It was quiet. The train was silently making its journey to the Capitol, free of any bumps and jerks. Outside, the sun was just showing itself over the low-laying scenery. Inky blue was mixing with orange and pink. In Haymitch Abernathy's room, the blinds were pulled most the way down; only slithers of light found their way into the room. Had he been able to move, the man would have stumbled his way over to the window and pulled it further down, blocking out the sun from invading his sleep. He silently resented the fact Effie Trinket was sleeping on his arm, simply because now he had to suffer through the sun rising and hurting his eyes.

Nothing was meant to have happened. Haymitch had been drinking, he said a few things that had Effie flustered and going on screaming at him about manners. She had that angry look in her eyes and Haymitch was finding it alluring. Almost a turn on. It was all followed up with hard kisses, make up smudged, clothes being peeled off and Haymitch carry the district escort to his bedroom. There had been more fucking than love making; fucking took less feeling, less admitting there was something between them. Effie had fallen asleep less than an hour before the sun started showing itself.

The woman stirred for a second, turning over onto her side, her back to Haymitch. A fit of selfishness took over and Haymitch pushed the covers down to just cover their legs. He was too hot and thought Effie looked better without the sheets anyway. There was a small urge to reach out, run his hand up her back and across her milky shoulders, but he fought it, knowing the roughness of his hands would wake her. The smoothness of her skin didn't fail to astound him. He just wanted to trace the contours of her body, memorise them all. Such a delicate thing should never have been in his bed. And she was delicate; there were pale bruises on her hips, from where his fingers had dug into her too hard.

Behind all that make up, Haymitch decided, Effie was really quite pretty. But you had to get past the layers first. Her wig hid light brown hair. It was shorter than his own but long enough to have to push out her face. In a strange way it was charming. Her eyes were blue once he contacts were removed. But Haymitch guessed she hadn't been born with blue eyes. He always assumed Effie would be all for the cosmetic surgery but so far she had proved conservative about it. Changing her eye colour seemed the type of thing Effie would do. The make up hid a pretty face, enviable cheek bones and soft, kissable lips. She took good care of herself and then hid it away behind cosmetics and clothes.

Effie Trinket, Haymitch decided, was a butterfly. She hid among flowers, unable to see her own beauty. Everything people did ruined her, damaged those wings somehow, marred her beauty in one way or another. He could tell her time and time over she was better off with out all the make-up but she never would listen.

So why the fuck did he care?