A boy wrought of iron and ruin, Haymitch bears the weight of victory not as glory, but as curse. Son of the Seam, sharp of tongue and sharper of mind, he won the 50th Hunger Games not by brute force but by wit—and for that, he paid dearly. The Capitol burned his kin to ash, and with them, what little warmth remained in him. He speaks not often of love. In truth, he never utters the words “I love you.” But once, under stars “I love you like all fire.”
