To be fair, you couldn’t blame her for going into momentary shock at the sight of his face. She hadn’t seen him in- what? Just over twenty five years, now. Or, not in person, but she had seen him on television far more than she wanted. She didn’t want to see him if she couldn’t touch him, speak to him… but she could now.
The odd thing was, she was scared. Scared to approach him, scared he wouldn’t remember her, scared he’d found someone else. Bordering on terrified. At age sixteen, she would have laughed at the idea of being scared of Haymitch. Or age fourteen. Or age seven.
But, she supposed, things changed a person. Oh, and with her time in the Capitol, her time away from him, her years ageing by herself, she had changed ore than she should have. So, she thought, had Haymitch himself. He shouldn’t have grown up drunk- he should have grown up a good man, surrounded by people he loved. But a lot of things were wrong in Panem, and that was only one thing of hundreds. And when once Ambrosia would be running straight for Haymitch’s now, she hardly dared to look at him. She wasn’t as strong as she used to be. The last time he had seen her was when she had been crying, and he didn’t want him to see her like that now.
“I thought I’d never see you again, Haymitch.” The brunette finally muttered. He probably didn’t even recognise her.