the wind has blown but now I know that tomorrow will be kinder -- for playeditwell

[fortherefreshments]

[ Weatherwise, it's not a particularly notable day in District Twelve. The night sky is cloaked in it's usual steely, impenetrable gray and the air has the same chill of a lingering absence.

It's not a practical hour for most when he hobbles to her porch and knocks on the door. He's heard the news earlier in the day, but the timing nor the sobriety sat well with him. While the hour is late, Haymitch knows she's awake and about just as he is. It's a predictability he imagines a child won't change for her-- in fact, it may even enhance the instinct. Impatience gets the best of him and he knocks again, harder, shifting his weight slightly to accommodate the crudely wrapped package under his arm. ]

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[playeditwell]

[She knows that he'll be home soon. Any minute, really. She practically had to force him out a half hour earlier. How many times did she have to reassure him that she'd be okay? That they'd both be okay? She had lost count. But in the end, she had convinced Peeta that her mother would want to be met at the train station. And not by a stranger.

She would have gone herself. Being confined in bed all day had gotten to her. But on that, Peeta had put his foot down. Insisted that the journey would be too taxing.

And besides, it'd mean having to leave her behind. The little girl who had only been born hours earlier. The little girl she's so terrified to let go of.

But she's not all that surprised when she hears the knock at the door. Assuming it to be her mother while Peeta brought their cart round back, she shouts,] It's open.