come_sailaway | We're wide awake now, our eyes are wide open. We're running this world, we keeping it turning

What was it Effie had told him once about cruises? Free alcohol? (Truth be told, that was about the only part of that conversation that he had paid much attention to. Even with his Victor's stipend, a cruise was something he was never going to do himself, and he hardly needed any more demonstration of the Capitol's excesses.) Even with the prospect of free alcohol, and the fact that he's not in Panem anymore with someone watching his every move, he can't completely settle in to this place. There's just something about it that keeps him on edge.

But then, he's been seeing a threat around every corner for years now.

He has no interest in dancing, doesn't recognize any of the music, and has no idea what karaoke is. What he does recognize is the variety of alcohol on offer, and falls back on his usual coping method. His order is something he had first tried in the Capitol (the one thing he had liked about the place was that he had more options than just rotgut) and once it arrives, he sips it. Not too fast, but enough to make it apparent that he's had much practice at this.

He makes a few short trips to the food table, but mostly he stays around the bar, following one drink with another. He's looking for that fine line, enough to keep the demons at bay but not enough to lose awareness of his surroundings. He can't afford to lose his wits in an unknown place.

Diana, on the other hand, loved dancing and karaoke. What she didn't love, however, was the fact that in a crowd of this many people, with this many pulses, some of the other passengers were beginning to look like cartoon chicken legs. The fact of the matter was that Diana was on the brink of starving. While she'd accepted some of the blood the ship had to offer, it was the bare minimum. Maybe she was a well-known idiot. But even she knew better than to accept free blood when it was offered.

It always came with a catch. There was always a catch.

So while she took some time to dance and sing, after a little while, she decided that everyone would be best be served if she moved off to the sidelines of the party proper. Which was what she did, her white, plastic go-go boots clacking across the deck as she made her way over to the bar.

That's when she spotted the unfamiliar ginger man.

Diana was an aura reader by nature, but she didn't need to take a sneak peek at his aura to know that this was a man in distress.

Ever the soft-hearted creature, she made her way over to him, her long, brown hair swishing behind her back. "New arrival?" she asked gently, in her aggressive West Coast accent.

If it hadn't been for the variety of drinks available for free, Haymitch would probably have left this party by now. He has come to be distrustful of crowds, but during the Games, they had their uses. This crowd is different; he's not trying to get sponsorships that might help someone stay alive, but he's smart enough to realize that if you want information about a place, a gathering of people who live there is a good place to start. So he'll put up with the crowd for the moment and absorb as much information as he can.

"Yes." He's not trying to butter anyone up. He keeps his answer short. "Should I take it that you are not a new arrival?"

"S'all relative," she said. "I've been here six weeks, or so. Makes me less shiny and new than others." Although Diana was very shiny in general, with her eyeshadow and bangles and love beads.

When her sisters weren't busy calling her a rag-headed doll, they sometimes called her a magpie.

Diana offered the stranger a weak smile. "I guess I just meant to say I didn't recognize you. So either you've been hiding in your cabin for the last few weeks--which, totes wouldn't blame you--or you're a new arrival."

See? She could totally do logic.

He's used to shiny and sparkly and whatever else from his time in the Capitol, although he had never gone beyond wearing his nicest clothes himself. The rest of it had never sat well with him, and playing up his provincial District origins had seemed to make him more interesting to those who had never set foot outside of the Capitol. In fact, he hasn't even updated his wardrobe yet, still wearing the District 13 grays that he had arrived in.

The fact that they're not all arriving at the same time is a point against the Capitol's involvement in these events, and he files it away for later.

"I'm new. That's really all I know about any of this."

She nodded, her lavender eyes flashing with sympathy. Not pity, of course. Because no one wanted that. But she saw an important distinction between the two.

And definitely felt the difference, when it was directed at her.

"I'd say 'nice to meet you,'" she said, "but that feels kinda vulgar under the circumstances." All the same, she offered him her hand. "Name's Diana. Diana Abel. A-B-E-L. As in, 'Caine and dot, dot, dot...'"

Diana always introduced herself that way. And didn't like it. She was pretty sure that she'd been conditioned to do it. It was a brand on her soul she couldn't escape. Just like Grandmother herself.

She shook her head, mostly at herself, dismissing the introduction. "What should I call you?"

"I don't know who that is," he admits. So she never has to worry about him associating her with that particular story. If he forgets who she is, it's no fault of hers. Although he is making sure to pay attention this evening, to notice as much as possible, so he shouldn't have to worry about forgetting too much.

"Haymitch Abernathy."

"Haymitch? What an interesting name. Never heard it before." But she said it with interest and curiosity. No derision.

Her hand was just lingering there between them. Did he not shake hands? Maybe he was afraid of germs? Or maybe it was something to do with his world?

Regardless, she tried to find the least awkward way possible to lower her hand, tucking it behind her back.

"Abernathy, though. I think that's a city in...Texas?"

Oh. He's forgetting his manners again. Effie would be disappointed in him. Good thing she's not here to see this then.

"I don't know where that is either." Despite sounding American. In fact, to someone with a linguistic ear he sounds vaguely West Virginian. Texas, though, he thinks that was one of the places that existed before Panem came to be Panem. Back when towns apparently had names. "I don't know anything about the name." Families from the Seam have no history worth recording. Just a list of deaths in the mines.

It was taking a lot of faith on Diana's part to reconcile herself to the fact that people were coming in from other universes. She was a damn Cainite, so she could stretch her belief.

But it was still...baffling.

Nevertheless, she just shrugged, smiling politely. "Well, you're not missing much. Texas kind of sucks. Great, if you like horses. Less great if you're into things like civil liberties and women having rights."

There were pockets of hope out there. She'd enjoyed her visit to Austin. But Austin was the exception, rather than the rule.

"Doesn't sound like a place I want to visit then." Not that he has to, really, because he lives in a place like that. Except no one has rights, other than those who live in the Capitol, so it's not just women. But he's not getting into that right now. "Not that it matters. Travel is restricted in Panem."

He can talk about Panem with someone who's not from there. What he says will never make it back to anyone who could do anything with the information.

"Panem? Where is that?"

At this point, Diana wanted ready to accept anything from 'north of Cleveland' to 'somewhere in the Andromeda Galaxy.' Which wasn't to say that she was, but some part of her was bracing herself for an answer that would, no doubt, manage to completely defy her expectations.

The small mercy of it was that just talking was highly unlikely to release the little beast, even if she clawed at the back of Diana's mind.

...she hoped.

"North America." Geographical education in Panem had been lacking, but the history of how the country came about had been mentioned every year. At least in a form that claimed to justify why things are the way they are. "It used to have other names -- I assume ones like Texas -- but after a civil war and a rebellion, the country was reorganized."

"Oh. Wow. Okay."

Her lavender eyes got wide enough to show the whites, all the way around. Another...bad future? At least, it sounded reasonably better than what Clarke-with-an-E had described. As far as Diana could tell, her earth had no more countries or cities or...anything.

Panem, though. Easy enough to break down the Latin roots there.

Still. This was getting weird.

"Used to have," she said. "Did something...bad happen?"

It's a history he knows well, because it's repeated every year before the reaping. At least, the Capitol's version of it is, though he knows enough about the stories they tell to realize that the actual truth is probably somewhat different. Not that anyone would ever admit it.

What he gives her is a short summary, because it's a party and neither of them is here for a history lesson, and he doesn't know all the minute details, anyway.

"After the civil war, Panem was divided into districts and a Capitol. The districts rose up in rebellion against the Capitol, which the Capitol managed to put an end to, with the goal of ensuring peace in the future." He's not sure how much more he should say.

History is repeating itself, and all he can do is hope the current rebellion turns out more favorably than the last one.

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Effie finds him by the food table. She’s been drinking too and is a little glassy-eyed. She beams at him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you at a party I didn’t force you to be at,” she teases.

She’s glad to see him out and about, even if it’s only for the lure of free alcohol.

“Everyone here is very nice, don’t you think?”

"Someone once told me about all the free drinks they'd had on their cruise." He has no problem with admitting what has brought him here. She knows it already anyway, and she can't really fault him for doing something she's been doing herself.

"So far." Though of course he doesn't trust anything about the situation, at least until he learns some more about it.

"They sound very smart," Effie would never miss an opportunity to compliment herself, even as a joke.

She steps closer to him, her tone more serious. "That's what I was thinking. Maybe this place isn't so bad, Haymitch. The rooming situation leaves something to be desired but overall, it's -- fine." For now, it seems to be an improvement over other circumstances they've found themselves in.

Maybe it's really not so bad, maybe this is her ever-present optimism kicking. She doesn't know yet.

"They have their moments." It's more of a compliment than he would have given when they first met, but they both know how much has changed since then.

He'd be offended by her insinuation if he weren't such a fan of living alone himself. He does have to admit, though, that if he has to share space with someone, he'd rather have it be her than anyone else. "It could be worse." Which they both know without him having to tell her. "It seems...acceptable." Even so, he doesn't quite trust the situation yet. "I just wish we knew who was behind all of this."

"I did hear people talking about a Captain." No one present at the party really seems to fit that description though, she she's decided he must not be present. "I don't think that woman with," Effie gestures to her face to mean no face. "You know. I don't think she's in charge."

It does seem important to know who brought them to the ship, and why. But she also worried that investigating could draw too much attention and from her experience, people in power don't like to be questioned. The concern passes across her face for a moment before she catches herself and smiles. "Worries for another time."

He contemplates her statement for a moment. She's partly right, of course. All of the gathering of information against Snow and the Capitol and how to use that information had had to be done without raising suspicions. Being too obvious only led to too much trouble. They'd had to play the game, and they'll have to do the same thing here. Good thing he's good at games.

They also can't afford to completely stop gathering information. They just don't have to be obvious about it. "I suppose you have something else in mind for tonight then."

"I thought we might try having fun for a change," and as silly as that sounds it has been a long time since either one could relax. "It's a party, Haymitch." And for once they're not being forced to watch anyone die. ~~yet.~~

"Maybe make some friends," she suggests.

Effie has always had an easier time having fun than he has, the main reason being that she's had more opportunities for it, and is also more comfortable in situations like that. Making friends hasn't been as easy for him, either, mainly because he had purposely isolated himself in District 12 and he had never cared much for most of the people who lived their whole lives in the Capitol.

"Right. Friends."

She rolls her eyes. Haymitch can be charming and likable when he wants to be, which is admitted something he often actively chooses not to be.

"Don't pretend like I'm your only friend! You're friends with Chaff!" she pauses, searching for another example. "And Peeta." That one probably doesn't technically count and she moves on quickly. "People don't know you here. They're not going to be - "

Effie trails off, knowing that what she means to say is people aren't going to act like they're from the Capitol. It took years for her to realize Haymitch is just an ordinary person who experienced an extraordinary tragedy. She still has to remind herself that he can't turn that part of himself off just because they're far away from it.

"I just think people are going to like you," she finishes hastily.

He could point out that Chaff and Peeta had both been through the same thing he had, which had given them not only shared perspectives but had meant that no one had to explain anything when certain topics were avoided. He doesn't have to, though, because she seems to realize that herself. Friendships are one of the many things he's not used to cultivating.

"You might be the only one who thinks that."