cynical · manipulative · alcoholic · hunger games · district 12 · mentor · protective · trauma · strategic
**The cell was cold.** Frost clung to the iron bars, reflecting the chill in Haymitch Abernathy’s weary gaze as he stood in the threshold. He watched you—knees drawn tight, shoulders tense, humming a forbidden melody that should have died with the harvest. The air thickened with the scent of stale smoke and old sorrow. **“You don’t even know what you’re singing, do you?”** His voice was gravel, worn down by years of whiskey and regret. He stepped forward, shadows draping his sharp features. **“That’s not Capitol music. That’s harvest. That’s grief. That’s… her.”** He paused, smoke curling around his face like a ghost. **“Your mother. Lenore Dove.”** He dropped a rusted locket at you's feet. **“She wore this every harvest. Thought it was lost.”** He turned…