So this is the mysterious 'Crym', I thought, looking her over. She certainly looked like a Stylist; her bi-colored hair was cut into rough spikes, and her dark leather outfit had the same sort of flair. She moved forward, combat boots clicking as she began to circle me. I felt strangely self-conscious as I realized I was being assessed, probably on how appealing I would be to the hordes and what could be done to make me even more so. I ran a hand through my blonde hair awkwardly, not sure if I should say or do something, or whether to stay how I was. I went with the latter.

"Alright, Mister Everdeen," She said, coming to a halt in front of me. She had closed the gap between us and now stood so near to me, I could just barely feel her breath on my face. She was a lot shorter than me, but as I looked down into her grey-green eyes, they almost seemed...crazy, in a sense. "Are you ready for the biggest make-over of your life?" One dark, perfectly-plucked eyebrow quirked upwards, and again I got the slight aura of insanity from her. I shrugged,

"Well, I guess. Although I've never been made over before." Crym just stared at me for a moment, eyebrow still high and eyes still wide. Then she burst into loud, warm laughter, slapping my shoulder in a friendly way.

"Aha, a joker, eh? I like you, Finnick," She grinned, stepping back, and I released a small intake of breath I hadn't known I was holding. "Come on then, Finnick-"

"You can call me Finn."

"I prefer Finnick. Come on, Finnick, let's go get you some new clothes." I didn't move, a little unsure. I was standing in a room bathed in light, in a place I had never been before. Naturally I was wary, although for what reason I wasn't sure. "Come on, lazy bones!" exclaimed Crym, grabbing my arm. I found myself being dragged behind her as she led me through yet another door, although the room I walked into this time was much smaller. Or maybe it was the same size. I couldn't tell due to the fact it was filled to the brink with clothes. Shirts, ties, pants, dresses, shoes, skirts and anything else you could possibly wear. There was everything in there, from the simplest to the grandest, the sparkly to the plain. It made my pathetic, twelfth-hand clothing look like kitchen rags.

"Ooooh, he's here!"

"Yayy! Make-over time!"

"Let's get this boy dressed!"

Almost as soon as I walked in, these voices traveled through the rows upon rows of clothing. A moment later, a man and two women stood in front of us, grins on their faces. Crym took a step toward them, smiling, "Finnick, I would like you to meet your Styling team. Styling team, meet Finnick Everdeen."

"Nice to meet you, Finnick!" The tall, lanky male with pale blonde hair greeted, grin widening. He only looked a year or two older than myself - probably the same age as Gaia - but the clarity of his skin and quality of his look told me he had lived a much softer life.

A dark-skinned woman stepped forward next, raking her eyes up and down me in a not-so-subtle way. "Damn boy, you good looking," She commented frankly, and I felt my cheeks go hot. In a way, this woman looked like an older version of Dina. Her chunky figure and bleached-blonde hair, however, told me differently.

"You two have no manners," The final girl scolded them playfully. She looked older than the other two, who were still quite young, but despite the small lines in her face she was pretty, with deep brown hair and electric green eyes. I wasn't entirely sure if that last feature was real, though. "I'm Gloria," She introduced herself, then gestured to the other two, "And this is Lafayette and Delaware."

"I prefer to be called Dellie."

"And I'm Laffy." Delaware and Lafayette cut in, before being dragged back into place at her side by Gloria. I grinned at them.

"As long as you don't mind just calling me Finn, I'm fine with whatever nickname you have." Their grins somehow widened even more, and I felt my spirits being lifted a little. They were so bright, so energetic, so...innocent. I was reminded of Tinker Finkel and how oblivious she was to the world outside the Capitol. My morale went down a little again.

"Alright, alright, enough with the introductions," interrupted Crym, "We've got a make-over to do, don't we? You three have seen the design I came up with; go get some material and get to work." They nodded abruptly, rushing off to follow her instructions. The Stylist then turned to me, "And you'll be coming with me. That hair? Absolutely horrible."

"Hey! I like my hair."

"I've never seen a scruffier 'do in my life," She said, laughing lightly as I pulled at my hair self-consciously. I really hadn't thought it was that bad...I had certainly seen worse back home. But it mustn't have been up to standard for the Capitol, because before I knew it, I was sat in a chair, the snip-snip of scissors ringing in my ears. I watched several blonde locks fall to the ground, but not as many as I thought I would see. "Girls in the Capitol like long hair," Crym explained, almost reading my mind, "It's seems to be the new trend." She didn't sound too approving of it herself, but nevertheless kept my hair at it's previous length, around my jaw. However it did have a significant amount of style in it after she was done, although the only difference I felt was the fact it no longer fell in my eyes as much.

After cutting my hair, she then proceeded to do a collection of things which to me, really didn't matter. Wiping my face and putting some weird powder on it, which I immediately tried to wipe off again. That earned me a smack on the back of my hand. Then she started plucking my eyebrows, which I winced and whined my way through. I got the feeling Crym was starting to lose her patience after I knocked the pen she was using to line my eyes out of her hand for the fifth time ("Good, I just finished anyway"), but just then Laffy, Dellie and Gloria happened to burst in. They were bustling, arms filled with dark fabric.

"Great, you three are here!" called Crym over the noise of their clumsy steps, moving to help them set down the clothes. Unfortunately, it was at that moment the three Stylists happened to see me, and dropped everything they were carry - right on Crym's head, may I add.

"Oh my god."

"Finn! You look amazing!"

"You're just...wow!"

They rushed toward me, eyes wide and in my face as they ran their hands over my hair, cheeks, eyebrows, anywhere they thought a change had happened. I wasn't used to this much attention, let alone physical contact, so I was thankful when Crym announced, "Alright guys, back off! You'll ruin all my hard-fought for work. And I mean that literally," She pushed through them, staring at me for a second, obviously checking to see if anything had been messed up. Satisfied it all still looked decent, she pulled me roughly out of my seat, turning to the Stylist team.

"I'm going to warn you now, Finn. These three are the most precise group of fasionista's I have ever met. They're all perfectionists, every last one of them. They won't stop until you look perfect. So keep your patience, okay?" She slapped my arm again, although this time it seemed to be more for motivation, and the three took my arms, dragging me back into the first, light-bathed room.

A moment later, as I was being stripped of my torn and patched clothes and being scolded in the horrible state I was in, I realized Crym hadn't been kidding. I should have been ready for the biggest make-over of my life.