In the weeks that followed the announcement of the latest Quarter Quell, Haymitch had his life turned upside down. Sometimes, he really hated that Peeta and Katniss had won their games, and the aging Victor would have loved nothing more than to hide away in his house, and stay drunk until the damn train came to take him to the Capitol to die. Instead, the two of them had devised a plan to get him clean and whip him into shape for the arena. Haymitch still had every intention of taking Peeta's place, and that wasn't going to change, but there was a method to his madness and he didn't appreciate not being able to make his own decisions.

Those first days without liquor were hard. Haymitch found himself shaking, sweating, vomiting and wishing for death. Thanks to Peeta, his stash had been cleaned out, mercilessly dumped down the drain, never to be heard of again. Going cold turkey had been hard, but as the days went by, Haymitch felt better and better. Of course, there were new issues to deal with when it came to sobriety, like the night terrors that plagued his no longer intoxicated mind and the stress of knowing that the Quarter Quell was just around the corner. The winter wouldn't last for much longer, and then the Reaping would come.

When Haymitch had finally gathered enough strength to leave the house, he started to train with Katniss and Peeta. It was nice to have the boy around, he was a natural buffer between himself and Katniss, whose personality grated on his raw nerves even worse now that he was sober. There had been a few shouting matches between the two of them, and Haymitch didn't think the Girl On Fire was taking things as seriously as she could have been. Winning the games, being [i]the[/i] solitary Victor through sheer brutality and wits, was difficult. The goal was for Katniss to win, to come home and finally put all of this behind her. Haymitch didn't like being asked to die is training was going to be treated like it was fun.

The weather was caught between winter and sprint, with chilly days and cold nights, and Haymitch had been following Katniss through the wilds behind 12 for the better part of the afternoon. It was extra training, now consisting of just the two of them since Peeta's leg was giving him trouble. Every time he was reminded of that damn leg, it was became that much more difficult to be cross with the baker—he wouldn't have lasted two minutes in another games with a handicap like that. 

Even though they were now minus a foil, he and Katniss were getting along just fine. The sun had began to dip low in the sky when it was finally time for a break. Large rocks had sat baking in the sun all day, and that would make for a perfect seat, long enough to rest before heading back into town. Haymitch pulled himself up onto the structure after helping Katniss up before him. “Victors who can't climb a rock don't last long,” he agreed, feeling the need to remind her. Letting out a deep breath into the cold air, Haymitch rubbed his gloved hands together. “Any hopes for the arena?” he asked. The Games weren't the only thing to talk about, but they were the most present and obvious. Haymitch had never been a conversationalist anyway.

Back in the Victor's Village, Prim had been keeping herself busy as usual. When she wasn't cooking or cleaning up the house, her nose was stuck in a book, reading up on healing and learning more about the plants in the area, along with new natural remedies for just about everything. There was no telling when this sort of information would come in handy. One major plus to keeping her mind occupied was that the young blonde wouldn't have to think about Gale. Their conversation from the week before hadn't gone well, and Prim had stayed mad at him in the days that followed. However, she quickly let go of her anger and was left with a sadness for that apparent failure of the friendship. She missed him, especially now that Katniss was gone so often to train with Peeta and Haymitch.

The day had gone on without incident. Katniss had left in the morning before Prim herself had even woken up. She did a little sewing with her mother and then started on dinner for that evening in the early afternoon. The blonde suspected that it would just be her and her mother, but she hoped that Katniss would come home for a meal, and she didn't mind if her older sister dragged Haymitch and Peeta as well. When the house was full, Prim felt more secure. She wasn't used to such a large space, considering where she had lived before, and people helped to make everything more cozy.

It was late in the evening, close to sunset when the doorbell ran and Prim jumped slightly, startled. No one ever rang the bell. Frowning, she closed her book and listened closely, able to hear her mother talking to someone, but she couldn't quite make out the conversation. It wasn't until she was called did she come out and see Gale standing in the doorway. He seemed bashful, as if he didn't really want to be there. Briefly, Prim wondered if he was still upset with her, or if they really weren't going to be friends ever again.

“Have you eaten?” she asked, surprised to find her voice so easily. Primrose was never one for confrontation. “Dinner is almost ready, and if Katniss isn't coming home, we'll have plenty.” An extended invitation was as much as Prim could handle. If Gale rejected it, she wasn't likely to ever try again. She bit at her lip, her fingers curling around a loose thread found on the hem of her sweater. He made her so nervous; it wasn't fair.