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Who| Haymitch and you
What| Introduction. He's been released after a year of confinement. Feel free to bump into him at any point along his journey
Where| On the street or in the Training Center complex
When| During the mini arena, though he has no idea that it's going on
Warnings/Notes| Alcoholism + general Hunger Games angst

It's been over a year since anyone has seen this particular face in public. Haymitch isn't a social creature by nature, but like any victor, he's not given a choice in the matter of his own celebrity. One day he was mentoring tributes, just as he's been doing for the past twenty-five years---the next, he was just gone with no explanation.

Now, just as suddenly, he's back. The Capitol officials who released him from confinement instructed him to return to the Training Center and continue his duties as a mentor. He really has no idea how long he's even been detained for, because the bastards certainly didn't see fit to give him a calendar; but after an entire year of barely any contact with the outside world, he has other priorities that definitely do not include picking up a newspaper to read about things he's missed. A year of confinement for Haymitch equals a year of forced sobriety, and so he wastes no time in ducking into the first liquor store he comes across.

Only after this need has been met, does he make his way to the Training Center; pushing the elevator button for the twelfth floor as he takes a swig from his bottle.

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In the training center he's likely to see a scrapping, pig tailed girl, who might seem precious at first glance. A moment later you can see she has gloves and is busily clobbering the hell out of a dummy, and looking like her fists is the last place anyone wants to be. To tell the truth, Mindy has not been too enthused about just hanging back: she needs to hit something, needs to push herself at least a little bit.

In a moment she gets a whiff of her old enemy from the Crowning, turning to see who would be bringing the smell. It was...some fucer she'd never seen before, actually.

"You look like shit," Mindy remarked idly. "The drink's not doing you any favors."

Haymitch has seen his share of innocent-looking kids who can do real damage when put to the test, so he's not impressed with her by any means. His expression conveys this sentiment, and he just takes another drink.

"I don't drink it to make me look pretty."

Was there a time when he did?

"There's generally a wait time before hitting the bottle where I'm from, five o clock, not that I'm judging. What brings you over here, drink and all?"

The party had wound down in the later evening and Sandy had retreated to the safety of District 12.

But she couldn't sleep.

And so with a nest of blankets built up on the sofa she was watching the screen looking gloomy as a rain cloud as a pretty blond woman shoved another blond woman out of the way only to be crushed to death by rolling logs.

It bothered her that she no longer felt sick seeing something like that on the TV. In person hopefully it would have made her thrown up. But here it seemed so far removed.

He'll see a dark-haired boy, as unkempt as his stylists will allow, watching the tv with a worried look on his face. Normal Arenas are bad enough. This one is almost worse since there's nothing he can do. "Come on, come on," he mutters, finally turning to the tablet in his hand when his tributes are no longer on the screen.

Edited 2014-04-05 14:42 (UTC)

"Oh, now the homecoming is complete."

She'd slipped out of the games a couple years after her own victory, preferring to curl up in a Capitol bed over getting shuttled back and forth to the dump of her home district. Good things couldn't last forever, however, and with her latest sugar daddy unfortunately deceased, Velma had fallen back into the mentor role not that long ago herself. With all the time in between then and now, she wasn't overly familiar with most of the other mentors, but Haymitch had been around long enough it was hard not to know him by reputation alone.

She pulled her fur wrap slightly tighter around her shoulders as she strode into the elevator, on her way up to the 8th.

"The bars were seeming a little too well stocked since I got back."

After stepping out of the elevator and into District 12's suite, Haymitch took a long moment to simply stop and look around. Same old penthouse. It had been a while since he'd last set foot there, but he still knew his way around.

He drifted through the dining room, toward the sound of the television, and stopped just inside the doorway to stare at the girl curled up on the couch. This one was unfamiliar to him. The thought that he might not even find anybody he knew still hanging around occurred, but he dismissed it as he lifted the bottle to his lips for another drink. Then he finally stepped into the room and addressed Sandy.

"Who're you?"

When he passes through the common room, Haymitch catches sight of the TV and immediately recognises that they must be in the middle of the Games again. It's not surprising, really, because he'd gotten a dose of the new, more frequent format before being locked up.

As much as he wants to escape to his district floor and hole up with the mini bar for a week, he stops to consider the kid sitting on the couch. Haymitch can spot genuine concern when he sees it.

He takes a seat on the arm at the far end of the sofa as he tries to get an idea of what is going on on-screen.

He's not really paying attention to anything other than his tablet yet. The danger seems to be over for the moment but there's only so much time for Sherlock and Nasir to get all the tokens. And there's no way for him to tell them which way to go.

He'd been around long enough, indeed; and since 12 had no other victors up until very recently, he'd been trotted out to every Games since his own. Haymitch knew a lot of people, and he wasn't that bad at remembering faces and names considering he often forgot to do basic things like eat and bathe.

The woman who stepped onto the elevator was definitely familiar, definitely a victor, though he hadn't seen her around for quite a while. Some had luck in escaping this life. Haymitch obviously did not, even after his district ended up with two more victors. And apparently Velma's luck had run out.

Her jab was met with amusement. "Guess I'm not the only one who couldn't wait to get back to this." As if to toast the occasion, he lifted his bottle before taking a drink. "But don't worry. The bars are safe. For now."

"How long has this one been going? I've kind of been out of the loop for a while," he asks, taking his eyes off the television to peer at the kid's tablet. This is not what he expected to jump right into immediately after being released, but then, what else is there?

"Where I'm from, now is just as good a time as any."

Brat. Not that he really gives a shit whether she's going to judge him or not. Haymitch is used to it at this point in his life. He shrugs. "Getting back into the swing of things, I guess. Drink and all."

He had a point. Granted, she didn't really care that he was drinking as much as just wanting to hassle him about it. She pretty much figured if he was doing that, he was likely a former winner.

"New fucked up Arena is on now, way sooner than it was supposed to be after the last one. I won that."

Kevin looks up, just realizing there's someone else there. "Just today. And they only picked some of them."

Sandy twisted around in her seat to look over her shoulder. This guy looked familiar but she wasn't sure from where...

"Sandy." She answered plainly enough and then returned the question suspiciously. "Who're you?"

There was a tension in her voice and if she wasn't hidden by blankets he might see her posture tighten as well. She had long since learned not to trust strangers. Especially strangers in a place she felt was supposed to be safe.

This is definitely a face Finnick knows, they've been side by side many times for more arenas than he really wants to count. He sees Haymitch in the lobby and waves to him before he can get far.

"Well look who they dragged back. And here I thought I wasn't going to get any better District 12 company than Katniss."

He was glad to see Haymitch, he worried that the other mentor was in over his head.

Effie is sitting at the table, doing her mountain of paper work, as she is wont to do on afternoons with nothing else going on. There is always more, every time she turns around, and she doesn't feel like she's ever going to really get on top of it.

Although the changes had been slow and subtle, harder for those around her to see, for Haymitch who's last look at her was a year ago, she was different. Unwound some how. Tired, but also calmer.

She glanced up from her paper work quickly to acknowledge whomever it was, expecting Sandy or Peeta, and it took a moment for it to sink in, for her face to change to an overwhelming mix of relief, and joy. She could easily be sure she'd never been so happy to see Haymitch before.

"HAYMITCH!" And then she was up and stumbling over the heels she had kicked of while she worked to throw her arms around him, without even thinking.

Katniss is coming back from working with one of the Tributes in training when she sees the man.

At first she goes still. Because, really, she had given up hope that he was ok some time ago. Whatever they hadn't gotten from her and Peeta they must have been wringing out of him. So maybe this is a trick of her eyes.

And when she's sure it's him, she feels relief. But slowly. Because there could still be a trick or a trap here.

"Haymitch?"

"Sandy," he repeats. He surely doesn't remember ever seeing her in District 12's apartment complex, so he immediately assumes that she's a new tribute. New to him, at least. She could have been here for a year, as far as he knew.

"I'm Haymitch. Your new mentor."

That earned him a look of confusion, and suspicion as she sank back into her blankets.

"What happened to Katniss and Peeta?" After all she had some what grown attached to them despite how many times she had died in the arena and felt like she'd let them down.

"Hold the lift!"

Johanna was hot and sweaty as she stuck her hand into the elevator door to stop it closing. She didn't really need to work out any more - she, like Haymitch could drink herself into a stupour and try to forget her rage. But that wasn't Johanna's way. She preferred to take her aggression out in the gym.

And besides, the gym was the only place where she was actually allowed near an axe. And that in itself was a great comfort - the only home comfort she had left.

She couldn't be bothered sharing a lift, really. She couldn't be doing with the gasps, or Tributes and their cocky comments or people edging away from her. But smelling the cheap alcohol, she broke into an uncharacteristic grin as the elevator doors closed behind her.

"So they've finally dragged you back? You're in for a treat."

There are no old victors painting in the Training Center, but there is a Troll. He sits with his legs folded on the floor painting, with claw tipped hands made for hurting, in wide expressive arches and a medley of color, the length of his dark braided hair pooling on the floor and a pair waving goat horns reaching upward. He hears the footsteps and turns his head hand shoulders to peer at the person entering the Center. Not anyone he knows. A new one then, perhaps? Or another Peacekeeper surely...

The Initiate doesn't bother to keep from staring as he examines Haymitch.

Haymitch looked equally confused when she asked him that question, but he quickly managed to turn his expression into something of vague surprise. On the inside, though, he was going to be hanging on Sandy's every word.

"You've seen Katniss and Peeta?" He hadn't seen either of them in almost two years.

"What do you mean, some of them?" he asks, squinting at the screen and then looking back up to the television. He doesn't recognize any of the tributes he's seen so far.

She nodded again, unsure of how much she wanted to share.

"They're my mentors...as well I guess. Katniss taught me how to hold a bow." she did not say however that Katniss taught her how to shoot a bow...because so far Sandy had only just recently managed to hit a target.

"And Peeta is helping me bake a cake." There, if he means them any ill will then that should be mundane enough.

"Oh, good. Congratulations on that, and welcome to the wonderful world of mentoring." His congratulations doesn't sound entirely genuine, nor does his welcome because obviously there is nothing wonderful about anything here.

Haymitch stops in his tracks when he sees Finnick. To be honest, he'd had no idea what kind of changes to expect when he finally got out--changes to the Games themselves, or to the faces he may or may not be seeing around. He's definitely glad that Finnick hasn't disappeared.

"Yeah, I heard she finally showed up. Any company's probably better than hers, though." The barely-there note of fondness in his voice says that he's mostly kidding. Mostly, because Katniss actually isn't the best of company.

Effie's is another face that Haymitch is honestly glad to see hasn't disappeared. Before she notices him, he lingers across the room, just staring at her. Somehow, seeing Effie brings about the confirmation that, yes, everything is actually back to the way it had been. Back to Games-mode. That definitely should not be a good feeling, and he hates himself for just being thankful that his existence is no longer confined to an empty room of four white walls, even if it means being stuck in the Capitol.

"Hey, careful there. I always told you those things were dangerous," he greets, not even bothering to hide that fact that he's genuinely pleased to see her, too. There's not even any attempt on his part to escape from her hug, which he returns.

He's already heard from a couple of people that Katniss and Peeta are back. Have been back for a good while now. That doesn't prevent him from experiencing the same automatic suspicions that Katniss is having--that it could be a trick.

"Yeah..." he finally responds. "Good to see you, Sweetheart." There's not a hint of sarcasm behind his words.

He frowns at his tablet. "They only took two of mine. They usually take all of them."

He frowns at his tablet. "They only sent two of mine in this time. They usually send all of them."

"Jesus. You could at least half ass pretend I'm not doomed." She shook her head. "So what District do you mentor?"

There was a green guy in the Training Center, one who was working out on an obstacle course of sorts.

It wasn't the usual obstacle course because in this instance he wasn't getting past obstacles, he was surrounded by swinging padded arms that seemed to regard him as one - something that seemed meant to test the reflexes.

Even as he twisted and turned, ducked and jumped, his gaze kept drifting back to the strange man with a bottle of what was clearly alcohol.

Interest piqued, he did a back bend, staring at him a little more keenly.

"Is that alcohol?" he said while his head was still upside down. He popped back up again. "You primitives do love to find multitudes of ways to self-medicate, don't you."

Somehow, he seemed to be having the conversation effortlessly with all his dodging and ducking and occasional flips. The lack of obvious signs of exertion was easy to figure out - he was clearly physically fit.

But the ability to split his focus was just as clearly inhuman. He seemed to have no difficulty with trying to start a conversation during an exercise that would cause most people to get beaned in the face even if they were fully focusing on it. It was almost robotic.

"I can think of some worse mentors around here. But now I don't have to worry about the District 12 tributes getting the short end of the stick."

Finnick made his way over so he could properly clap Haymitch on the shoulder. And so he could get a better idea of what sort of shape the other mentor was in. Finnick hadn't been out of his own "rehab" too long and he wanted to be sure there was no lasting damage.

Had she been someone he disliked or even possibly somebody he didn't know, Haymitch might have pretended not to hear that request or flat-out ignored it. He recognises her voice, though; and for Johanna, he does hold the elevator.

If her grin is uncharacteristic, then Haymitch's semi-pleasant demeanor can also be counted as such. He's just happy to be out right now, and to learn that his friends (and his former tributes, who he'd previously thought to be dead) are still alive and kicking.

"Are you kidding? Every day spent here is a treat," he responds, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You smell great, by the way." The last bit is added on with a cheeky little smirk. Even when Johanna is sweaty from the gym, Haymitch knows he's worse off, as one of the victors most known for not really being interested in personal hygiene. In the Capitol it's not so bad because Effie and his team's stylists are always hounding him. Under normal circumstances in the districts, though? Yeah. Rank.

What the honest fuck, Haymitch has to wonder when he sees this weirdo sitting on the floor, staring at him. He'd been taken into custody by the Capitol over a year ago, but he'd still been around to see the Games shift from a once-a-year thing to a whenever-we-feel-like-it thing; and thus to learn that they're now dragging in tributes from other worlds. But this takes the cake. What even is this guy? If it's even a guy.

"Yeah?" he prompts, even if he's staring just as hard at the troll as the troll is staring at him.

Haymitch wished he could remain unimpressed, but this weirdo had reflexes like some kind of alien cat. It wasn't just his ability to multitask that made him seem inhuman--the kid was green. Where were they even getting these people, he had to wonder.

"You say that like it's a bad thing. Nothing wrong with a little self-medication."

"I think Peeta would be the better end of whatever stick you're thinking of than I am," he commented with a snort. He understood, though--as nice as Peeta was, Haymitch had twenty-five years of experience under his belt, even if he'd only ever mentored two other victors.

Haymitch wasn't much to look at, as usual. He was a little bit paler, a little bit thinner, due to his captivity. But if anything, he was relieved, to finally get out, and to see that all of the people who were important to him weren't dead again.

His automatic response would normally have been a snarky quip about how baking a cake would be of no use in the arena, but he was still too surprised to learn that Peeta and Katniss were alive. He took a deep swig from his bottle and plopped down on the arm of the couch as he considered Sandy intently. The easiest explanation was that she was one of those tributes imported from outside of Panem. Pretty much everybody native to Panem recognized Haymitch; and if they hadn't known him before the 74th Games, they'd surely have known him to be Katniss and Peeta's mentor afterwards. He'd disappeared, though, and apparently nobody talked about him.

Oh well.

"I was their mentor, when they won their Games. Before The Gamemakers started dragging people in from other worlds."

"I'm not a big fan of pretendy-fun times. If you want someone to tell you your life is going to be easy from here on out, I'm not your guy." He doesn't say anything more negative than that, though, because they're most likely being bugged. Everywhere is bugged, pretty much.

"I'm Haymitch, from District 12."

Mindy smiled. "That's fucked up. But hey, maybe we should go for a walk and talk more. You can give me some advice on being a mentor. I kinda need to know what I'm doing, you know?"

She offered a hand. "Mindy Macready. District 9."

Edited 2014-04-23 11:52 (UTC)

Something clicked in Sandy's brain at that point and she say up straight, eyes wide and her brain practically slapped the back of her skull for having misplaced the memory that sprung forth.

"Wait...you're friends with Effie aren't you?" She almost accused with surprise in her voice. "We had a nightmare about you." And then the look that flashed across her face was clearly identified as someone who had just said too much. She probably should have left that up to Effie to confess.

Edited 2014-04-23 20:36 (UTC)

Her shoulders noticeably relax, and she smiles at the mentor she hasn't seen in far too long. It was strange, the way a man she hadn't barely known most of her life was now one of her people.

But it was good to know he was safe, if nothing else.

"Same. Welcome home." She glanced around, making sure no tributes were in ear shot. "There's plenty to do."

"They are not." Effie is arguing thoughtlessly, much more concerned with Haymitch being back, but much less sure what to say about that. Really, she has no idea how to deal with all the emotions bubbling up.

So she goes into her default mode.

"Where have you been? Are you back to stay? Is everything all right? Are you all right?" Her questions only broke long enough for her to drag in a deep breath, the last string all said in one rapid one.

"I suppose anyone would need it in a world like this," said Brainy.

Apparently, he'd passed whatever time challenge the obstacle course had set before him because there was an alarm as if his time was done, and the whole thing shut down.

He stepped out from the middle, briefly standing on his hands to get between two bars and grabbed a towel from a nearby bench, wiping at his face with it.

"Are you a Tribute, one of the mentors, one of the staff, or one of our designated overseers?"

The Initiate blinks, but he doesn't look offeneded.

"You're new, but you don't look lost none," He says soft at first, then, in strangled, growling tones, "YOU GOT YOURSELF A MOTHERFUCKIN FAMILIARITY TO THE PLACE BUT US ALL AIN'T GOT NONE TO YOU." His voice continues to fluctuate. "So what are you? AN OLD MENTOR COME 'ROUND? A peacekeeper? CERTAINLY AIN'T AN AVOX."

He should like to know what to expect. At least enough, what with Azula's words ringing of how her kind tended to surprise.

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You get both, sorry replies will be so slow but I'm too excited

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excellent~ obviously I am slow too, so no worries!

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sorry for the super late tag

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no worries!

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Re: excellent~ obviously I am slow too, so no worries!

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