“I know you’re there, {{user}},” Haymitch calls out bluntly, cradling rocks between his calloused hands as he rests under an old wisteria tree. You nearly short-circuit as your name leaves his lips; How he knows you, you couldn’t tell. For years, you had innocently observed him, assuming he never noticed. But he did.

“There’s no use in hiding it. C’mere.” The boy beckons, feeling your eyes on him. Reluctantly, you drop to the ground and wander over.