Cinna was a man of simple taste. He wasn't usually picky about his own appearance.
There was just one thing he absolutely had to have at all times.
His golden eyeliner.
He'd even wrote a song about it, and he sang it daily to himself.
"Oh, you sparkle,
Like the dying sun
You're my eyeliner
And I love you, hon
Styling people all day long
You line my eyes
You give me flair
You even match my underwear
So golden pencil, tube of shine
I am so happy you are mine."
It was his precious song, the thing that kept him smiling and the thing that he always did if he thought that nobody was listening.
One day, he thought wrong.
He was heating a straightening iron for Katniss, and he thought that she was still being bathed next door. So he broke into his song.
It made his heart soar and he lifted his eyeliner from his skinny jeans. Gazing at it adoringly, Cinna weighed it in his hand. Lovely, heavy enough, so precious –
"Hahahahaha!" Haymitch was standing in the doorway. " HAHAHAHAH!"
"Get out, you, you're drunk!" blushed Cinna, setting his eyeliner next to the rapidly heating straightening iron
"No, I'm drunk!" yelled Haymitch.
Cinna ran up to the doorway and slammed it shut. He turned back to his eyeliner.
But the bottle had melted, and golden ooze was dripping everywhere.
The world was over.
