Title: Save the Last Dance for Me

Warnings: None

Disclaimer: I don't own The Hunger Games, obviously. Everything belongs to their respective owners.

Effie Trinket sipped a light pink colored drink as she surveyed the ballroom. She neither knew nor cared if it was alcoholic, figuring that if there was ever a night to get a little drunk, this was the night. The only tributes that she had ever escorted to victory were going back into the arena, back to certain death. It was just her luck; after mentoring tributes for 10 years, her tributes finally won during the year before the Quarter Quell. And it just so happened that this year's Quell involved the re-reaping of all of the past tributes.

She should be happy, excited, eating and drinking to her heart's content. Quells only happen every twenty-five years and were cause for much celebration in the Capitol. That was why she was here at this ball. She had come to keep an eye on Katniss and Peeta, to make sure that they didn't do anything to hurt their reputation. She had drug Haymitch along, telling him that it was important to look presentable and go to social events. The more sponsors the better. He had begrudgingly agreed to come, if only for the alcohol.

It was physically painful to be standing in this ballroom, watching all of these old tributes—heroes from her childhood—mingle and attempt to make cheerful conversation when everyone knew that all but one of them would be dead in a short time. These people, these victors, were the people that she had looked up to all of her life. She had seen almost all of their Games, seen the bloody battles that got them to where they were now. These people were the reason that she became an escort and they were all lined up for slaughter right before her eyes. Again. And there was nothing she could do about it.

She turned back to the bartender and asked for another drink, something harder. The bartender gave her a smirk and a wink, turning to get her drink. He filled up her glass, placed it in front of her, and leaned on the counter in what Effie supposed he thought was a seductive way. He ran a hand through his perfectly coiffed , bright purple hair and flashed her another crooked grin. On any other day, she would have flirted back, maybe even going as far as asking him out. He was her usual type, but something about his blinding white smile and his green lipstick seemed fake, sleazy even.

"So, the great escort Effie Trinket drinks." He commented, as she picked up the glass without a word. "Didn't know you had it in that pretty little body of yours. Say, you want to have a good time tonight?" he asked, leaning over and whispering the last sentence in her ear. Suddenly, she felt a large hand wrap around her waist, pulling her close. She looked up, surprised, and noticed Haymitch Abernathy standing next to her. It took her a few seconds to register that the hand planted firmly on her waist belonged to him, of all people.

The bartender looked surprised as Haymitch gave him a dirty look.

"She's mine, purple-hair. Get your greasy paws off her." Haymitch growled, pulling her closer. The bartender let out a forced laugh.

"She's yours? I think you might have had a bit too much alcohol again, filthy drunk. A pretty thing like her would never stand to be with a drunk like you." He snickered. Effie felt Haymitch tensing against her side. She grabbed him by the wrist and pulled him away from the bar.

"What were you thinking?" she hissed, slapping his hand that still lingered on her waist.

"That bastard was trying to get you in bed. I thought you'd appreciate it, sweetheart." He smirked down at her.

"Don't you 'sweetheart' me, Haymitch. I can handle myself." She stepped closer to him, trying to look somewhat intimidating.

"I don't doubt your abilities, princess. I was trying to be nice. Remind me not to try that again." Effie stomped back to the bar angrily, walked over to the purple-haired man and kissed him full on the mouth. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Haymitch staring at them with a strange anger in his eyes. It looked almost…jealous.

To be continued?

Leave reviews, please! Tell me if you liked it or not.

This is the first Hayffie fic that I've attempted to write in character, so it's probably not all that good. You can't improve if you don't try, right?