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@haymitch-goddamn-abernathy
D'you have more alcohol? 'f not, piss off.
Mod here!
Rules:
- no nsfw, no gore
- be polite
This blog takes place around the time of the 70th Games, before canon events.
Haymitch does swear in my writing of him.
Haymitch likes Effie and has done absolutely nothing about this.
There was a knock on the door. "Hello?" called a cheerful voice with an odd accent. "Is anybody in there?"
@the-mikaelys-family-jewels
[Haymitch took a swig from his bottle and ignored the voice at the door. It sounded too.. cheerful to be District, and the accent wasn't quite Capitol. Like Effie's voice but wrong.]
"Answer if you're alive, sil vous plait? I will need to call an ambulance if you are not!"
[He drained his bottle and threw it at the door. It shattered with a loud crash. That should be answer enough for this... stranger.]
There was a knock on the door. "Hello?" called a cheerful voice with an odd accent. "Is anybody in there?"
@the-mikaelys-family-jewels
[Haymitch took a swig from his bottle and ignored the voice at the door. It sounded too.. cheerful to be District, and the accent wasn't quite Capitol. Like Effie's voice but wrong.]
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[They headed upstairs, dropped their bag in the corner, and next to their bag made a nest of blankets for them to sleep on. After that was done, they grabbed their current knitting project and two disposable plastic water bottles and headed back downstairs]
[They tucked their knitting under their arm and held out a bottle to Haymitch]
Here. It might not taste the best, it’s kind of warm and this isn’t the best brand, but you need to drink water.
[He scowled but, surprisingly, took the water. He jerked his chin towards the sofa.]
Sit. Knit or whatever.
Oh. Okay.
[They went over and sat in front of it on the floor, crossing their legs in front of them, and started working on their hat, which was a pretty turquoise color. The yarn was very nice and soft. They hummed a song as they worked. They were slightly angled towards Haymitch and glanced up at him periodically.]
[He cracked open the book and began to read. At some point, one of his hands came to rest on the top of Sam's head.]
[Sam stopped humming and straightened their back to be closer to the touch. After a beat they started humming again.]
[He let his fingers settle into the kid's hair. The kid looked.. similar to Wyatt. Oddly so. He couldn't stop thinking that this was how old Wyatt's kid would have been if he had grown old enough to have any.]
[They rested their head against his knee, their knitting slowing down with the new positioning.]
[He jerked in surprise. Wyatt had done the same thing-- no. He would not let this good -- truly good -- child be corrupted by his ghosts.]
[Sam sat up quickly and scooted away slightly.]
I’m so sorry, I should have asked first, I know I should have asked first. I won’t do that again.
[Haymitch caught their shoulder, unceremoniously half-dragging them back.]
Fuckin' hell, kid. I don't mind it. Calm your tits.
[They tentatively scooted back and settled back lightly to where they had been.]
If you’re sure?
[He didn't even bother replying, settling his hand back into Sam's hair.]
[After a second, they relaxed again and resumed knitting. The humming started again soon shortly after.]
[The only sounds in the room were those of knitting needles clacking, the boy's humming and the occasional turned page from Haymitch.]
[His hand absently stroked through the boy's hair. He watched as the boy's eyes closed slightly as he began to fall asleep.]
[They finally do fall asleep, twitching slightly and snoring softly]
[Haymitch's eyes softened. He watched the kid for a couple minutes, making sure they were well and truly asleep, before setting down the book and bending down to pick the kid up.]
[He was surprisingly heavy, or maybe Haymitch had gotten far too weak in the last 20 years, because lifting the boy was a struggle. But he managed, ignoring the sharp ache in his back as he walked up the stairs, carrying the sleeping kid to the guest- to their new bedroom.]
[He pushed the door open with his foot, carefully depositing the kid in the nest of blankets by their bag. Quietly, he walked out to his own bedroom and returned with another blanket, which he draped over the kid's sleeping form.]
[After Sam had woken up, they headed downstairs, grabbing a random box of pasta as they went and stuffing a handful of dry noodles into their mouth.]
[They headed down the stairs, putting the box of pasta on the table as they stuffed another pasta handful in their mouth and went out the door in search of flowers for the table.]
[Haymitch hadn't slept much anyway, nightmares haunting him, so he walked downstairs soon after Sam had left, looking around for the kid. When he didn't see them, he checked their room, panic flaring within his chest when they weren't there either.]
Sam?
[He called out, hoping for an answer. But none came. With sinking dread, he grabbed a bottle and drank. There was nothing else he could do.]
[A few minutes later, Sam came back in, closing the door none-too-quietly, and ran up to their room, grabbing a tin can to put the flowers they had found in. The flowers were pretty, pink with spikes on them. They plopped them in the can and then put the can on the center of the table.]
[Haymitch glared at them from the sofa, half-empty bottle in hand.]
Where th' hell were ya?
Getting flowers!
[They held them up so he could see them]
For the table.
[Haymitch stared at the flowers for a moment.]
Hell, this kid...
[He rubbed his forehead.]
Yeah. Yeah, alright. Put em on the table and don' go out like that again, yeah?
[They hesitated before they put the flowers down.]
I was careful.
Ya don't even know what ya have to be careful of, kid. Don' go out unless ya have to.
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[They headed upstairs, dropped their bag in the corner, and next to their bag made a nest of blankets for them to sleep on. After that was done, they grabbed their current knitting project and two disposable plastic water bottles and headed back downstairs]
[They tucked their knitting under their arm and held out a bottle to Haymitch]
Here. It might not taste the best, it’s kind of warm and this isn’t the best brand, but you need to drink water.
[He scowled but, surprisingly, took the water. He jerked his chin towards the sofa.]
Sit. Knit or whatever.
Oh. Okay.
[They went over and sat in front of it on the floor, crossing their legs in front of them, and started working on their hat, which was a pretty turquoise color. The yarn was very nice and soft. They hummed a song as they worked. They were slightly angled towards Haymitch and glanced up at him periodically.]
[He cracked open the book and began to read. At some point, one of his hands came to rest on the top of Sam's head.]
[Sam stopped humming and straightened their back to be closer to the touch. After a beat they started humming again.]
[He let his fingers settle into the kid's hair. The kid looked.. similar to Wyatt. Oddly so. He couldn't stop thinking that this was how old Wyatt's kid would have been if he had grown old enough to have any.]
[They rested their head against his knee, their knitting slowing down with the new positioning.]
[He jerked in surprise. Wyatt had done the same thing-- no. He would not let this good -- truly good -- child be corrupted by his ghosts.]
[Sam sat up quickly and scooted away slightly.]
I’m so sorry, I should have asked first, I know I should have asked first. I won’t do that again.
[Haymitch caught their shoulder, unceremoniously half-dragging them back.]
Fuckin' hell, kid. I don't mind it. Calm your tits.
[They tentatively scooted back and settled back lightly to where they had been.]
If you’re sure?
[He didn't even bother replying, settling his hand back into Sam's hair.]
[After a second, they relaxed again and resumed knitting. The humming started again soon shortly after.]
[The only sounds in the room were those of knitting needles clacking, the boy's humming and the occasional turned page from Haymitch.]
[His hand absently stroked through the boy's hair. He watched as the boy's eyes closed slightly as he began to fall asleep.]
[They finally do fall asleep, twitching slightly and snoring softly]
[Haymitch's eyes softened. He watched the kid for a couple minutes, making sure they were well and truly asleep, before setting down the book and bending down to pick the kid up.]
[He was surprisingly heavy, or maybe Haymitch had gotten far too weak in the last 20 years, because lifting the boy was a struggle. But he managed, ignoring the sharp ache in his back as he walked up the stairs, carrying the sleeping kid to the guest- to their new bedroom.]
[He pushed the door open with his foot, carefully depositing the kid in the nest of blankets by their bag. Quietly, he walked out to his own bedroom and returned with another blanket, which he draped over the kid's sleeping form.]
[After Sam had woken up, they headed downstairs, grabbing a random box of pasta as they went and stuffing a handful of dry noodles into their mouth.]
[They headed down the stairs, putting the box of pasta on the table as they stuffed another pasta handful in their mouth and went out the door in search of flowers for the table.]
[Haymitch hadn't slept much anyway, nightmares haunting him, so he walked downstairs soon after Sam had left, looking around for the kid. When he didn't see them, he checked their room, panic flaring within his chest when they weren't there either.]
Sam?
[He called out, hoping for an answer. But none came. With sinking dread, he grabbed a bottle and drank. There was nothing else he could do.]
[A few minutes later, Sam came back in, closing the door none-too-quietly, and ran up to their room, grabbing a tin can to put the flowers they had found in. The flowers were pretty, pink with spikes on them. They plopped them in the can and then put the can on the center of the table.]
[Haymitch glared at them from the sofa, half-empty bottle in hand.]
Where th' hell were ya?
Getting flowers!
[They held them up so he could see them]
For the table.
[Haymitch stared at the flowers for a moment.]
Hell, this kid...
[He rubbed his forehead.]
Yeah. Yeah, alright. Put em on the table and don' go out like that again, yeah?
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[They headed upstairs, dropped their bag in the corner, and next to their bag made a nest of blankets for them to sleep on. After that was done, they grabbed their current knitting project and two disposable plastic water bottles and headed back downstairs]
[They tucked their knitting under their arm and held out a bottle to Haymitch]
Here. It might not taste the best, it’s kind of warm and this isn’t the best brand, but you need to drink water.
[He scowled but, surprisingly, took the water. He jerked his chin towards the sofa.]
Sit. Knit or whatever.
Oh. Okay.
[They went over and sat in front of it on the floor, crossing their legs in front of them, and started working on their hat, which was a pretty turquoise color. The yarn was very nice and soft. They hummed a song as they worked. They were slightly angled towards Haymitch and glanced up at him periodically.]
[He cracked open the book and began to read. At some point, one of his hands came to rest on the top of Sam's head.]
[Sam stopped humming and straightened their back to be closer to the touch. After a beat they started humming again.]
[He let his fingers settle into the kid's hair. The kid looked.. similar to Wyatt. Oddly so. He couldn't stop thinking that this was how old Wyatt's kid would have been if he had grown old enough to have any.]
[They rested their head against his knee, their knitting slowing down with the new positioning.]
[He jerked in surprise. Wyatt had done the same thing-- no. He would not let this good -- truly good -- child be corrupted by his ghosts.]
[Sam sat up quickly and scooted away slightly.]
I’m so sorry, I should have asked first, I know I should have asked first. I won’t do that again.
[Haymitch caught their shoulder, unceremoniously half-dragging them back.]
Fuckin' hell, kid. I don't mind it. Calm your tits.
[They tentatively scooted back and settled back lightly to where they had been.]
If you’re sure?
[He didn't even bother replying, settling his hand back into Sam's hair.]
[After a second, they relaxed again and resumed knitting. The humming started again soon shortly after.]
[The only sounds in the room were those of knitting needles clacking, the boy's humming and the occasional turned page from Haymitch.]
[His hand absently stroked through the boy's hair. He watched as the boy's eyes closed slightly as he began to fall asleep.]
[They finally do fall asleep, twitching slightly and snoring softly]
[Haymitch's eyes softened. He watched the kid for a couple minutes, making sure they were well and truly asleep, before setting down the book and bending down to pick the kid up.]
[He was surprisingly heavy, or maybe Haymitch had gotten far too weak in the last 20 years, because lifting the boy was a struggle. But he managed, ignoring the sharp ache in his back as he walked up the stairs, carrying the sleeping kid to the guest- to their new bedroom.]
[He pushed the door open with his foot, carefully depositing the kid in the nest of blankets by their bag. Quietly, he walked out to his own bedroom and returned with another blanket, which he draped over the kid's sleeping form.]
[After Sam had woken up, they headed downstairs, grabbing a random box of pasta as they went and stuffing a handful of dry noodles into their mouth.]
[They headed down the stairs, putting the box of pasta on the table as they stuffed another pasta handful in their mouth and went out the door in search of flowers for the table.]
[Haymitch hadn't slept much anyway, nightmares haunting him, so he walked downstairs soon after Sam had left, looking around for the kid. When he didn't see them, he checked their room, panic flaring within his chest when they weren't there either.]
Sam?
[He called out, hoping for an answer. But none came. With sinking dread, he grabbed a bottle and drank. There was nothing else he could do.]
[A few minutes later, Sam came back in, closing the door none-too-quietly, and ran up to their room, grabbing a tin can to put the flowers they had found in. The flowers were pretty, pink with spikes on them. They plopped them in the can and then put the can on the center of the table.]
[Haymitch glared at them from the sofa, half-empty bottle in hand.]
Where th' hell were ya?
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[They headed upstairs, dropped their bag in the corner, and next to their bag made a nest of blankets for them to sleep on. After that was done, they grabbed their current knitting project and two disposable plastic water bottles and headed back downstairs]
[They tucked their knitting under their arm and held out a bottle to Haymitch]
Here. It might not taste the best, it’s kind of warm and this isn’t the best brand, but you need to drink water.
[He scowled but, surprisingly, took the water. He jerked his chin towards the sofa.]
Sit. Knit or whatever.
Oh. Okay.
[They went over and sat in front of it on the floor, crossing their legs in front of them, and started working on their hat, which was a pretty turquoise color. The yarn was very nice and soft. They hummed a song as they worked. They were slightly angled towards Haymitch and glanced up at him periodically.]
[He cracked open the book and began to read. At some point, one of his hands came to rest on the top of Sam's head.]
[Sam stopped humming and straightened their back to be closer to the touch. After a beat they started humming again.]
[He let his fingers settle into the kid's hair. The kid looked.. similar to Wyatt. Oddly so. He couldn't stop thinking that this was how old Wyatt's kid would have been if he had grown old enough to have any.]
[They rested their head against his knee, their knitting slowing down with the new positioning.]
[He jerked in surprise. Wyatt had done the same thing-- no. He would not let this good -- truly good -- child be corrupted by his ghosts.]
[Sam sat up quickly and scooted away slightly.]
I’m so sorry, I should have asked first, I know I should have asked first. I won’t do that again.
[Haymitch caught their shoulder, unceremoniously half-dragging them back.]
Fuckin' hell, kid. I don't mind it. Calm your tits.
[They tentatively scooted back and settled back lightly to where they had been.]
If you’re sure?
[He didn't even bother replying, settling his hand back into Sam's hair.]
[After a second, they relaxed again and resumed knitting. The humming started again soon shortly after.]
[The only sounds in the room were those of knitting needles clacking, the boy's humming and the occasional turned page from Haymitch.]
[His hand absently stroked through the boy's hair. He watched as the boy's eyes closed slightly as he began to fall asleep.]
[They finally do fall asleep, twitching slightly and snoring softly]
[Haymitch's eyes softened. He watched the kid for a couple minutes, making sure they were well and truly asleep, before setting down the book and bending down to pick the kid up.]
[He was surprisingly heavy, or maybe Haymitch had gotten far too weak in the last 20 years, because lifting the boy was a struggle. But he managed, ignoring the sharp ache in his back as he walked up the stairs, carrying the sleeping kid to the guest- to their new bedroom.]
[He pushed the door open with his foot, carefully depositing the kid in the nest of blankets by their bag. Quietly, he walked out to his own bedroom and returned with another blanket, which he draped over the kid's sleeping form.]
[After Sam had woken up, they headed downstairs, grabbing a random box of pasta as they went and stuffing a handful of dry noodles into their mouth.]
[They headed down the stairs, putting the box of pasta on the table as they stuffed another pasta handful in their mouth and went out the door in search of flowers for the table.]
[Haymitch hadn't slept much anyway, nightmares haunting him, so he walked downstairs soon after Sam had left, looking around for the kid. When he didn't see them, he checked their room, panic flaring within his chest when they weren't there either.]
Sam?
[He called out, hoping for an answer. But none came. With sinking dread, he grabbed a bottle and drank. There was nothing else he could do.]
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[They headed upstairs, dropped their bag in the corner, and next to their bag made a nest of blankets for them to sleep on. After that was done, they grabbed their current knitting project and two disposable plastic water bottles and headed back downstairs]
[They tucked their knitting under their arm and held out a bottle to Haymitch]
Here. It might not taste the best, it’s kind of warm and this isn’t the best brand, but you need to drink water.
[He scowled but, surprisingly, took the water. He jerked his chin towards the sofa.]
Sit. Knit or whatever.
Oh. Okay.
[They went over and sat in front of it on the floor, crossing their legs in front of them, and started working on their hat, which was a pretty turquoise color. The yarn was very nice and soft. They hummed a song as they worked. They were slightly angled towards Haymitch and glanced up at him periodically.]
[He cracked open the book and began to read. At some point, one of his hands came to rest on the top of Sam's head.]
[Sam stopped humming and straightened their back to be closer to the touch. After a beat they started humming again.]
[He let his fingers settle into the kid's hair. The kid looked.. similar to Wyatt. Oddly so. He couldn't stop thinking that this was how old Wyatt's kid would have been if he had grown old enough to have any.]
[They rested their head against his knee, their knitting slowing down with the new positioning.]
[He jerked in surprise. Wyatt had done the same thing-- no. He would not let this good -- truly good -- child be corrupted by his ghosts.]
[Sam sat up quickly and scooted away slightly.]
I’m so sorry, I should have asked first, I know I should have asked first. I won’t do that again.
[Haymitch caught their shoulder, unceremoniously half-dragging them back.]
Fuckin' hell, kid. I don't mind it. Calm your tits.
[They tentatively scooted back and settled back lightly to where they had been.]
If you’re sure?
[He didn't even bother replying, settling his hand back into Sam's hair.]
[After a second, they relaxed again and resumed knitting. The humming started again soon shortly after.]
[The only sounds in the room were those of knitting needles clacking, the boy's humming and the occasional turned page from Haymitch.]
[His hand absently stroked through the boy's hair. He watched as the boy's eyes closed slightly as he began to fall asleep.]
[They finally do fall asleep, twitching slightly and snoring softly]
[Haymitch's eyes softened. He watched the kid for a couple minutes, making sure they were well and truly asleep, before setting down the book and bending down to pick the kid up.]
[He was surprisingly heavy, or maybe Haymitch had gotten far too weak in the last 20 years, because lifting the boy was a struggle. But he managed, ignoring the sharp ache in his back as he walked up the stairs, carrying the sleeping kid to the guest- to their new bedroom.]
[He pushed the door open with his foot, carefully depositing the kid in the nest of blankets by their bag. Quietly, he walked out to his own bedroom and returned with another blanket, which he draped over the kid's sleeping form.]
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[They headed upstairs, dropped their bag in the corner, and next to their bag made a nest of blankets for them to sleep on. After that was done, they grabbed their current knitting project and two disposable plastic water bottles and headed back downstairs]
[They tucked their knitting under their arm and held out a bottle to Haymitch]
Here. It might not taste the best, it’s kind of warm and this isn’t the best brand, but you need to drink water.
[He scowled but, surprisingly, took the water. He jerked his chin towards the sofa.]
Sit. Knit or whatever.
Oh. Okay.
[They went over and sat in front of it on the floor, crossing their legs in front of them, and started working on their hat, which was a pretty turquoise color. The yarn was very nice and soft. They hummed a song as they worked. They were slightly angled towards Haymitch and glanced up at him periodically.]
[He cracked open the book and began to read. At some point, one of his hands came to rest on the top of Sam's head.]
[Sam stopped humming and straightened their back to be closer to the touch. After a beat they started humming again.]
[He let his fingers settle into the kid's hair. The kid looked.. similar to Wyatt. Oddly so. He couldn't stop thinking that this was how old Wyatt's kid would have been if he had grown old enough to have any.]
[They rested their head against his knee, their knitting slowing down with the new positioning.]
[He jerked in surprise. Wyatt had done the same thing-- no. He would not let this good -- truly good -- child be corrupted by his ghosts.]
[Sam sat up quickly and scooted away slightly.]
I’m so sorry, I should have asked first, I know I should have asked first. I won’t do that again.
[Haymitch caught their shoulder, unceremoniously half-dragging them back.]
Fuckin' hell, kid. I don't mind it. Calm your tits.
[They tentatively scooted back and settled back lightly to where they had been.]
If you’re sure?
[He didn't even bother replying, settling his hand back into Sam's hair.]
[After a second, they relaxed again and resumed knitting. The humming started again soon shortly after.]
[The only sounds in the room were those of knitting needles clacking, the boy's humming and the occasional turned page from Haymitch.]
[His hand absently stroked through the boy's hair. He watched as the boy's eyes closed slightly as he began to fall asleep.]
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[They headed upstairs, dropped their bag in the corner, and next to their bag made a nest of blankets for them to sleep on. After that was done, they grabbed their current knitting project and two disposable plastic water bottles and headed back downstairs]
[They tucked their knitting under their arm and held out a bottle to Haymitch]
Here. It might not taste the best, it’s kind of warm and this isn’t the best brand, but you need to drink water.
[He scowled but, surprisingly, took the water. He jerked his chin towards the sofa.]
Sit. Knit or whatever.
Oh. Okay.
[They went over and sat in front of it on the floor, crossing their legs in front of them, and started working on their hat, which was a pretty turquoise color. The yarn was very nice and soft. They hummed a song as they worked. They were slightly angled towards Haymitch and glanced up at him periodically.]
[He cracked open the book and began to read. At some point, one of his hands came to rest on the top of Sam's head.]
[Sam stopped humming and straightened their back to be closer to the touch. After a beat they started humming again.]
[He let his fingers settle into the kid's hair. The kid looked.. similar to Wyatt. Oddly so. He couldn't stop thinking that this was how old Wyatt's kid would have been if he had grown old enough to have any.]
[They rested their head against his knee, their knitting slowing down with the new positioning.]
[He jerked in surprise. Wyatt had done the same thing-- no. He would not let this good -- truly good -- child be corrupted by his ghosts.]
[Sam sat up quickly and scooted away slightly.]
I’m so sorry, I should have asked first, I know I should have asked first. I won’t do that again.
[Haymitch caught their shoulder, unceremoniously half-dragging them back.]
Fuckin' hell, kid. I don't mind it. Calm your tits.
[They tentatively scooted back and settled back lightly to where they had been.]
If you’re sure?
[He didn't even bother replying, settling his hand back into Sam's hair.]
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[They headed upstairs, dropped their bag in the corner, and next to their bag made a nest of blankets for them to sleep on. After that was done, they grabbed their current knitting project and two disposable plastic water bottles and headed back downstairs]
[They tucked their knitting under their arm and held out a bottle to Haymitch]
Here. It might not taste the best, it’s kind of warm and this isn’t the best brand, but you need to drink water.
[He scowled but, surprisingly, took the water. He jerked his chin towards the sofa.]
Sit. Knit or whatever.
Oh. Okay.
[They went over and sat in front of it on the floor, crossing their legs in front of them, and started working on their hat, which was a pretty turquoise color. The yarn was very nice and soft. They hummed a song as they worked. They were slightly angled towards Haymitch and glanced up at him periodically.]
[He cracked open the book and began to read. At some point, one of his hands came to rest on the top of Sam's head.]
[Sam stopped humming and straightened their back to be closer to the touch. After a beat they started humming again.]
[He let his fingers settle into the kid's hair. The kid looked.. similar to Wyatt. Oddly so. He couldn't stop thinking that this was how old Wyatt's kid would have been if he had grown old enough to have any.]
[They rested their head against his knee, their knitting slowing down with the new positioning.]
[He jerked in surprise. Wyatt had done the same thing-- no. He would not let this good -- truly good -- child be corrupted by his ghosts.]
[Sam sat up quickly and scooted away slightly.]
I’m so sorry, I should have asked first, I know I should have asked first. I won’t do that again.
[Haymitch caught their shoulder, unceremoniously half-dragging them back.]
Fuckin' hell, kid. I don't mind it. Calm your tits.
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[They headed upstairs, dropped their bag in the corner, and next to their bag made a nest of blankets for them to sleep on. After that was done, they grabbed their current knitting project and two disposable plastic water bottles and headed back downstairs]
[They tucked their knitting under their arm and held out a bottle to Haymitch]
Here. It might not taste the best, it’s kind of warm and this isn’t the best brand, but you need to drink water.
[He scowled but, surprisingly, took the water. He jerked his chin towards the sofa.]
Sit. Knit or whatever.
Oh. Okay.
[They went over and sat in front of it on the floor, crossing their legs in front of them, and started working on their hat, which was a pretty turquoise color. The yarn was very nice and soft. They hummed a song as they worked. They were slightly angled towards Haymitch and glanced up at him periodically.]
[He cracked open the book and began to read. At some point, one of his hands came to rest on the top of Sam's head.]
[Sam stopped humming and straightened their back to be closer to the touch. After a beat they started humming again.]
[He let his fingers settle into the kid's hair. The kid looked.. similar to Wyatt. Oddly so. He couldn't stop thinking that this was how old Wyatt's kid would have been if he had grown old enough to have any.]
[They rested their head against his knee, their knitting slowing down with the new positioning.]
[He jerked in surprise. Wyatt had done the same thing-- no. He would not let this good -- truly good -- child be corrupted by his ghosts.]
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[They headed upstairs, dropped their bag in the corner, and next to their bag made a nest of blankets for them to sleep on. After that was done, they grabbed their current knitting project and two disposable plastic water bottles and headed back downstairs]
[They tucked their knitting under their arm and held out a bottle to Haymitch]
Here. It might not taste the best, it’s kind of warm and this isn’t the best brand, but you need to drink water.
[He scowled but, surprisingly, took the water. He jerked his chin towards the sofa.]
Sit. Knit or whatever.
Oh. Okay.
[They went over and sat in front of it on the floor, crossing their legs in front of them, and started working on their hat, which was a pretty turquoise color. The yarn was very nice and soft. They hummed a song as they worked. They were slightly angled towards Haymitch and glanced up at him periodically.]
[He cracked open the book and began to read. At some point, one of his hands came to rest on the top of Sam's head.]
[Sam stopped humming and straightened their back to be closer to the touch. After a beat they started humming again.]
[He let his fingers settle into the kid's hair. The kid looked.. similar to Wyatt. Oddly so. He couldn't stop thinking that this was how old Wyatt's kid would have been if he had grown old enough to have any.]
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[They headed upstairs, dropped their bag in the corner, and next to their bag made a nest of blankets for them to sleep on. After that was done, they grabbed their current knitting project and two disposable plastic water bottles and headed back downstairs]
[They tucked their knitting under their arm and held out a bottle to Haymitch]
Here. It might not taste the best, it’s kind of warm and this isn’t the best brand, but you need to drink water.
[He scowled but, surprisingly, took the water. He jerked his chin towards the sofa.]
Sit. Knit or whatever.
Oh. Okay.
[They went over and sat in front of it on the floor, crossing their legs in front of them, and started working on their hat, which was a pretty turquoise color. The yarn was very nice and soft. They hummed a song as they worked. They were slightly angled towards Haymitch and glanced up at him periodically.]
[He cracked open the book and began to read. At some point, one of his hands came to rest on the top of Sam's head.]
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[They headed upstairs, dropped their bag in the corner, and next to their bag made a nest of blankets for them to sleep on. After that was done, they grabbed their current knitting project and two disposable plastic water bottles and headed back downstairs]
[They tucked their knitting under their arm and held out a bottle to Haymitch]
Here. It might not taste the best, it’s kind of warm and this isn’t the best brand, but you need to drink water.
[He scowled but, surprisingly, took the water. He jerked his chin towards the sofa.]
Sit. Knit or whatever.
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
I mean, if you stab me it’s fine, I don’t really care. As long as it’s not on purpose, and even then, it’ll just hurt my feelings. I have nightmares, too, so I know they suck a lot.
Kid.... shut up 'n go unpack your shit.
[He rubbed his temples and grabbed a bottle.]
[A few days after The Radio Incident™, there was a knock on Haymitch’s bedroom door, and Sam called through it,]
Hey, just so you know, I can’t die.
- @sam-sam-time-travel-man
[Haymitch was far more drunk this time than he had been the last, and the words only halfway registered.]
Wh- whassat?
I can’t die. You kicked me out last time I was here, and I asked around to the people who live here about you, and I can’t die. In case that’s what you were afraid of.
[This time, the words registered. Haymitch stumbled to the door and pulled it open.]
You can't- what?
I can’t die. Like, ever, I don’t think. It just doesn’t work.
[Haymitch slammed his hand over their mouth before they could finish the sentence and dragged them into the room. With a clarity that belied his drunk state, he turned on the radio and turned it up.]
Jesus, kid, no-one ever teach you that careless talk costs lives?
Um… no?
[They blinked a few times.]
Sorry?
....fucking hell--
[Pointedly, Haymitch looked up at the corner of the room, where a small, blinking, red light was visible, then at the radio, turned up loud enough to drown conversation.]
Oh. Are we being watched, or just listened to?
[They pulled their hat slightly more down over their head.]
Listened to. No cameras here -- Snow saves those for his propaganda.
[Sam noticed that Haymitch was fiddling with scraps of dark red wool wrapped around his wrist. They recognised that colour..]
[Sam kept staring blankly at the wool as they spoke]
Oh. That’s good. Not the propaganda bit, but, you know.
[They stared silently at the wool for a few seconds.]
Would you like a new one?
[His answering smile was bitter.]
What, after I ruined this one?
[Sam shrugged.]
I’ve ruined mine plenty of times. I have a lot, and I can make more, too.
I'd like that, then. A new one.
[He kept fiddling with the wool, winding it and unwinding it from his wrist.]
[They sat down on the ground after kicking away an empty space and started digging through their bag.]
Same color as last time?
[He nodded sharply.]
Thank you.
[They pulled one out after a little bit longer of searching and handed it up to him, standing up as he took it.]
Right, then. Do you want more spaghetti? Do you need water? You probably need water.
[He shook his head.]
I ate.. this morning. I think. Sit down, kid. You don't need to be so jumpy -- I'm not gonna bite ya.
[They plopped back down and started talking rapid-fire.]
I mean, last time, you did throw a plate at the wall and yell at me to stop wasting your time. Also apparently you won some sort of killing game. So you could hurt me, if you wanted to, so I think it would be okay to be nervous if I was. I’m not, though, obviously. I just have a lot of energy. Which is fine. Anyway, even if you’ve eaten, you probably do need water, because you look like you’ve drunken a lot. And smell like it, too, no offense or anything. It’s fine, I’m not judging, I used to drink a lot, but I don’t anymore, because it doesn’t really do anything, because I drank so much, you know? Kind of like iocane powder. I do know how to take care of myself, and other people, too, if they’re drunk, so if you need help with anything, I can help if you want, but from what I’ve heard from people around, you probably definitely have it handled and under control. I don’t think I’ve eaten today, so can I eat something? If I can’t, that’s okay, and I can leave and then eat, or I can wait and eat later, too, if you want, and that’s fine and I really don’t mind.
[Haymitch waited till he was finished before he began to respond.]
...I'll grant you the first point. You might be right about me drinkin' water. Migh' bother showerin, too. I don't need help "dealing" with anything, kid, but.. ta.
[He stood up, crossing to the door and walking out of the room, turning back to look at Sam.]
Well? You coming, boy?
[Sam grinned and stood up.]
Where are we going?
[Haymitch didn't bother replying, walking down to the kitchen and turning on the stove, the large pot of stew he'd made bubbling and heating. He grabbed a bowl, ladling some stew into it, and set it down on the table with some bread.]
Sit. Eat.
I have my own food in my bag, I don’t want to take any of yours at all, it’s fine.
[They sat down at the table anyway, but watched for Haymitch’s response.]
Eat the damn stew, kid. I'm going to go freshen up.
[He tapped the table.]
When I get back, that bowl better be empty.
[And with that, he tramped back upstairs to shower.]
Thank you!
[Sam stared after him, and as soon as he was out of sight, they started eating.]
[He returned half an hour or so later, smelling much better and dressed in.. cleaner.. clothes. He nodded approvingly at the empty bowl, something almost like a smile touching at his lips.]
Well done.
[Sam absolutely lit up, shifting slightly in their seat.]
Thanks. You, too, for showering.
[He ruffled the kid's hair slightly as he picked up the bowl and put it in the sink.]
Mmh. You're welcome.
[They lifted into the touch, following it slightly.]
What do you do for fun? Other than drinking?
[He noticed the movement. Touch-starved, then. Poor kid.]
Very little. I read, when Trinket forces me to sober up. Other than that.. nothin.
Oh.
[Sam paused]
What’s Trinket?
Who. Effie Trinket, Capitol Escort and utter pain in my fucking ass.
Where is Trinket now?
The Capitol. Obviously.
Oh. Oops.
[They pulled their bag onto their lap]
What kind of books do you like? I have a bunch somewhere in my bag.
[They reached in and felt around until they found one, and then pulled out a large math textbook and dropped it on the table.]
Probably not exactly that one, but like that.
[He shrugged.]
Can't afford to be picky, kid. I'll read just about anything.
[He idly leafed through the maths textbook, understanding very little of it.]
[Sam laughed and shook their head.]
Give me a second, I’ll get you a different one.
[They dug through their bag again and pulled out The Hobbit.]
That one might be better.
[He took the book, nodding his thanks.]
.......the, uh. the spare bedroom is.. untouched, yknow, kid. might be a bit dusty, but is definitely clean. you can take it.
[His voice is gruff. He's pointedly not looking at Sam as he speaks.]
[They shrugged]
Only if you’re sure. I don’t want to intrude or anything.
Bedroom's upstairs to the right. If ya hear me screaming in the night, no ya didn't. Don't try 'n wake me up if ya do -- that's one way to get a knife in ya. Got that, kid?
