Haymitch

Ten years after the war and you’d think her parent’s would either die or get over it.
But no. Effie adjusts my collar on the train, and I’m desperately trying not to think about how she did this 30 years prior.

“Leave it, It’s fine,” I say, waving her hands away from my neck.
She sits across from me, fiddling with the wig she bought for the special occasion.
It’s still remarkably toned down compared to her usual look, a platinum blonde rather than what she would’ve worn during games season.
Her dress was new too, a delicate mix between the capitol she grew up in and us from the district's influence.
It was a greyish green, sage, she calls it. She doesn’t comment on my lack of care about my collar, but instead focuses on her nails, which are unlacquered.

“I really think we should stop somewhere before going to their house specifically,” She says, picking at her nails.
I nudge her calf with my boot-clad foot, her dress pooling around its toe.
“We’re gonna be pressed for time, hun,” I say, leaving the decision in her corner.
She bites her lip, a newer habit, used for holding back screams in capitol cells.
Katniss perks her head up from Peeta’s shoulder, curled up in his lap like a cat.

“Want my gloves?” Katniss asks, taking off her black opera length gloves, revealing her skin graft scars, still as red as when she got them.
Effie looks slightly conflicted, before snatching them up and sliding them onto her hands.
Katniss doesn’t notice the way her hands shake, or the wideness of her eyes, and she immediately lays her head back down.

Peeta, Effie’s cellmate, now knows exactly how to calm her down, he rubs Katniss’s back before askin Effie. “Who all’s gonna be there?” Effie sits up and smiles.
“The whole family is coming into town, usually it would just be father, Peridot, and Crystal, but her husband and children are coming in as well,” she says,
smoothing her dress while I soothingly rub the side of her leg with my boot.

“Kids are Brandy and Cosmo,” I say, and we all know why I remember that.
“Husbands name is something flouncy, like uh, Aperitif or Rouche,” I continue.
Effie rewards me with a wider smile.
“His name is Monticello, his family chooses their names after famous locaions,” she continues.

“I like yours better,” I conclude. Effie continues to praise my efforts with a blush on her cheeks when Peeta turns to Katniss’s chagrin.

“What’s Effie for?” he asks. I start to reply when Effie cuts me off.

“Persephone, a greek goddess,” She says. “I prefer Effie though,” she finishes with a sharp look to me. “The goddess has certain connotations,” she finishes.

“Queen of hell,” I reply, resting my head on my bent arm, mimicking some lovesick boy, batting my eyes till Effie nudges my leg back.
She looks at me slightly shocked for a minute before turning to Peeta.

“Goddess of spring, when I was born,” Effie replies kindly.
Persephone’s also like a fertility goddess and spends half her year in hell with her husband the God of death,
so it’s pretty fitting with me being me and Effie having that body she does, but the boy doesn’t need to know that.
Peeta makes an ‘ohh’ noise, before going back to Katniss.
When Peeta’s gaze shifts, her face falls slightly, allowing herself to sag into the seat.
“Can you believe they actually did it?” she asks me, looking a mix of appalled and grateful, a tone she’ll keep for this whole dinner.

“That Kronos and Peridot Trinket had ties to the government? Nooo,” I reply, rolling my eyes, looking at her through my eyebrows.
She twirls her synthetic hair, and sighs. I meet her gaze.
“I think its kinda fuckin ridiculous, I mean, wouldn’t they want us districts as far from them as possible?” I ask.

“Katniss is the world's biggest celebrity, it's a huge ego boost for them. Plus, I would have only attended if you all would as well,” Effie continues.

“Was nice of your parents to let us stay with them, we don’t have to stay in the president's mansion anymore,” Peeta says cheerfully.

“Downside is we hafta talk to them,” I say, before looking at Katniss, “Most of us at least,” I tack on.

“Truthfully speaking darling I don’t believe they will think you’re coherent,” she says with a sigh.
I look over quickly to check the two other victors are occupied before I slide into the bench seat next to her, pulling her into my arms.
She tenses, then sags into me, I rest my chin on top of her wig, while my hand caresses her arm, brushing over her gloves. I kiss her faux hairline.
“We don’t have to go,” I repeat for what must’ve been the hundredth time.

“They got Katniss permission to travel, if we don’t go now, they will come to twelve, and bring a camera crew with them,” She murmurs.

“You mean ‘Mockingjay’?” I ask jokingly, one of the ways Paylor tried to seperate panem from anything before the revolution.
She officially renamed all the districts, calling them states, but no one calls them that.
Why would I want all the memories?
Most of the districts are named after fallen rebels, which means, Victors.
Effie hated it, we all hated it. None of us were included, hell, I think Paylor did it on their own.
I just remember Effie trying to hide mail from me, because everything from eleven was called “Seedling.” Effie huffs.

“Honestly,” we sat in comfortable silence.
The train eventually stops.
She sighs and taps my thigh, and I release her from my hold.
“At least it didn’t take a week this time,” she says brightly.

“Now we only have to get out alive,” Katniss says, standing and grabbing her and Peeta’s bags. I snort.

“Don’t test our luck, it’s not good historically,” I joke back, before seeing Effie’s look and clearing my throat.
“It’ll be fine, Effie’s family are good people,” I say. I take Effie’s hand firmly.

***

"Persephone, so glad you could make it, and so. . . comfortable,” Peridot says with a chemically white smile.
Effie bows her head slightly, tugging down her dress.

“Thank you Peridot,” Effie says with a faux demure smile, not unlike a dog bearing its teeth. “May we come in?”
“Yes, yes of course, wipe your feet,” Peridot says, struggling to not look pointedly at me as she enters. Her butler holding the heavy oak door in such silence I basically forgot he was there, guess that’s the point though.
“You’re scowling dear,” Effie says through clenched teeth, and I plaster on my Victor smirk of old.
“Better?” I ask, watching as Peeta enters with his hand on a cane, and his other looped around Katniss’s shoulders. Effie doesn’t respond, but straightens her spine impossibly, as we enter a deceptively warm household, her father rising to meet us in the obscenely long hallway.

“Ah there's my girl!” he calls out, his arms immediately pulling a stiff Effie into a hug, her arm awkwardly hanging out, still attached to my hand.
Kronos Trinket pulls away, before turning to me. His face hardened.
He nods before extending his hand to shake. “Haymitch,” he says curtly but not unkindly.
I know an act when I see one, and shake his hand once, my grip firm, before immediately slipping it back into Effie’s hand.
He turns and addresses the two, which Peeta affably returns.

“Well let's get these bags set down, Czar, why don’t you take Katniss and Peeta’s to the guestroom on the first floor,
and Effie and her partner can stay in her room,” he says, urging us to hand all our bags to the guy holding the door.
As Czar takes our things upstairs, I am reminded that if Effie’s family had any say, I’d be carrying things too.
But I guess since we saved Panem we’re better than the other district hogs. When Effie squeezes my hand I’m pulled to the drawing room.

We sit on a plastic covered couch, large enough to fit everyone in the house, but one of three, Katniss, sandwiched between me and Peeta.
Effie’s niece and nephew to focussed on their massive puzzle to look up.
The young girl looks up from her puzzle to grab her glass of water, but catches us and makes a b-line for Peeta.
She’s practically vibrating with energy, her blonde hair bouncing wildly,
before she clearly remembers her mother told her to be careful, and takes a step back.
She adjusts the bright pink bow on the top of her head before taking slow steps to the center of the couch,
as if it was her intention the whole time to speak to all of us.

“You must be Brandy,” Peeta says with a practiced casual smile.
It works on both Capitol elite and the children trying to snag sweets when his prosthetic is off. She nods eagerly.

“uh huh!!” she shouts giddily, “It’s a pleasure to make your apprentice!” She says with a smile that takes up half her face.
The line was clearly rehearsed, but Peeta accepts it all the same.

“Pleasure’s mine, I’m Peeta, and this is my wife Katniss,” Peeta says relaxed, Katniss narrows her eyes at the literal nine-year-old.

“Hi Katniss! Mother says I’m not supposed to talk to you about anything difficult, so, bye!” Brandy says quickly before returning to her puzzle.
Just then, Crystal enters, and she’s just as horrifying as I remember.

Her face is a mix between Peridot’s mouselike expression, and traditional Capitol glazed over plastic.
Her eyes light up when she sees Effie and that's the only physical expression she can make.
“Oh darling! I’m so happy to see you,” she kisses each of Effie’s cheeks before acknowledging the rest of us.

“And her little captors, we understand why she stayed away with such exciting characters!” While her face shows practically nothing,
her voice shows her version of genuine joy, so no one brings up the backhanded compliment.
“Oh Katniss, I love your hair! What do you use?” She asks, putting extreme emphasis on ‘love’, ‘do’, and ‘you’.
Katniss, ever the actress, stares terrified at Effie’s stepsister, blinking rapidly.
Crystal puts her hands over her heart and addresses Effie.

“Is she alright?” she asks, and anyone who has seen a capitolite dealing with someone other than perfectly perfect,
knows she’s essentially asking ‘is it contagious?’

“How do you do?” Katniss says, her voice still slightly hoarse despite the years spent in peace.
“Effie buys my hair stuff,” she continues. Before Crystal can, Effie clasps Katniss’s brown braid and runs her hand over it.

“She uses the shampoo you sent me for Christmas, Crystal!
It didn’t work well for my hair type, but you and Katniss have such thick hair, I figured why not?” Effie gushes over Katniss’s hair,
Peeta occasionally chiming in about his apparent ardent struggles with maintaining curl definition.
Effie’s father walks in, saying that Peridot is requesting the women in the kitchen.

“What's in there?” Katniss asks, sitting up.
Effie freezes before turning to Crystal's husband.

“Monty, weren’t you just telling me about your hunting trip?” Upon being called upon, Monticello sits up before nodding.

“Yes, I uh, I brought home three wild turkeys the other day, used my new Remmington,” he says with a quick smile.
I immediately forgive Monticello for literally anything he says tonight because at least he sounds human. Katniss perks up immediately.

“You got a Remmington?” She asks, astonished.

“Yes, one of my colleagues was a peacekeeper in nine,” Monticello says.

“What type of bow do you use for hunting?” he asks.

“Oh, just a regular one, I don’t like the automatics,” she replies simply, launching into a rant about how you lose all control with an automatic or crossbow.
How she rarely even hunts anymore, but she’s thought about using a gun instead.
Kronos looks to be at a loss, because on one hand, his wife asked for the women to go into the kitchen,
but on the other hand, this is the most his son-in-law and Katniss have talked the entire time.
So he stares at the second most powerful person in the room, Effie, at a loss.
Peeta stands, taking Effie’s hand and they walk to the kitchen, and I have to actively remember to loosen my grip on her hand. I groan internally, knowing I won’t have anything better to do rather than talk with Effie’s father about my ever growing role in Panem politics.

“So Haymitch,” Kronos starts, his voice low and his face stone.
He has the trademark Trinket blue eyes and blonde hair, but his skin is permanently reddish, and I think if I get him mad enough I could turn him purple.

“What are your intentions with my daughter?” he asks, when his right eyebrow and lip quirks up, and-oh, he has Effie’s dimples.
I chuckle in the practiced way I always have around people from the capitol, sharp enough to let people know I have teeth, but not that I’ll use them.
I chose the correct line of dialogue and Kronos laughed as well.

“I’m just messing with you, how have you been?” he asks, and I remember why Kronos is the only one Effie talks about without sounding like she’s in pain.

Katniss

The only thing I notice about this meal are Peeta’s cheese buns, at least Effie’s dad assured me that at least Effie’s family don’t take those throw up tablets.
I feel all eyes on me, and it’s not just paranoia.
All of the people in the living room move into the dining room.
Haymitch and I lag behind while the man who Effie called Monty, and Effie’s dad walk into their seats with confidence.

Haymitch takes the lead, with a weird grin plastered on, sitting next to Effie’s dad.
I immediately sit next to him, hopeful that would lead to an end of the stares.
I think Effie’s mom is mad at me, because she looks at me weird, and with her wide eyes and pinched lips, looks rapidly between the one who likes my hair and Effie’s dad.
Effie looks like she’s about to cry.
I now realize Effie probably wanted to sit next to Haymitch. So, I stand up, and offer my seat.

“You can sit,” I say to Effie. Effie smiles at me and quickly takes my hand and I feel like I’m being paraded again.
Effie practically drops me off with Peeta, and looks torn.
I almost ask her what’s wrong, when I realize that all the girls in the house are plating food. I look to Effie, and she smiles.

“You and Peeta have a seat,” she says, when her mom makes a tsk noise.
“They’re still children,” Effie says, as if defending her choice.
Peeta sits down where he was told, we are seated next to the little kids, and Effie hands me and Peeta each a plate of food.
Crystal hands Monty and her kids food, and I quickly realize that none of the men are doing the same.
I shoot a glance at Peeta, and he just shrugs, thanking Effie, and allowing the little girl to ‘help’ him with his napkin.
I turn to the young boy on my left and he looks like he’s being held at gunpoint. He notices my staring and asks.

“So why aren’t you wearing a wig?” I look slightly confused.
”All the adults have wigs, where's yours? Even my father has one,” I look at Monty and realize what I had thought was a small green hat is actually an ill-fitting wig.

“I don’t like them, they feel weird,” I reply.

“I feel the same regarding pants,” the young boy replies sagely, before turning to his potatoes.
I follow his lead. Other than “the kids” making small conversation, everyone else was silent.
Effie didn’t even eat, just staring down at her food like she was waiting for permission.
Haymitch was making a habit of drinking down his water glass at least three times, apologetically wincing at Czar when he came up behind Haymitch.

“So, Mr. Abernathy, what do you do for work?” Monty asks, cutting into his steak.

“Haymitch is fine, I-” Effie cuts him off looking triumphant.

“He is the representative for district 12, he’s on Panems council,” she looks pointedly at Crystal who makes a little ‘ooh’.

“I thought they were calling the districts something different?” Effie’s mom asks, drinking from her glass of wine.

“The professional term would be ‘Mockingjay’, but back home everyone calls it twelve,” Haymitch replies.

“So you come here often to work with Paylor?” Effie’s dad asks. Haymitch rubs his nose scar and replies.

“I work remotely actually, though that’ll change now that Katniss has her travel permits,” he replies.

“Yes, well, next time you are in town, phone me, Monty and I will take you for a drink,” Haymitch’s hands tighten around his glass.

“Nah, I hardly touch the stuff nowadays, but if you have anything you wanna do I’m game,” He replies easily, and I see Effie sag in relief that Haymitch didn’t immediately agree.

“What about the library father?” Effie asks. “Haymitch would likely love your collection-”

“You can read?” Peridot asks with a shocked gasp. Effie’s jaw drops and looks more aghast than Haymitch, who just responds in the affirmative.

“Oh well I just, with the documentary’s coming out- I just, I didn’t-” her stutters.

“With all the papers coming out I’m not entirely sure your taxes were filed,” Effie shoots back. Kronos sighs.

“Persephone, you know she didn’t-” he starts when Effie shoots him a look.

“I know exactly what she meant,”Effie replies firmly. Crystal clears her throat.

“So! How long have you two been serious?” She asked, trying to keep things light, but the way Haymitch and Effie exchanged glances, it’s anything but.

“Bout twenty something years give or take,” Haymitch responds into his water glass.
The rest of the adults seem to not like that, dropping their cutlery and reacting in increasingly dramatic ways. Why is everything in the capitol so theatrical?

“Persephone, is that why you broke off your engagement?” Effie’s mom says looking hurt.

“No Peridot, I broke it off because your friend was fifty when I was fifteen, and was an oddsmaker,” Effie responds daintily, setting down her cutlery.
“Must I reiterate that point incessantly?” she asks rhetorically to Haymitch.

“A decades long love affair, is that why you never moved up?
How many opportunities have you squandered, young lady?” her mom asks, but the scolding seems to go nowhere.

“I never changed positions because I wanted nothing to do with the games, not all of my decisions revolve around people,” Effie responds.
“I am a grown adult and have been for some time,
I do not need to have my relationship interrogated by a woman who has been divorced four times,” Effie fans herself with her nondominant hand.
“Forgive me stepmother, my fuse is much shorter as of late, ” I blink at that.

“So she’s not your real mom?” I ask,

“No dear,” Effie says definitely.

We all sat in silence after that.
Effie had told me once, that family is made by who you want it to.
She told me that after my fifth letter to my mother went unanswered,
I guess she decided awhile ago she'd rather not have any mom than Peridot.

Eventually, people go around and pull dishes, and it seems with every scrape of cutlery another silent argument is had.

“Why don’t we go get settled?” Effie says to her father, who nods.

“Of course, forgive us, we should’ve waited until tomorrow, I knew you would’ve been high strung after the trip,” He replies.

“I’m always high strung when I come here,” She replies.

Effie

“Woww, nice digs,” Haymitch says, entering my childhood bedroom and coming face to face with his victory tour poster. “A fan?” He asks with a smirk in my direction.

“Heckler,” I lie smoothly. “If you ever had tomatoes thrown at you, that was me,”

“No tomatoes,” he muses, opening up our toiletry bag and pulling out my nighttime meds, getting the dose of pills and drawing up the emergency syringe.

He tells me all the time, to just, fall, and that he’ll catch me, it's the least I could do.
That’s what he always says, but it’s not like he’s picking me up off the ground and setting me on the couch,
he’s making a commitment every night to taking care of someone he surely won’t recognize.
I must do something odd with my face because Haymitch looks around the room, looking for any possible trigger.

“Is it the eyes?” He asks, when I nod, Haymitch goes through the tedious process of turning around every single stuffed animal or figurine in my bedroom.

“did you bring the medical tape?” I ask looking through the bag, when I look up Haymitch is holding up my sixth grade diary.

“I can tell ya, but you gotta open this,” He says with a rakish smile, holding up the glittery cover as if I don’t know what it looks like.

“You'd risk my physical injury for the sake of a bit?” I ask jokingly, Haymitch doesn’t think it’s funny though, during the war, I lost a portion of my range.
Maybe I just gained maturity.

“Your hip bothering you?” He asks, looking worried. I scoff.

“God you make me sound like an old woman, no darling, I just wanted to uh,” I trail off, gesturing to the eyes of the Quarter Quell poster.
Haymitch snorts.

“Yeah, but tapes clear love, you bought that jelly shit remember?” I sigh, and he roots around on my vanity.

“Got some flower tape?” He tosses it over, and I catch it, barely.

“I used this for scrapbooking,” I chirp, taking a big strip and covering up the eyes, before just sighing and taking down the poster. “They did not work your angles in that shoot,” I sigh. He laughs,

“Effie, you don’t need my help making you sound like an old woman,” he returns to the task at hand.
“Go brush your teeth and take off that damned wig,” he says, working through the third row of plush animals, there are seven.
“Why do you have so many bears?” he asks, holding up a cotton candy bear, a valentine's day present from one of my boyfriends who I don’t remember.

“Because men thought it would make me love them,” I reply,
walking into my old en suite bathroom to remove the bobby pins in my wig into my old clamshell dish on the counter.

“Had they not figured out the whole fidelity thing?” He asks bemused.

“Yes well, no one does it quite like you,” I reply softened.

Despite everything, screaming matches, the drinking, the games, Haymitch was still the best I ever had.
It was never a question of when he’d cheat or tell me to get a surgery, when he’d tell me he got a girl pregnant because I never could.
Haymitch just had me, and was fine with it. He never tried to change me, and I didn’t change him.
I tried to help him, but addiction isn’t who Haymitch is, never was.

“Must be my district charm, what I lack in literacy I make up for in being vaguely decent as a person and a good roll in the hay,” he responds and I honestly think about screaming.

“I cannot believe her,” I say grabbing my toothbrush.
I start brushing furiously, talking through the foam.
“I actually can believe it, but I had hoped otherwise,” I don’t know if Haymitch can actually understand me, but just letting out his ‘mhmms’ is enough.
I spit out the foam and rinse it out of the sinks basin. “You know I based my whole escort personality off of that witch,” I rant.

“Your sister was alright,” Haymitch says, pulling out my nightgown from our luggage.

“Yes, well she’s finally had a full dose of her mother for the last decade, before her mothers attention was fully on me,” I growl.
I actually growl. I take a deep breath before grabbing the nightgown and going behind my pink changing screen out of habit.
I pause. Before going back out, Haymitch lets out a groan of relief when he takes off his button down.

“Thank you, for being so, affable, I know being in the Capitol must be hard,” I say, undoing the zipper of my dress.
Haymitch turns and smiles at me while I change, his eyes roving over me as if he hasn’t gotten bored yet.

“I always had something in the Capitol I liked, so I’m ok,” he pauses.
“Though, I get why you’re so good with sponsors and stuff,” he shakes his head. “it’s just a constant act, games,” he says taking off his socks and sitting on the bed.

“I wish I could say I never thought of it like that,” I say, grabbing the diary and opening it with its key I hid in my nightstand.

“Here, a bit of light reading,” I say, handing it over.

“I was just jokin love,” he replies, trying to press it back into my hands.

“I know, but, I actually want someone to listen,” I reply, taking lotion from the toiletry bag and running it down my legs and ankles.
He grabs his glasses from his pants pocket and starts to read my loopy cursive, like a soldier with a mission.
I kiss his temple, and his mouth quirks up, I lay my head down on the numerous fluffy pink pillows, and allow myself this moment's peace.

Eventually, it shuts with a small click, and Haymitch stands to brush his teeth and get ready for bed.
He returns and immediately curls around me. I feel his slightly ragged breath from the years of alchohol abuse, and feel his lashes brush my forehead.
He kisses my forehead, and I’m once again reminded of how wrong my family is.
I did not throw away my life for this man, because that implies he wasn’t worth anything.

When his stubble scratches my face slightly I’m reminded why I keep living.
Who supported me when I realized I was promoting genocide, who silently stood by me time after time I screwed up and came back to that penthouse beaten and broken.
It implies I didn’t actively choose any of this life.

“I’d do it again you know,”I reply, burying my face in his chest, allowing him to surround me.

“What?” He asks his hands reverently combing through my plain hair.

“The torture, 13, the trial, all the ‘corrections’ over the years, i’d do it again if it brought me here,” I reply quietly.

He squeezes me tighter but doesn’t reply for a while. Then,
“You still want camellias at our wedding?” I snort.

“Peridot would throw a fit,” and Haymitch bursts out laughing.

“You said the same thing at twelve,” I poke him indignantly in the chest.

“And who says I’m marrying you?” I ask looking up at him,

Haymitch smirks and leans over the nightstand and for a split second I rage because my hair is not done when he proposes.
But no, Haymitch returns with my diary, and on the left is detailed description of how my wedding should go, the right,
a heart with Mrs. Haymitch Abernathy, and a few E+H’s in there as well. My face flushes with embarrassment.

“There's also a ring in my jacket pocket,” Haymitch blurts out.

The moment of silence that follows is deafening.
My family would've wanted to see this, would've wanted him to have asked permission for my hand.
I honestly would've liked him to be wearing pants.
It's everything I was told I shouldn't want and somehow that made it all the more perfect.

All the years of fighting, drama, self inflicted wounds in our relationship, it couldn't stop this.
Despite a literal war ruining me by any standards, he wants to marry me.

I blink at him and he curses, punching the wall behind us.
He's flushed with embarrasment, clearly wanting to do it to live up to my expectations.
Or whatever expectations I thought I was supposed to. I start laughing like a crazy person.

“Is that a no?” He asks, covering his terror with his smirk, coming off as a nervous grimace.

“Ask me properly when we get home,” I reply, kissing him soundly on the lips.
“I think we have a loaf at the house,” Haymitch surges forward and kisses me deeply, his hands wrapping around my cheeks.

It's not our best work, but it feels like every feeling I've had for the past 20 years.
Haymitch’s eyes are misty, but I don’t think he can tell because mine are too. We pull away, and I take a deep breath.

“I hate it here, and I hate how they treat you,
and I don’t care about hospitality right now I just want to see the kids enjoy themselves,” I finish.
I’m anticipating rejection, some lecture on how we must bury these hard feelings for the sake of family.
There must be a gas leak because I completely forgot who my fiance was for a second.
“Oh thank fuck, baby put your shoes on I’ll tell Katniss and the boy, the last train leaves in thirty”

Haymitch runs downstairs and it sounds like a herd of baby elephants.
I quickly take my meds and put on my shoes. only grabbing our toiletry bag before running downstairs.
Katniss is fully dressed and has their bags slung over her shoulder and Peeta is hopping on one leg locking his leg in place.
Peeta stops and quickly runs into the kitchen.

“Peeta if we miss our fucking train because you wanna grab utensils or some shit,” Haymitch growls, crossing his arms over his chest.
I should’ve probably grabbed his shirt too.
Peeta returns with a piece of parchment paper and a sharpie, him and Katniss’s signature scrawled over the top made out to Brandy.

“I forged your signature honey I hope that was ok,” Peeta says to Katniss.

“s’fine,” Katniss says already at the front door.

“Alright Peeta your a good boy lets fuckin MOVE,”
Haymitch says urging everyone out of the house, the front door shutting with finality as we speedwalk like madman to the train station.