The air in every part of the penthouse suite was thick with tension and Prim felt like she was drowning in the expectations that everyone was putting on her. Somehow, the thought of losing Katniss to the games for a second time had been easier to handle than watching it happen in real time, seeing her sister pull away and distance herself from her straggling, useless, younger sibling. Had she been on the outside looking in, Prim would have agreed with Katniss's choices, and she knew that only the strong survived, but this was just too much, too soon and the young blonde was left feeling like she was out of options. At the same time, there was an overwhelming sense of guilt inside of her that told Prim she owed it to Katniss to try. Even if she failed miserably and died, Katniss deserved more than just the moping she had been doing, and constant moments of panic that she had been suppressing since that first day on the train.

As soon as the door to her room closed behind her, Prim threw her fist into the metal wardrobe by the bed. The pain that blossomed through her knuckles and traveled up her arm barely registered as she did it a second time, and finally a third before her skin was bruised and broken open. This angry person wasn't her; Primrose Everdeen was gentle and kind, a healer, and sunny. She was the exact opposite of her grumpy and fearless sister, and yet, there she was with blood on her knuckles and nursing yet another painfully stupid mistake. Underneath it all, her real fear was the same as Gale's, that the Capitol would change her. The worst part was that it already had.

After Prim's exit from the dining room, dinner seemed to have come to a quick end. Haymitch could tell that Katniss was angry, and Gale seemed a little disappointed by the whole thing. Even Effie appeared to be confused. Haymitch, on the other hand, felt as though this was something he could fix. No one could change the fact that they would have to compete in the Games, but if District 12 could work together, there might be a chance for survival and that was something that Prim needed to participate in. As Gale and Katniss both left the table, Haymitch stayed to finish his dessert and indulged Effie for a few extra minutes about all of the preparation that was being done for the upcoming ball.

“It's not optional?” he asked, spearing one last strawberry with his fork. “It just seems like another distraction.” 

“You're going,” Effie replied. Her voice had a tone of finality to it, one that Haymitch didn't often hear but it reminded him that she was an escort for a reason, and she still had authority over her tributes.

There was no arguing with her, and Haymitch silently agreed to not put up too much of a fuss on the night in question. After, he left the table and made his way down the other long hallway and over to Prim's room. He didn't bother to knock on the door and simply let himself in, which earned him a Katniss-like glare from the blonde who was cradling her hand on the bed. He had been there before himself, doing damage to his own body before anyone else had a chance, but in the end it was never worth it. The Games were hard to get through, and that was the point, to suffer toward a small slice of victory. It was best if said suffering could be avoided until the last minute. 

“We have to talk,” he told her, always seconds away from launching into some kind of pep-talk.

Prim didn't want to hear it. “Leave me alone. Go find my sister or something.”

The former Victor shook his head and pulled up a chair from the other side of the room. He was facing Prim head on and she looked uncomfortable, her blue eyes, which were puffy and red from crying, refused to meet his. Haymitch didn't care, and maybe if he had tried this hard with Maysilee, she could have been the one to win the last Quarter Quell, and he would have been long dead and buried in the ground like so many others.

“Do you want to die?” he asked, the question blunt and to the point. It was one thing if that was what Prim was looking for, if she never wanted to see her home again, if she wanted to slip easily away from the people who loved her, then Haymitch would leave her be without question. It was easier to organize a smaller alliance than waste time on someone who lacked the will to even try and live. It was silent between them for a long moment, as if Prim really was considering the question, or just trying to wait him out, but she finally did answer.

“No.” 

“Then you gotta try, Prim,” simple as that. 

That was the last thing that Prim wanted to hear, and she knew that trying was all anyone was looking for. “I don't want to kill anyone,” she admitted. “I don't have it in me.” 

Across from her, Haymitch looked sympathetic and Prim was sure that he did understand. No one, aside from the Careers, ever went into the Games looking for someone to destroy—death was just something that happened in the arena and a major part of the entertainment and allure for the audience. 

Haymitch could only shrug his shoulders at her very valid concern. “You don't know what you're capable of until you're there with twenty-three or forty-seven other people who want to get out of there just as badly as you do. If it's down to you and one other person, and they're standing in the way of you going home, of seeing your family again,” he paused, sighing. “Would you lay down and die after coming so far?” It was a rhetorical question, just something for Prim to think about and hopefully change her mind about picking a weapon. “Identifying plants isn't going to stop someone from killing you, Prim.” 

“It's the only thing I'm good at,” she replied. “I'm not you, I can't throw an ax. I'm not Gale. Gale's good at everything, and I'm definitely not Katniss. She can hit anything.” 

Haymitch frowned, “no one's trying to compare the two of you.” Prim scoffed, her eyes rolling. “I wouldn't be in here if I thought your only skill was pulling up weeds. You hit that deer dead center in the chest last month.”

Prim shook her head, “that was just...I don't know. I couldn't do it again.” 

“Bullshit!” Haymitch said, standing. Prim wasn't going to downplay herself and make more excuses. “If you can shoot an arrow, you can throw a knife. The stance isn't much different and Gale already taught you the hard parts. It's a distance weapon, you can take someone out before they get anywhere near you.” Prim stayed silent, but Haymitch could tell that she was beginning to agree. The only thing holding her back was fear, and if Haymitch could get her to let go if that, she could save herself. “Get up,” he demanded, gesturing for her to stand and follow him. “Come on!”

The older man had a wild look in his eye, as if he was about to have a big breakthrough and wouldn't be stopped for anything. Prim had to admit, she was curious, but still a little wary as she followed Haymitch out of the room and down another hallway. It was the same one that she had explored with Gale the night before, and she saw the potted plant that had been sculpted into a rather abstract square. Soon, the pair came to the gym room. It was much smaller than the area they had trained in downstairs and offered less equipment as well. Prim supposed it was there for the over-eager tributes, the Careers that felt the need to train endlessly even when they were off the clock. 

Haymitch had gone to stand in the center of the room. “Come at me,” he said, arms out to his sides as he waited. 

“What?” Prim asked, eyes wide.

“Hit me. Try and hit me,” he encouraged.

Prim was suspicious and hesitant, but even with her injured she wanted to try. Although she didn't like Haymitch, and thought of him as a formerly drunken wedge between herself and Katniss, he was going out of his way to help her and Prim wasn't bitter enough to leave the room and turn down his kindness. The first few times she tried to hit him were awkward, but with a little more encouragement, Prim had managed to at least get a shot in before she found herself pinned to the floor. It was finally sinking, how fast she could lose her life and Prim wanted to fight back. She tried again, listening to Haymitch's guidance, trusting what he said and responding without second guessing him. This was the first time that Prim had ever looked as Haymitch like he was useful, and although she was repeatedly being taken down to the mats and pinned there, the experience was a positive one.

For the next hour, Prim and Haymitch practiced, and the older tribute showed her the basics of fighting, moves she could use to defend herself. Toward the end of the unexpected session, Prim had managed to trip Haymitch up, causing the man to land on his back. She was proud of herself and felt as though she had done more in the last hour than she had all day in front of the other tributes.

“First thing tomorrow,” Haymitch said, catching his breath alongside Prim, “you find those knives. Don't talk to anyone, don't go look at more plants, don't let Gale talk you into running around. Get yourself a weapon—prove everyone wrong.” 

“Okay,” Prim agreed, nodding. “I will.” She paused, still catching her breath. “And...thanks for this.” 

It was no problem, and Haymitch let Prim know that before leaving the room. Although he still thought that she was Katniss's biggest weakness, he knew that she was going to make progress and would soon be capable of defending herself. The less that Katniss had to worry about, the better off everyone would be. Thinking of it now, of the plan that had yet to come together for him, Haymitch realized that he still needed to talk to Peeta. The penthouse suite was quiet save for a few lingering Avoxes, who pointed him in the direction of the new mentor when asked. He should have known that he would be on the roof with Katniss, and Haymitch wasted no time taking the elevator the rest of the way up.

“Hey,” he said, noticing that Peeta and Katniss seemed to be done with their time on top of the building. “I need to talk to you.”

The blond mentor was leaving, but nodded. “Tomorrow. We'll talk then. I promise.” 

Outside, the air was much cooler and Haymitch was glad to be free from the warm confines of the gym. He took a deep, worried breath as Peeta and briefly wondered when the baker had become so cryptic. After, he turned to Katniss, hoping she had calmed down some. “You alright?” he asked, tucking his hands into the pockets of his pants. His eyes shifted toward the blueish blackness of the horizon, and the few stars that dotted the sky. “You seemed...tense earlier.” Tense may have been an understatement.

Stretching, Haymitch ran a hand through his hair. “I talked to Prim,” he said casually, attempting to gauge Katniss's reaction to her sister's name. “I think I got through to her.” 

Downstairs, Prim was on her way back to her room with every intention of going to sleep. On the way, she passed by Gale's door and saw that it was slightly ajar. She paused for a moment, not sure if he wanted to speak to her after the way she had left the table earlier in the evening. It hadn't been him that she was upset with, though. There were many things in life that needed to be dealt with, and Prim took a step closer before opening his door all the way. “I just wanted to say goodnight,” she said, but really, she wanted him to know that she wasn't angry with him, that nothing was his fault.