With his head spinning and a little bit of double vision going on, Haymitch knew that he wasn't much help. Katniss was painfully stubborn, and more than likely already had her mind made up about how the games were going to be played. It was sad to know that she had already accepted her fate, that she thought she was going to die, and that Snow was betting on it. He had been with her and Peeta through their tour, saw the unrest throughout the other districts and anyone with half a brain was able to see that something had been sparked across Panem, and Katniss was inevitable fire. Maybe he was wrong about Snow, maybe he would have been more inclined to agree with Katniss had he not been so drunk, but that was neither here nor there. He was determined to save her, and anyone else he could, for that matter.

“You don't get to decide when I've had enough, sweetheart,” Haymitch snapped, displeased to find that he no longer had the bottle grasped between his increasingly cold fingers. The older man knew very well that his alcoholism couldn't continue on if he was going to volunteer in Peeta's place. There was no place for weakness and disease in the arena, and Haymitch would be of no use to anyone if he was dead before the countdown even ended. Regardless, drunk Haymitch didn't appreciate being treated like a child by some angry, teenage girl. 

He frowned as he watched her down the rest of his drink. There were more full bottles back at his house, tucked away in cabinets, sitting out in the open on the coffee table, and a handful scattered around his bedroom. The alcohol was no loss to him, but he didn't want to see Katniss go the same route, especially when she had so much to do and so much to live for. As for himself, there hadn't been much keeping him around, not until she and Peeta had come along. He hadn't wanted to care for either of them, and his new sense of responsibility was starting to wear on his paper-thin nerves.

A wry smirk crossed his face as Katniss sputtered and coughed. Haymitch was openly happy that she hated the drink. “That's what you get,” he chided. The situation softened immediately as Katniss placed her hand on his arm and he found the smirk slipping away from his face. He didn't try and argue as she helped him to his feet, and Haymitch leaned against her in his inebriated, unsteady state. He had never noticed how strong and solid Katniss was until she walked him home. As frail-looking as she was, she easily kept her balance under his weight.

Each step was heavy as Haymitch trudged up the stairs with Katniss. The cold combined with the alcohol he had been drinking for the better part of the day was finally caught up with him, and the former Victor felt woozy as he laid down on the battered couch near the window. His eyes followed her form as she poked around his living space, and for some reason, held back any criticism that was surely on the tip of her tongue. Haymitch couldn't say that he didn't appreciate it, he wasn't up for an argument at the moment. Shifting around, he made himself comfortable, head resting on the arm of the couch and arms folded around himself.

“You eat something,” he mumbled to her back, eyes already closed. Sometime later, a knock at the door would disturb him from his sleep, but Haymitch wouldn't budge from his place on the sofa.

Back at home, Prim was busy with being busy, trying to stop her head from hurting and her heart from aching. The thought of losing Gale to the games was fleeting, and anemic in comparison to the loss she already felt for Katniss. It wasn't fair that she was being taken away again when she had only just returned and Primrose had been allowed a taste of the new normalcy that winning and stability brought. How could the Capitol take that away? What gave them that right?

From the kitchen, Prim heard the exchange between Peeta and Katniss, and gathered that Haymitch had agreed to take his place in the upcoming games. The young blonde wished to intervene on her sister's behalf and explain that Katniss was only slightly overbearing because she cared, because she didn't want to see more innocent people die, but Peeta had left in a huff before she could force herself to move. Heavy guilt sat in her stomach, and Prim had always been timid, but she was suddenly ashamed of her inaction all over again. Volunteering crossed her mind just then, a way to repay Katniss for what she had done the year before, but she knew better than to do that. There was mother to take care of, residents of the Seam to help heal and Prim knew exactly where she was needed. She could already picture the look Katniss would give her if she even mentioned such a thing; probably similar to the look she had given Gale a short time ago.

Prim offered Katniss a sympathetic smile as the dark-haired girl joined she and Gale in the kitchen. “You just need to give him some time,” Prim added to Gale's impromptu pep-talk, although Katniss seemed less than optimistic. In a way, she was glad that Gale was choosing to leave for the night, Prim didn't want to be around him and couldn't figure out if she was more angry with him or herself. Wanting to volunteer was the noble thing to do, but a selfish part of Prim wanted him to stay, to have another chance to spend long afternoons with him, to pick berries and clean squirrels for supper at the end of a long day, and be close. Sometimes, Prim really made herself ill.

As Katniss made tea, Prim passed by her from behind and gave her shoulder a kiss, letting her know that she would be back and ready talk to talk once she saw Gale off. She didn't know what he wanted to say, but she owed him a moment to be heard. In the foyer, Prim crossed her arms and listened to the explanation that Gale was giving. Emotions were running high, and Prim knew that she should have accepted his apology and taken his word for it—that he hadn't done anything in order to hurt her. Instead, she remained silent, her sad, blue eyes a direct betrayal of the blank look on her face. “Goodnight, Gale,” was all she said before closing the door behind him.

Once again, the house was quiet and Prim locked up for the night, turning off all of the lights before finding Katniss in her bedroom. She was exhausted and sat down with her sister on the bed, sinking into the soft, fluffy mattress. She was at a loss for where to start, but the feeling of Katniss's arms around her, and the weakness of her normally strong voice caused the blonde's lower lip to quiver. She swallowed the lump in her throat, wanting to be the rock for a change when Katniss was so vulnerable. “You will,” she whispered, hugging the other girl tightly. “You belong here and,” she took a deep breath, “nothing is going to keep you away for long.” 

That night, Prim fell asleep with Katniss, sharing the bed the way they had when they were small. It felt nice to be close again, and Prim would savor every moment while she could.