The cannon resonated in the air.

This one had put up a good fight, but in all honesty he wasn't a match for his opponent. His counterpart had died at the bloodbath at the cornucopia, a knife to the heart. She was a nice girl. She didn't deserve to die in that manner. No one did.

Effie had let out a squeal and winced, silent tears falling down her face. I tried to tell her it wasn't worth crying over. It was her first Hunger Games, though, so I understood.

My first year as a mentor, I cried and cried, reliving the memories of my own Hunger Games. I remembered the screams of pain as my fellow tributes died one by one, holding Maysilee's hand as she left this world, the axe bared into the girl's head. I was a killer. These hands, covered in the blood from the other tributes, belonged to the Capitol. Hate, pure unadulterated hate, for myself and the Capitol, coupled with the pain from the memories was too much. I couldn't handle it.

The next year, I tried to look at the Games from an analytical perspective, like the wretched Gamemakers and the ignorant Capitol citizens. I tried to see them as only pawns in a game. But they weren't and I couldn't pretend. I was supposed to mentor these kids, but all I could do was to prepare them to die. District twelve wasn't a fighting district; we barely had enough food to survive, much less to become strong and actual fighters. It was impossible not to look at these kids, as kids, when I had to get to know them in order to try to help them, which I have since given up on, and it added to my guilt when they died.

So I turned to alcohol. The stronger the spirits, the better. I drank until I forgot my own name. But I also forgot the pain I felt when I was sober. Even though it made me a joke, the laughing stock to the entirety of Panem, it overrode the pain and that was what mattered. Let them laugh, it didn't matter. Nothing mattered in this life of death I lived.

"District 12," the guard grunted, opening the iron door that led out of the viewing room. Now that both our tributes were dead, we no longer could stay with the other mentors whose tributes were still in the running.

We silently ascended the stairs of the training building until we reached the twelfth floor. Effie's breath was hitching, not because the work was vigorous, but because of what she had just witnessed. The boy…his death had been gruesome.

He had managed to escape the bloodbath at the cornucopia. He hid in the forest and made it through the first day. But he had not gone in far enough to completely conceal him. The next day he was tracked down by the careers. They found him and one of them went after him with a knife. He tried to fend him off with his hands alone, but he didn't last for long. They dismembered him, leaving a bloody, grotesque pulp.

It wasn't as if there hadn't been worse incidents during the Hunger Games, which I'm sure Effie had watched her entire life. It was just that this time she had known the person. She had eaten meals with him and conversed with him. Prepared him for interviews and prepped him with advice. Knowing him, and seeing him die like that, it would be hard for anyone.

When we reached the floor, I immediately called for an avox to bring a few bottles of liquor to my room. Hard liquor. I had already drunk this morning, but not enough to make me forget.

I turned my head to my room when my arm was suddenly in a vice-like grip. I turned to see Effie, her hand wrapped around my wrist, eyes glassy with tears, widened in fear.

"H-Haymitch," Effie whispered, shakily, "D-don't leave me, p-please."

Now, Effie wasn't, by far, my favorite person in any type of situation. She was too capitol for my taste, from her vivacious pink hair to her nauseating capitol accent. But right now it wasn't her capitol mannerisms that stood out, but the vulnerability in her eyes. The sheer distraught and sorrow in her face unearthed me. I had to face my first Hunger Games, not counting the one I was in, alone. I wasn't going to make Effie do the same.

"C'mon," I grunted, and with Effie's grip on my arm, we made our way to my room.

When we got to my room, we both took a seat on the bed and Effie immediately burst into tears. She clutched at my t-shirt and buried her head in there. I wasn't an expert on crying women, but I knew enough not to push one away. I adjusted her so that my arm was wrapped around her waist and her hands were around my neck. And then I just sat there and let her cry, because she needed to let it out. I didn't say anything, didn't do anything, because there was nothing I could do to erase the memories.

When the avox came, I motioned for him to leave the bottles and glasses on the table and then he left. Effie cried for a long while, until the hard sobs alleviated into soundless tears. When she finally stopped, she didn't remove her arms from me and I didn't extricate her either.

"I'm s-sorry," Effie hiccoughed, her breath shaky, "that was aw-awful. How could they—"

"Shh…" I cut her off. The last thing we needed was for her to bad talk the capitol, when they could surely hear everything that was going on in this room. She would most definitely regret this in the morning. She may be distraught now, but she was capitol through and through. Raised traits are hard to break.

I gently lifted her hands off my shoulders. I shushed her protest and continued on to the table where the liquor was. I poured two shots of straight vodka and passed one to Effie.

She looked at it unsurely, before downing the entire contents. It wasn't what she was used to, not fruity and light like they served at the parties in the capitol, so she choked a little. But a few moments later she held out her glass again.

Soon we were both taking shots by the second. The world was blurring and I was entering a world of forgetfulness. As usual, I was becoming sullen and bitter under the influence. Effie, too, seemed to be feeling the effects because she was half bawling, half giggling like a school girl.

"Haymitch," she said suddenly, "I (giggle) I-I have something to tell you."

"What?" I snapped, crossly.

Her eyes widened in shock, tears starting to fill them, and she lifted both hands to her mouth, dropping her full glass from it hand so it slopped on the bed, rolled off, and broke on the floor.

"Great!" I roared, "Just great! What the hell d'you do that for?"

She shrieked and a giggle escaped from behind her hands. "I'm sorry, Hay—Haymi—Hayme…" her face scrunched in concentration, "What's your name again?" But then her face brightened. "Never mind! I'll call you Hayme!"
"Like hell you—" I started, but she wasn't listening.

She was laughing and singing. "Hay-me! Hay-me! Hay-me, Hay-me, Hay-meeeeeee!"

Effie ended in a loud, obnoxious screech that made me cover my ears. "Shut up, you blasted woman!"

She gasped, then, unfortunately, poked me in the chest and said, "You're really grumpy, Hayme!"

"I'm sitting next to a screeching woman in a pink wig, hell yeah, I'm grumpy."

"Hay-me, grumpy, Hay-me, grumpy," she continued to sing jubilantly.

"Shut up!" I roared.

"Okay," she giggled, "but I still have to tell you something…remember? Remember? Remember?"

"Just spit it out," I told her, guzzling what was left of my liquor.

She widened her eyes. "May the, umm, chances be, umm….good? Damn it! What is it I always say when…when…"

Her face fell and tears started to leak out of the corner of her eyes. "It's my fault," she said, quietly.

It sobered me. Not literally, but I saw past the inhibitions to the woman sitting in front of me. It awaked a part of me that I didn't know existed within me. A good guy. A sensitive guy. A better person.

"No, it's not," I told her. I hesitantly reached out and wiped a tear off her face.

She closed her eyes and leaned into my hand. Slowly, she reopened them and pierced me with her baby blue eyes glistening with unshed tears. A feeling arose in my stomach.

"Haymitch," she pleaded, breathlessly. She bit her lip and gave me a knowing look.

I reacted immediately. I moved my hand to the side of her neck and fastened my lips on top of hers. She reciprocated the desire vigorously, knotting her hands in my hair and moving her lips roughly with mine. She moved to straddle my waist, pushing me down so she lay on top of me, grinding her hips on mine. I growled in satisfaction as she licked my bottom lip and deepened the kiss.

Effie's ferocity was welcoming, raw desire coursing through my veins. I removed my lips from hers, kissing down her jaw line and sucking on her neck. She moaned my name and found my lips once again.

I was awoken by a flurry of movement. I opened my eyes to see Effie shuffling about the room, picking up her stray clothes that had found their way across the room, immodestly showing her naked body. I let myself enjoy the view.

"Going somewhere, sweetheart?"

She screamed and turned around. Crossing her arms and pursing her lips, she chastised me. "Haymitch, your room is filthy! I can't find anything!"

I raised my eyebrows. "From last night I was under the impression that you liked thins…dirty."

She scoffed, buttoning the dress she had worn the previous day. "Your tact is abysmal, like the rest of your low life district."

"You didn't seem to mind my tact when you were—"

"Haymitch!" she admonished. "Last night was just a brief lapse of judgment never to be repeated. You got me drunk and made me think that I was attracted to you."

I eased off the bed and crossed the room, until I was right in front of Effie. I leaned down so our breaths intermingled and our lips were inches apart. "I don't think it was the alcohol that made you find me attractive," I whispered, seductively.

"Y-y-yes it—" I interrupted her proclamation, grabbing her waist, pulling her hips to mine and kissing her roughly.

She pushed me away and yelled, "Haymitch!" She adjusted her fully fastened dress and stood aloof. "Now, breakfast is in ten minutes, and you need to be on a train back to District twelve by midday. Don't be late."

After she recited her memorized schedule, she promptly exited the room. Lying back down on the bed, I laughed and shook my head. Something's just never change.

A/N: This is my first time doing a story like this...meaning both the mature parts and it being a one-shot. Please don't be too harsh if it totally sucked, but be honest and tell me what you think. Please review!