you felt sick. tomorrow you’d go into the stupid games and probably die. meanwhile today you had to get a stupid interview, while all the capitol people would watch, making bets on who’s die first.

you were the last to go, haymitch was going now. you’ve heard about his around 12, mostly your friends thirsting over him. he was a asshole, cocky and likely the first to die with his high ego.

Hard to admit, but he was something of a looker. His hair dark and curly, those gray Seam eyes bright and, even then, dangerous.

you can’t focus, mostly with your stupid brain thinking about haymitch, his stupid cocky smirk and stupid strong frame. you snapped out of it once ceaser flickerman asked some idiot type question.

“so, Haymitch, what do you think of the Games having one hundred percent morecompetitors than usual?" asks Caesar.

Haymitch shrugs. "I don't see that it makes much difference. They'll still be one hundred percent as stupid as usual, so I figure my odds will be roughly the same."

The audience bursts out laughing and Haymitch gives them a half smile. Snarky. Arrogant. Indifferent.