Victors' Village, District 12 [Thursday, Fandom-time]
Katniss had no idea how long she stayed there, but she suddenly realized where she needed to be. Peeta would have already found Haymitch, since one of them would have to go into the arena with her. She knew who it would be. He would have insisted.
She got to her feet, walking back through the Victors' Village on shaky legs, and went straight into Haymitch's house. He was sitting at the kitchen table, white liquor in one hand, knife in the other.
"Ah, there she is. All tuckered out. Finally did the math, did you, sweetheart? Worked out you won't be going in alone? And now you're here to ask me ... what?” he said.
She didn't answer.
“I'll admit, it was easier for the boy. He was here before I could snap the seal on a bottle. Begging me for another chance to go in. But what can you say?” He mimicked Katniss's voice. "'Take his place, Haymitch, because all things being equal, I'd rather Peeta had a crack at the rest of his life than you'?"
She bit her lip, because it was half-true. She didn't hate Haymitch -- of course he was awful, often, but she didn't want him to die.
"I came for a drink," she said, finally.
Haymitch burst out laughing and slammed the bottle on the table before her. Katniss ran her sleeve across the top and took a couple gulps before she came up choking. It took a few minutes to compose herself, and even then her eyes and nose were still streaming. But inside her, the liquor felt like fire and she liked it.
"Maybe it should be you," she said matter of factly. "You hate life anyway."
"Very true," said Haymitch. “And since last time I tried to keep you alive...seems like I'm obligated to save the boy this time."
"That's another good point," Katniss said, wiping her nose and tipping up the bottle again. "It'd be bad for you in the arena, wouldn't it? Knowing all the others?"
"Oh, I think we can count on it being unbearable wherever I am." He nodded at the bottle. “Can I have that back now?”
“No,” Katniss said, wrapping her arms around it. Haymitch pulled another bottle out from under the table and gave the top a twist. She realized she wasn't just here for the drink, though -- there was something else she wanted. “Okay, I figured out what I'm asking,” she said. “If it is Peeta and me in the Games, this time we try to keep him alive. Like you said, it's going to be bad no matter how you slice it. And whatever Peeta wants, it's his turn to be saved. We both owe him that.”
Her voice took on a pleading tone as Haymitch's bloodshot eyes flickered with pain. “Besides, the Capitol hates me so much, I'm as good as dead now. He still might have a chance. Please, Haymitch. Say you'll help me.”
"All right," he finally said.
"Thanks," she replied quietly. She knew she should go see Peeta, but with her head spinning from the drink and her exhustion, she knew she was apt to agree to something he'd like more than this. No. She had to go face her mother and Prim.
When she reached her home, the door swung open, and Gale was pulling her tight into his arms. "We should have run away," he whispered, hugging her close.
"No," Katniss mumbled, and she was having trouble focusing, the liquid from her bottle sloshing out against his back. He didn't seem to care.
"We still could."
Over his shoulder, Katniss could see her mother and Prim. This much she knew: if she ran, they would die. And now she had Peeta to protect, too. And she had no idea if she was being sent back to Fandom or not, but she had to think of her friends there, of Wesley. "No, we can't."
She felt her knees give way, as though she was very far off, and Gale was holding her up. The bottle slipped from her hand, and as the alcohol overcame her mind, she reflected how appropriate it was, the bottle hitting the floor. She'd lost her grip on everything else, after all.
[stolen still from Catching Fire, chapter 13. NFB, NFI, OOC is love, yay more trauma! This part features underage drunkeness though, oh noes.]
She got to her feet, walking back through the Victors' Village on shaky legs, and went straight into Haymitch's house. He was sitting at the kitchen table, white liquor in one hand, knife in the other.
"Ah, there she is. All tuckered out. Finally did the math, did you, sweetheart? Worked out you won't be going in alone? And now you're here to ask me ... what?” he said.
She didn't answer.
“I'll admit, it was easier for the boy. He was here before I could snap the seal on a bottle. Begging me for another chance to go in. But what can you say?” He mimicked Katniss's voice. "'Take his place, Haymitch, because all things being equal, I'd rather Peeta had a crack at the rest of his life than you'?"
She bit her lip, because it was half-true. She didn't hate Haymitch -- of course he was awful, often, but she didn't want him to die.
"I came for a drink," she said, finally.
Haymitch burst out laughing and slammed the bottle on the table before her. Katniss ran her sleeve across the top and took a couple gulps before she came up choking. It took a few minutes to compose herself, and even then her eyes and nose were still streaming. But inside her, the liquor felt like fire and she liked it.
"Maybe it should be you," she said matter of factly. "You hate life anyway."
"Very true," said Haymitch. “And since last time I tried to keep you alive...seems like I'm obligated to save the boy this time."
"That's another good point," Katniss said, wiping her nose and tipping up the bottle again. "It'd be bad for you in the arena, wouldn't it? Knowing all the others?"
"Oh, I think we can count on it being unbearable wherever I am." He nodded at the bottle. “Can I have that back now?”
“No,” Katniss said, wrapping her arms around it. Haymitch pulled another bottle out from under the table and gave the top a twist. She realized she wasn't just here for the drink, though -- there was something else she wanted. “Okay, I figured out what I'm asking,” she said. “If it is Peeta and me in the Games, this time we try to keep him alive. Like you said, it's going to be bad no matter how you slice it. And whatever Peeta wants, it's his turn to be saved. We both owe him that.”
Her voice took on a pleading tone as Haymitch's bloodshot eyes flickered with pain. “Besides, the Capitol hates me so much, I'm as good as dead now. He still might have a chance. Please, Haymitch. Say you'll help me.”
"All right," he finally said.
"Thanks," she replied quietly. She knew she should go see Peeta, but with her head spinning from the drink and her exhustion, she knew she was apt to agree to something he'd like more than this. No. She had to go face her mother and Prim.
When she reached her home, the door swung open, and Gale was pulling her tight into his arms. "We should have run away," he whispered, hugging her close.
"No," Katniss mumbled, and she was having trouble focusing, the liquid from her bottle sloshing out against his back. He didn't seem to care.
"We still could."
Over his shoulder, Katniss could see her mother and Prim. This much she knew: if she ran, they would die. And now she had Peeta to protect, too. And she had no idea if she was being sent back to Fandom or not, but she had to think of her friends there, of Wesley. "No, we can't."
She felt her knees give way, as though she was very far off, and Gale was holding her up. The bottle slipped from her hand, and as the alcohol overcame her mind, she reflected how appropriate it was, the bottle hitting the floor. She'd lost her grip on everything else, after all.
[stolen still from Catching Fire, chapter 13. NFB, NFI, OOC is love, yay more trauma! This part features underage drunkeness though, oh noes.]