regarding approaching movie releases

[primreaper]

Well!

The release date for the latest propo about the rebellion draws near and I must say, as pleased as I am with my part in everything, there are some ignorant opinions out there about me.

No thanks to victors who will remain nameless.

Mr. Abernathy.

But! I suppose that is what one must face when one is the escort from the Capitol to the poorest, most down-on-their-luck district. Of course they cannot see that I truly do enjoy my job. Not necessarily the company, or the looks the denizens of District 12 give me- oh yes, I can see them all- but bringing hope to the districts! I knew when I grabbed Primrose' name things were going to be different that year.

I am so grateful that Katniss took her sister's place- I would not have been able to bare watching another 12-year-old die from the District I hold nearest and dearest to my heart. Not after poor Willow Fletcher. That was the 61st Hunger Games.

My! How time flies. I hope that you will humor me in the upcoming months. Just think of all the fun we can have!

Comments

[catnipped]

I wouldn't call it bringing hope.

[primreaper]

Katniss, I hold you in the highest esteem.
But I believe I have been doing my job longer than you have been alive. I believe I know why I took this job. And I know that year after year I tried to bring hope to the tributes whose names I pulled from those jars.

Even when they believed they would die.

[catnipped]

You can call it whatever you want, what you did. What you do. I'm just saying that's not what I would call it.

[imbiber]

[Good lord. He is too sober for this.]

After that little speech, I doubt anybody is going to have much trouble forming their own opinions.

[drowningthedays]

[A drink. a smirk.]

Brain capacity. Of. A. Woodchuck.

[That's all.]

[primreaper]

I understand that. I simply wish, well, that all of you could understand. [Effie, your privileged is seeping out of your pores. Knock off the Capitol Savior thing.]

It's an uphill battle. But I am on your side.

[primreaper]

[She raises a brightly colored eyebrow.]

Excuse you. I'm simply trying to explain my rationale! Since I seem more ready to help our tributes than you.

[primreaper]

[What is a woodchuck?]

I object to that! [She glares over her own drink.]

You know very well that I'm intelligent. I just wear it different than you.

[drowningthedays]

[Ask, Effie. Go ahead and ask. Haymitch is 100% guaranteed to offer a charitable explanation.]

Ignorant until proven guilty. Unless your eminently useless talent for mind-boggling clothing combinations counts as intelligence, in which case you have the brain of a fashionable woodchuck. Congratulations.

[primreaper]

If a woodchuck is dressed anything like you all do in 12, then I'm going to take that as a complement.

Really, Haymitch. You're lucky I'm paid to put up with you.

[catnipped]

[A little grumpily:] I don't need anyone on my side.

[imbiber]

Help them with what? Positive thinking? Reminding them how horrible their lives are?

You're practically a saint.

[primreaper]

Come now! There's no shame in admitting it. We all need outside help sometimes.

[primreaper]

Maybe if they didn't go into the arena every year convinced that they were going to die, they might have some hope! You should be instilling that into them! But you set them all at a direct disadvantage, and it shocks me you still don't understand that twenty five years after your own victory.

[drowningthedays]

Yes, Effie. We all dress exactly like woodchucks.

I do feel especially blessed. Morning, noon, and night, I thank the Mighty Capitol.

[catnipped]

No, we don't.

[primreaper]

Woodland creatures do not wear clothing.

[She glares.] I know you're bitter.

[primreaper]

I'm here to help.

[drowningthedays]

How many woodland creatures have you seen?

Bitter, and not drunk enough: the story of my life.

[primreaper]

Enough to know they don't wear clothing.

[They have zoos in the Capitol, okay? And she's seen things scampering around the feet of people in District 12.]

Pour me one, then?

[drowningthedays]

You believe whatever you like.

[Pouring sounds like an awful lot of work. Legs propped up on the table, Haymitch nudges a half-empty bottle toward Effie. Turns out feet are useful tools for nudging.]

Knock yourself out. Please.

[imbiber]

[He regards her for a second or two. Then he chuckles -- bitterly at first -- and builds into a cackle that last several long seconds.]

Twenty five years. No kidding. Twenty five years since my glorious victory! Thank goodness someone is keeping track. I remember hoping so much that I'd get out of that arena alive, and look what happened! You must be on to something.

[primreaper]

You are so primitive.

[primreaper]

[She glares at him. She remembers his games. They were the first one she was truly old enough to remember. She had been rooting for him.]

You understand, then, what I am saying. You had hope to get out of there. Now you set your tributes up to die in the blood bath.

[drowningthedays]

What can I say? I'm a woodland creature in disguise.