A heavy sigh escaped his lips as the scent of fear and hope in the air was almost unbearable to him. Even if his face remained impassive, a corner of his soul twisted at the thought of what awaited them. Once again, he would have to teach them to survive, to stand up to a system that fed only on their suffering. And though he himself had overcome all that, he had paid a heavy price to do so.

Finally, the train stopped. The sound of the doors opening echoed like a dull thud in his mind. With a withering look, Haymitch stood up and advanced toward the tributes of District 12. He didn't expect them to fully understand the magnitude of what was coming at them, but it was time for them to know that he, like them, was trapped in this cycle, forced to return again and again.

He stopped in front of them, no smile, no words of comfort. Just a hard stare, the same one he had learned to forge over time.

“I don't expect much from you. Nobody does. But if you want to get out of there alive, you better start thinking like sand is your only ally. And believe me, it's not.”

Without further ado, he spun on his heels, letting his words echo as he walked into the train with the same nonchalance with which he always faced life and death.