In the end, she knew she'd known better from almost the very beginning; that for far too long she'd actively ignored the voice that had been telling her to cut her losses, to finish it, to kick him to the curb. She still wasn't entirely sure why she hadn't listened - likely stubbornness or displeasure at upsetting the delicate balance of friendship, though most probably it had been the idea that if she was in a relationship, people would stop incessantly trying to set her up on dates. Which, if she was perfectly honest, was exactly the reason why she'd ended up dating her neighbours' brother in the first place.

Ultimately, though, when even the idea of a date with her co-worker's stamp collecting still-living-at-home son had seemed more appealing than continuing to date Cato Anderson, she'd cut it off, albeit three months later than she should have. He was officially the biggest douchebag she'd ever met in her life, and in sucking down the rest of the ridiculously overpriced cocktail she'd ordered on a whim, Katniss Everdeen toasted herself for finally paying attention to the warning signs.

"I'll take another, Haymitch," she demanded once it was empty, tipping her head at the bartender.

He lifted an eyebrow wryly. "You ever heard of please?"

Katniss scowled at him; a man in his mid-forties, with scruffy black hair edging towards salt and pepper, and a permanent look of vague disinterest on his face. It was probably that - his general not-give-a-shit demeanour - that had made her a regular at The Seam since she'd moved to Panem the year before. He kind of felt like a kindred spirit. "You really want to speak to me about pleasantries, old man?"

He laughed, a sound that landed somewhere between a bark and a cough, and leant an elbow on the bartop. "Got me there, sweetheart. But you sure you want another of those? They don't call them a Firecracker for nothing."

"I'm sure," she said firmly.

"Alright then," he sighed, throwing the dishcloth he held over his shoulder. "Just don't throw up all over my damn toilet whenever you're inevitably hanging over it later."

"Yeah, yeah, drink," Katniss said, pointing towards the shelves of alcohol, then reached into her pocket as she felt her phone buzz.

Finnick (sent 6.32pm): I just dropped by - you're not at home. You'd better not be wallowing over that asshole.

Katniss (sent 6.35pm): Hardly. I'm out drinking.

Finnick (sent 6:36pm): Not commiserating?

Katniss (sent 6:37pm): Nope. Celebrating.

Finnick (sent 6.40pm): Good. Want some company?

Katniss (sent 6:42pm): Nah, I'm okay. Go spend the night with Annie.

She pocketed her phone, pleased when she looked up to see her drink prepared and already waiting for her. But, she realised in immediate frustration, not as pleased to see that the seat beside her had been taken, now occupied by some preppy looking guy in a suit with perfectly rumpled blond hair, and his fingers drumming a familiar rhythm on the bar top.

All the free seats in the bar, and he had to pick that one.

Shifting and angling her body so that it was obvious she wasn't interested in small talk, Katniss sucked on the straw eagerly, mentally ticking off a list of things she'd never, ever have to do again now that she wasn't with Cato. She'd never have to go to TGI Friday's, never have to watch those shitty no-brainer comedies that he loved and she hated, never have to pretend to like his idiot friends. That alone deserved a bucket full of cocktails, because those guys had rated about an 18 on the dudebro scale of 1 to 10.

"So is that any good?"

Katniss reluctantly slid her gaze to the right, towards the voice belonging to the blond man beside her, and shrugged. "It's doing the job I want it to."

"Which is?"

She ran her tongue across the front of her teeth. "Getting me drunk."

Suit laughed, turning slightly on the stool to look at her more directly - and she immediately hated him for doing so. Because he was hot - like really hot. And she wasn't here to talk to cute guys. She was here to get sorta drunk and celebrate about getting rid of one. "Well, if that's what they're good for, then maybe I should have one too."

"If you want to," she replied noncommittally, hunching herself over her glass so she wasn't tempted to look at him again.

"I'll have one of those, Haymitch," he piped up.

"Sure. Haven't seen you in a while."

"Why, miss me?"

"You spend money here, kid, so my bottom line does." There was an awkward beat of silence, and Katniss had to fight the curiosity to glance back up at him.

"Work's just been busy, that's all," he finally murmured.

"Boring."

"Yeah, I know."

Neither of them said anything more, and she heard, rather than saw, Haymitch move down the other end of the bar and begin trading insults with one of the other servers. The names they called each other alone were enough to make her feel like laughing out loud, and even though she didn't, she still grinned to herself stupidly. And because grinning stupidly meant the alcohol was finally starting to thrum in her blood, she was happy. It was exactly what she'd been aiming for.

She sipped at the last of her drink, then leant backwards slightly, arching and stretching her back as she glanced around her at the half-full bar. It was a mix of groups of people enjoying post-work drinks and couples cosily huddled together in booths before they inevitably moved along to somewhere else fancier and a shitload dearer. And looking beside her, she noted in surprise that Suit was already three quarters of the way through his drink.

"Good choice," he approved when he caught her eye.

"It's alright, I guess. I just think Haymitch enjoys the idea of burning peoples insides with alcohol."

He laughed, revealing two rows of straight white teeth, and a smile that quirked up slightly more on the left than the right. Her stomach flipped crazily, with what she was worried was more than just the cocktails. "So what's got you in here on this Friday night needing alcohol to do a job? Work?" he asked conversationally, reaching up to loosen the tie that was around his neck.

Katniss grimaced. Great. She hadn't intended to encourage him to start a proper conversation. "Guy trouble," she said simply, hoping it would put him off. She didn't need cute and funny right now.

"Same," he sighed in response, and Katniss looked up in surprise, only to have him laugh again. "I'm kidding. Well...it's a guy who led me to need a drink, but I don't think in the same way as you."

She screwed her nose up. "That's a bit presumptuous, don't you think?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "So your guy trouble stole your work and claimed credit for it?"

Huh. He had her there, she supposed. "No."

"Then there you go. Is it an ex of yours?"

She eyed him again warily. "I'm not buzzed enough to talk about it."

"Then let's have another," he said simply, lifted his hand towards Haymitch. "I heard once that venting can be a good thing."

"Where, on Dr Phil?" She snorted.

"Nah, the Internet," he countered with a grin.

Another drink later, she was on the teetering around the first edge of drunk, the stage where she knew her tongue was a little bit looser and her reluctance to open up slipped away.

"So he was an asshole," she announced abruptly.

"Who?" By now, Suit had slipped a pair of black framed glasses on, and Katniss was finding it hard to look at him. His attractiveness factor had blown through the roof the moment he'd put them on, tugged his jacket off and rolled up his shirtsleeves. Good God.

"Cato. The reason why I'm here," she told him with a roll of her eyes. "He was an asshole. I thought I had a pretty good bullshit barometer, you know."

"But you don't?" he blinked, once, twice, three times, and even behind his glasses she could see the long, blonde lashes tangle up. She was pretty sure her best friend would kill for those lashes.

"I do," Katniss said emphatically. "But it mustn't have worked with him."

"Why not?"

"Because he was cheating. Pretty much the whole 4 months we were together, and I had no clue. And now he's preparing to be a dad."

"He got another girl pregnant?" Suit's eyes widened. "Shit, that sucks."

Katniss waved a hand in an attempt to look dismissive, but instead just managed to make it appear like she was playing over-exaggerated charades. "I don't care about that. Well, I do, but not because I care about him. I shouldn't have stayed with him as long as I did, because towards the end I didn't even particularly like him. It's that whole 'not being honest' that's pissed me off. The sneaking around."

He nodded in sympathy. "I know, that's whyI'm here too. I've been working on this proposal at work for months. Stupid long hours, lots of research, just about ready to present it to my bosses. And my co-worker swooped in, stole my idea, presented it to the head honchos and voila! Immediate promotion for him, stuck in no man's land for me."

Katniss screwed her nose up. "Seriously? But can't you do anything about that? Prove it's yours?"

He ran a hand through his hair, sending the blond waves into a disordered mess, before resting his elbow on the bar, dropping his chin into his upturned palm. His sigh was long and low and deep and Katniss winced. Not because it was a bad sound - far from it - but because she had to squeeze her thighs together to alleviate the tension that had settled low in her core. Say no to suits, Katniss. Say no to suits. "Nah, trust me, it wouldn't get me anywhere. The Managing Director is this guy's uncle. Nothing he does is wrong, nothing I do is right. Somehow, no evidence I would provide that it was mine would be good enough."

"Then it sounds to me like you need a new job."

He nodded despondently in agreement. "Yeah, you're right. It's just hard finding good graphic design gigs, you know. And they were a good company to work for, otherwise."

"Still not worth it," Katniss told him. She pushed her straw into her glass, rattled the ice around. "I wish I'd listened when my instincts told me Cato wasn't worth it."

"I thought you said your bullshit barometer had been off?"

"Yeah, well...The warning signs were there, they just didn't scream at me that he was out banging other chicks."

He chuckled. "It's not something I guess you want to think about having to worry about, right?" He lifted his glass to his lips, finished the last of his drink. "Been there, done that too."

"Gotten a girl pregnant while cheating on another?"

Suit lifted his hand to his chest, his face contorting in a mock grimace. "Ahhhh, that hurts. Didn't think I looked like the kind of guy who'd do that."

"They rarely do," Katniss pointed out.

"Humph," he replied, lowering his hand back to the bar. He traced patterns on the wood with his finger, drawing the condensation around. "Well, regardless, no - I got cheated on a few months ago. But in the end, it worked out for the better."

"It normally does," she agreed. "But sorry for the cheating thing, and the work. Your year has been shit. Betrayed all over the damn place."

"Pretty much," he lifted his glass in a mock toast. "Here's to us and our shitty year, right?"

They clinked glasses, and whether it was intentional or not, she didn't know. But more of their hands clinked than the glasses themselves, and Katniss was shocked at the bolt of electricity that shot down her arm. Which was stupid, because stupid things like that only happened in stupid movies. Right?

Right?

They stared at each other for a moment, before Suit coughed lightly, looked back down at the bar. "Uh, want another?"

"Why not?" Katniss said, her face flushed from alcohol, and absolutely nothing else. Definitely nothing else. She glanced away, her eye catching the time clock on the wall. "It's pretty late though; shouldn't you be going home soon to your girlfriend?"

The moment the words were out of her mouth, she wanted to facepalm, wanted to sink into the ground and let it swallow her up. She couldn't believe she was fishing. And so obviously too. She never fished, ever.

Maybe she was drunker than she thought.

He smiled, pushed his glasses back up his nose. "Nah, no girlfriend, so I can stay out as long as I like."

The words were like vomit, and she couldn't keep them back. "But I thought you said being cheated on worked out for the better?"

"Oh it did," he assured her, turning to call out their drink order to Haymitch before twisting back to her. "It means that rather than being at home tonight, I'm here. Drinking what very well could be paint stripper, and talking to you."

She rolled her eyes. "Wow. Do you try that on every buzzed girl in every bar?"

"Nope," he shook his head, glanced over at her through those glasses, and under those long, stupid lashes. And when he spoke next, his voice was low, almost throaty. "Never."

Oh.

They sat in silence for a moment, until Haymitch slammed their glasses on the bar - they both looked up in surprise to see him scowling down at them. He pointed dismissively, first at her, then Suit. "She's Katniss. He's Peeta. Drink these, then go and frigging flirt somewhere else. I don't want to see this shit," he grumbled before stalking off.

Suit - Peeta? - chuckled nervously, while she stared down at the bar, horrified. Flirting? She was going to kill Haymitch.

But when she glanced up again, Peeta was looking at her calmly, his blue eyes dancing with amusement. "Well, I can't say much for his technique, but I have to give him points. It's nice to meet you Katniss." He held out a hand, and she paused for a moment before tentatively reaching out her own, sliding her palm into his.

"It's nice to meet you too, Peeta."