losing my religion

It was only a matter of time before the victor was captured and thrown into custody by District Thirteen. He had killed many of their soldiers already, protecting himself from what he still saw as a threat. They had to shoot him with two tranquilizers before they could successfully take him down without completely hurting him (though some wanted to very badly.)

The moment Marceline had been informed that Haymitch was among the group of prisoners that was being taken back to District Thirteen, she’d begun preparing herself for the worst. They’d warned her -- told her that he was far from himself, but that hadn’t stopped her from getting her hopes up despite the fact that she’d tried desperately not to. An odd combination of excitement and fear coursed through the therapist as she paced back and forth through her office until a knock sounded throughout the room.

I don’t know, maybe it’s not so bad!

Not so bad? What good can possibly come from this?

Drinking has never been a joke to me, Marcy.

You're right. It is too late.

Yep. I was. Thought it was aaaall over. Then I had to make the stupid decision to go back to Twelve.

Do you even care? Or is this all a joke to you? We could have...we could have tried another shot or something -- anything.

Lana Banana~ Like some?

No, I --

Doooowwwwn the hatch~

Seems I did, so sorry.

Well, you're not even close. You're a few floors off, actually. I'd offer to give you directions, but I'm horrible at it. How about I just escort you down there?

Oh, jesus, I’m - 

No, you're fine. You just...you just surprised me.