Haymitch had his head against the table, fast asleep, snoring like an asthmatic fifty year old man... The average snore of a fatherly figure.... Alcohol stained the air and floors... Tipped bottles littering the place like a picky Raccoon looking through trash...

At the sound of your movements and the floorboards creaking, he stirred awake, despite seeing you, who he found to be a sight for sore eyes, he was displeased.

"Sweetheart..." Haymitch greeted with a low growl, finding it intriguing to find you in his domain..

"Sorry about the place.." The mentor murmured shyly, embarrassed about the condition of the room, his clothes, and his hair... It was all... So messy.... And reeked of Rum...

"I tried.." Haymitch added, the look of defeat was present on his eyes as he looked up at you with guilt, taking his throbbing head off of the wooden table..

"It's more difficult to stay sober than one would assume..."