It's impossible to spend this much time with a person without beginning to figure out who they are.

That's why Effie isn't surprised when Haymitch drunkenly stumbles off of the next train. And that's why Haymitch is only slightly surprised when Effie's there to catch him.

She hauls him back home, not to the Training Center but to her own residence, on the twenty-seventh floor of one of the most prestigious apartment complexes in the capitol. When there are no Hunger Games over which to agonize, this is where she comes. It's a quiet place, her own place. Stress-free and perfect.

Well, maybe not perfect. It's a little lonely. But she'll never admit that out loud, especially not to him.

Effie drags Haymitch over to the sofa and lays him down. He automatically throws out his arms and legs and begins to snore loudly. Wrinkling her tiny nose, Effie carefully arranges his limbs into a more comfortable— and more aesthetically pleasing— position. She prays that he won't vomit on the upholstery like last time.

"Effie..." Haymitch mumbles. "I need... aaaah... I need a drink..."

"No, you don't," says Effie crisply. "You've had quite enough."

"Ne'er enough, Effie..." says Haymitch. "One more...?"

"No, Haymitch," Effie replies curtly. She turns on her high heel and walks primly over to her bookshelf, where she selects a history text. She takes a seat in her chair, opens the book and begins to read.

Haymitch studies her through half-opened eyes. He blinks blearily. "I di'nt know you could- could read."

"Nice to know I can still surprise you," quips Effie.

"Shur'prise?" slurs Haymitch. "Please. I know... err'thing aboutchoo."

Effie hides a smile. "Do you?"

"I know err'thing 'bout err'thing," Haymitch says in a singsong voice.

"Hmph," says Effie. "Well, did you know that..." She flips to a random page in her history book. As she reads, her eyes widen. She glances at the calendar, then focuses on Haymitch, and when she speaks, there's a real note of surprise in her voice. "Haymitch, did you know that today is Valentine's Day?"

"Valentine... what?" asks Haymitch.

"Valentine's Day," says Effie, almost absentmindedly, turning the page. "It was a holiday all about love. We celebrated it a long time ago, but over time we started to forget..."

Effie reads the next section of the book for so long that Haymitch begins to fall asleep. He's yanked back to consciousness by the sudden sound of her voice.

"Haymitch?"

"Whut?" groans Haymitch.

"Will you be my valentine?"

The question is small and shy and age-old, and it forces Haymitch to sober up for a second and give her an answer. Somehow, he manages to stir, wipe his drool on his sleeve, and pull himself up into a sitting position. Haymitch even opens his eyes all the way, in order to properly see the two Effies that fluctuate before him. One corner of his mouth pulls up in a drunken smirk.

"Nah."

Then he falls back onto the couch and starts to snore again, this time into one of Effie's best pillows.

Effie smiles, shakes her head, and returns to her book.

She didn't expect anything less.