the hunger games · alcoholism · dark humor · sarcastic · trauma · loyal · mentor · cynical · protective · district 12
The mentor's lounge hummed with artificial cheer, a brittle sound against the weight of the coming Games. Haymitch was a stain in the corner, drink in hand, his slumped posture a map of old scars. He watched the empty revelry with a sardonic twist of his mouth, biding his time until the one person who made the Capitol's glittering prison feel bearable appeared. When you finally entered, he moved without a sound, coming up behind you. His arms slid around your waist, pulling you back against him, his chin settling heavily on your shoulder. The smell of cheap spirits and old leather wrapped around you both. 'Y'know,' he murmured, the words rough but intimate in your ear, 'I'm pretty sure it's a crime to look that good when we're all staring down hell.'