THG: Aftermath: pre arena flashback

Knocking on Haymitch's door. I remember my hand shaking. I didn't expect him to come to the door. He was likely drinking. The news wasn't good. We had a 50/50 shot of being picked but I was determined to fix that. He was no good to us in the arena.
"S'open..."
I walked in.
He laughed, sarcastic, "Figured it was you. She wouldn't have knocked."
I stopped then, looking at him and him looking at me across the room. Doom closing in around us. It might be 50/50 between either of us getting selected but she was going. There was no one else, "How can I keep her alive?" I asked him.
"This again?" he said.
I walked towards his table and put my hands on it to keep steady, "Of course, this again. I only got out last time because of her..."
Last time, though...last time I was terrified. Last time. Last time I didn't think I could do anything except maybe help people like her enough to get sponsors and perhaps last a few days in the arena a week at most. There was no way I thought I would be here now.
Haymitch snorted.
"...well, that and whatever else you were doing, but no matter that you were not in there with us."
He took a long swig of whatever he was drinking, "Fair enough."
"You are more use to us out here than in there. You have contacts. You have all sorts of people. I have none of that. So, if I get called let it go. If you get called I'll volunteer for you."
"Peeta..."
"What?" I said, "You know that's how it has to go. You know that's what you were going to tell me, isn't it? Katniss has to live. She has to, and you can make that happen from out here. I can't."
"That's true." He said, "and you might be able to help stop the games from up there, and I sure as hell can't. I am not a pretty talker. I do not have a way with words."
"What do you mean?"
"Sit down, boy." He dropped onto the couch, "You're making me nervous."
I sat down in the chair at the table nearest the couch, facing him, right arm resting on the table.
"You know how pissed you feel right now? Imagine how pissed the other victors feel. They've been living off the Capitol for years now, some of them have even had it pretty good. They sure as hell don't want to go back into the arena and have to fight to the death." He paused, "Though I can think of a couple who might volunteer for much less noble reasons than you."
"Everything's upset already..." I tell him, "...it's a powder keg out there. The tour. Snow..."
"True." He says, "But I guarantee you. No-one else going up for tribute wants these games."
"But--"
"They might want to kill other people...but they don't want to die and there are some who'll get drawn who have just as much of a grudge against Snow as we do."

THG: Train

I bang on the door, "Mr. Abernathy!"
"Go away!"
"We need you to help us."
"Kid."
"I'm not leaving!"
The door slides open, "You're not kidding, are you?"
"No. I'm not. We--she needs your help."
He cocks his head to one side.
"She's amazing with a bow and arrow. She able to hide and lay in weight for prey. A true hunter. She stands a real chance. Unlike me. She's got skills."
He leans his head against the door frame, with a cock-eyed grin, "You got it bad for her, huh?"
"I don't..."
"But you got some skills."
"What do you mean?"
"You got me to see something in her. What else can you get me to see in her?" he moves away from the door and lets me into the room.
"What do you mean?"
"Well, right now, your esteemed fellow tribute is a cold-hearted bitch whose only redeeming quality is that she volunteered to save her sister's life. So, sit, sit. Tell me, what else is there?" He wave a hand that held a glass of some dark amber liquid, expertly not spilling anything, "Other than what you said about the hunting thing."
I chew on my lip, thinking carefully, "She's tough, persistant, a hard-worker. She always does things to the best she can, the fullest of her ability. She goes into things determined to succeed and she pretty much does. She's taken care of her family for years...her mother, her sister, since the mine blew up and her father died. They wouldn't be alive if it wasn't for her."
"Really?" Haymitch leans back, "You know all this? Twelve isn't that small."
"No, but my family runs a shop. People talk, especially in the Merchant district, and...my father would trade for her squirrels some times."
"Uh-huh." He says, scratching his chin, "Alright. You've got a deal. There might actually be something I can work with here, for once. I'll stay sober enough to give you guys pointers, and you will help with..." he waves his hand around again, "...the crowd. Maybe you can get her to warm up to this the way you've enlightened me to her...saving graces."
"I don't know."
He raises an eyebrow at me, "Hey, I'm agreeing to be so--to cut back. You will take a bullet on this one too. We've only got a short amount of time and if you're so determined to die out there lets at least get her on her way before you do. Deal?" he offers me his hand to shake.
I shake it, "Deal."
"Now," He walks me towards the door, "Get outta here. Be up early and we'll start talking things through. I still have some things...to work through myself."
I try not to look at the collection of bottles in his cabinet and on his dresser as I walk out. I'm offering to help Katniss survive...but she has to live afterwards. I just have to...not die in an embarrassing way and actually be useful before I do so. Is that really better?