Chapter Text
Rule One:
It was on their train ride back to District Twelve that Haymitch, sat Peeta and I down. Supposedly it was to prepare us for becoming Mentors for the next tributes for the Games. But in reality it was something more, in hushed tones in between a louder belch peppered lecture on making contacts and influencing people that Haymitch filled us in on just what it was really like being a Hunger Games victor.
"One:
Don't congratulate the most recent victor for their win. Ever. They didn't win. They survived. Just like you, just like everyone else who went into the arena and came back out again. By congratulating them, you're just making their pain worse."
Peeta and I exchanged a glance, his blue eyes meeting my grey. "That makes sense, I suppose," Peeta said, his voice on the other hand sounded uncertain.
Haymitch just looked at him sadly. "You don't really get it do you?"
"He didn't have to kill anyone," I whispered.
"I killed that girl, the foxfaced one!" he protested.
"But you didn't mean to, kid," Haymitch stated flatly. "Princess here looked into the eyes of the tributes she killed and decided that her life was worth more than theirs. So she killed them."
"Hey! They were trying to kill me too!" I defended myself. Then I thought about Rue and Thresh. Would I have killed them if it came down to me and them? I wanted to say no. But I honestly don't know, and I was glad that I didn't have to make that choice in the long run.
"Doesn't mean that you didn't make a choice. It's the choice that all of us had to make other than Breadboy here."
"Fine, so I didn't kill anyone intentionally, but that doesn't mean that I don't feel like crap over the girl from Five's death."
Haymitch nodded. "And that's why we don't congratulate the other victors."