, but Katniss was the real star and both men on television seemed eager to discuss her performance and speculate about how she would fare that year.

“It's starting!” Effie insisted from the other room. The escort appeared in the dining room once more, painted face looking impatient as she ushered the four tributes and Peeta into the living room and onto the couch. Prim brought the small dish of strawberries and cream with her, deciding that she hadn't been done with dessert yet. Still, she took a seat next to Gale on the couch and settled in for a night of comparative war. The blonde was slightly nervous about her score, but she did her best to tell herself that it couldn't be [i]that[/i] bad.

For the next hour, the tributes and their scores were revealed. Haymitch paid close attention, the mentor in him unable to help the need for control. He wasn't surprised to see that the old career pack had scored fairly high, and that included Finnick. The whole Capitol loved him, though, and Haymitch suspected that there would have been a riot had he gotten anything less than a nine. The rest of the winners were mixed, and Johanna was at the top of the pack with the morphlings scoring abysmally low. Finally, it was time for 12.

“I'm sure you all did well,” Peeta said, sounding comforting despite his disappointment with Katniss. “Prim and Gale have come a long way.”