LOL. THIS MAKES MY LIFE: (writergal24) "Ever-Ark? I guess Katpee just wasn't radical enough for him, haha." That just. I fell on the floor laughing when I read that. You win twenty gazillion theoretical dollars, my friend.

Willow Nicolina Rose: Yes. We will bring him here, as per your idea. ^_^

K: I miss him, too, haha. Here he is. Also, thank you very much for your very kind comments. :D

I don't own the Hunger Games.

…

(Katniss POV)

I have already learned to tune out the voice of Ajax Lactantius over the past couple of days, and it's only been two days since we filmed the first propo. They've been filming Peeta and me on and off. Whenever they do, though, the two of us have to be standing close to one another. Touching subtly. Giving each other secret smiles. It's easy enough to make me blush, when it comes to Peeta; his stare is so... concentrated.

The first thing I do when I get up is get a phone call from Gale. "Hey, Catnip."

"Hey!" I say, happy to hear his voice. "I can only talk for a bit, but – how are you?"

"Great." He pauses. "You saw the propo?"

I make a gagging sound. "I'm not sure you fooled the rest of the country with that act, Gale."

He laughs. "Whatever. Lira thinks I did perfectly."

I smile a little. "Something going on there?"

I've been his friend for long enough; I can hear the change in his voice when he says her name. That, and I want him to get his mind off me. Still, I won't deny the nervous twinge that definitely came over me when I heard him say her name like that. I understand, I guess, what Peeta and Gale can see in her, but at the same time...

Well, no. That's it. That's all I have to say on the topic.

"What makes you say that?"

"Nothing," I say, visualizing his face heat up. I bite back a sigh, because I want to actually see his face. I miss him, Gale, my best friend. Despite what he... said... I still crave his company.

"How about you? Something going on over there?"

I sigh, because I'm not so stupid as to not know what he's talking about. "Nothing's going on over here, and I know that my acting is bad. Don't pretend that I convinced people for a moment that I -" My voice cracks. I don't want to finish the sentence.

"Oh, but you did. Have you watched it? It's amazing how shy and timid and in love my Catnip is," says Gale. I feel like this is his retaliation for what I've been saying to him.

Rolling my eyes, I mutter, "I hope you're not being serious."

His tone changes to be more serious. "No, I'm serious. You could have fooled me. I didn't even recognize you on there." I replay his voice in my head, trying to figure out if he is being honest. Gale can probably sense the thought that's in the pause, because he says softly, "What's wrong?"

"I feel like Peeta is serious, Gale," I say in a whisper, as if I'm scared that Peeta is right around the corner.

"Huh." It's a sound of surprise. "How do you feel about that?"

The thing is, I don't know. I'm not sure if I'm okay with Peeta being serious. To be honest, I feel a bit scared, wondering if he is.

"Catnip?"

I sigh, glancing at the clock by the phone. "I should go."

"Oh."

"No," I say hastily, guilty that I brushed Gale off like that, "I have a shoot with Ajax in an hour, and the rebels brought in some stylist. Apparently I need at least forty-five minutes with the stylist to be 'usable product' for Ajax."

Gale laughs. "Okay. Say hi to the Mellarks for me."

"Will do. The same for all you soldiers there."

"All right. Bye, Catnip."

I smile wistfully, missing him. "Bye, Gale."

When I turn around, I jump. Peeta's standing there, hands in his pockets. I know he's just gotten there, though. Mostly I'm surprised, because stealth has never been Peeta's strong point. "Gale says hi," I say.

Peeta smiles. "How's he doing?"

"Fine."

He studies me for a moment before saying, "Ajax wants us at the stylists' compartment."

I make a face, which gets a laugh out of him. "You're going to get a makeover, too?"

"Why surprised?" asks Peeta with a small smirk, one that doesn't suit him much, because I don't imagine Peeta as cocky at all. "I'm so good looking you think I don't need one?"

I laugh this time. "No." I save the explanation. I just didn't expect the boy to need a makeover.

We find Tom on the way to the stylists. I smile at the sight of him as he rounds the corner that we're about to go past. "Hey! Little brother. Miss 'niss," he says playfully.

I'd missed Tom the while we'd been away, I realize. I remember seeing him for the first time since we got back – he happily welcomed the hug I'd thrown at him. Alone again with Peeta later, he once again expressed how much he couldn't believe that I liked his brother. There's just something about Tom that makes me forget that we're in a war. I think everyone needs that once in a while.

"How are you two lovebirds doing?" Tom says, throwing an arm around both of us.

I roll my eyes. Peeta coughs awkwardly, and I hold back from shooting him a suspicious look.

"Okay, okay," Tom says through a laugh, "awkward topic. I get it. Nice weather we have today, huh?"

"It's beautiful," I reply, amused. As if I'd seen real weather in the past few days...

"Where are we headed?" he asks, hopping forward and walking backwards so he's facing us but still heading the same direction.

Peeta wrinkles his nose and says, "Katniss and I are being made more beautiful."

"You, I can see why, but my little sister is beautiful as it is," says Tom, skipping back to me and returning to the original position of arm around my shoulders. "Don't you agree, brother?"

I watch Peeta's expression. He pauses. Smiles. "Definitely."

My face heats up. I decide to change the subject. "Where are you headed, Tom?"

"With you guys. I'm bored. I can watch Peeta getting makeup put on," said Tom, grinning wickedly at Peeta.

Peeta gives his brother a dirty look.

The stylist's name is Cinna, who seems to be Ajax's foil. He looks remarkably normal, in fact. He studies Peeta and me when we walk in. "Peeta," he says, after about five seconds of observing, "you can go on ahead. Portia is your stylist. She'll be taking care of you."

"I'll see you in a few," Peeta says to me. "You going to stay here, Tom?"

Tom nods, sitting in one of the chairs and propping his legs up on the coffee table in front of him. Cinna smiles, for the first time, and it accentuates his normalcy. He looks to Tom. "Take care you don't get footprints on my sketchbook, please, Mr. Mellark."

Tom laughs, smiling at both of us. "'Mr. Mellark'. I like you already, Mr..."

"Just 'Cinna' is fine," says the stylist, smiling back. "Katniss, why don't you sit down?"

"Erm, sure," I say reluctantly, sitting down next to Tom. "I thought I have to get ready."

"Yes; yes, you do." Cinna shrugs. "But Ajax is Capitolist. He'll be taking his time."

Tom reaches over to play with the fake flower on the coffee table. He leans back, twirling the plastic stem between his fingers. "Why are you a rebel, Cinna? Couldn't have been an easy choice, coming from the Capitol."

"I was adopted," he replies, leaning over to take his sketchbook. "My parents were extremely Capitolist, following trends and starting them if they could. Around the time I was adopted, one of the trends was..." He frowns, as if trying to figure out a word.

Prompting him, I ask, "What was a trend?"

"Being a philanthropist," says Cinna with a tired exhale. "But I guess you can say that they weren't being truly selfless, since the selflessness was for their own purposes – but I feel deep down my parents meant well. They did love me, gave me everything I wanted, but you can – as it was said a long time ago – take a boy out of the country, but you can't take a country out of the boy. At least. Not entirely. And I've always been sympathetic to the Districts... I didn't want to be kept out of the truth, like most Capitolists do."

I am interested. "Where were you from before? What happened to your parents?"

"District Twelve. I had been alive a year when my father died in a mining accident and my mother a year later from heartbreak."

I stare at him. "Really?"

"Yes. I never knew them, though." Moving on briskly, Cinna moves over to a trunk in the corner of the room, where he takes out a small pile of clothes. "This is what you're wearing."

I eye the clothes. "What is it?"

"Simple but beautiful."

It doesn't really answer my question, but all right.

They let me change in the bathroom, where I am able to study my reflection in the mirror. It is simple but beautiful: simple in the way that I could wear it out in public on average days, but it was still Capitolist. Well, at any rate, I wouldn't have seen anyone from the Seam wearing it.

I finger the skirt, frowning. I try to twirl, but it both feels awkward and is awkward looking. This isn't me. I'm not used to fashion, and glamor, and looking pretty. I exit the bathroom, keeping my head down.

"Oh," says Cinna, holding his arms out to me, as if to give me a hug. "The first thing that I'm going to do is get that hair out of your face."

I look to Tom nervously.

He smiles at me. "You look very beautiful, little sister."

"Thanks," I say.

Tom moves forward, putting a hand on my shoulder. Like the way I imagine a big brother would. He props my chin up. "You have a pretty little face to match, okay? Show it off."

"You know I don't do that," I say dryly.

He shakes his head, grinning at me. "But you should, Miss 'niss."

"Come here," says Cinna. "I'm going to do your hair."

"Wait," I say suddenly. "My mother. I want her to do my hair. You can see what she does, Cinna. You'll like it." Remembering what he'd said earlier, I say, "It's 'simple but beautiful'."

Cinna watches me for a long moment. "Okay. Tom, can you talk to the prep team in the next room and get them to find Katniss' mother? I'll do her makeup in the mean time."

Tom nods, pushing my chin up gently again before going out.

Cinna sets me down on the chair again and sits across from me. Then he starts putting on my makeup.

He does this in silence for a few minutes. I watch him, how his brow furrows in thought in between the face-poking. I can see myself in the mirror that stands opposite from where I'm sitting. I can see the dress, a black top with a floral print skirt. The sandals next to my bare feet. It is simple but beautiful, and it doesn't look right.

"Cinna?" I say, trying not to move my face.

"Yes?"

"My father died in a mining accident."

Cinna smiles sadly. "I heard."

"My mother about died from heartbreak, too," I say, which he'd probably know, if he knew that my father died. "And..."

"It's okay," says Cinna, "you don't need to talk about it."

"Your Capitol parents," I say quietly, "where are they now?"

Cinna pressed his lips together. "They're in the Capitol."

"Oh," I say quietly.

He nods, leaning back. "I begged them to come. Told them that it would be safer in District Thirteen. That the Capitol was going to be attacked, and that the city deserved it, for everything that had been happening to Panem's children... but they were scared."

"I would be, too," I say, "if I were in their place."

Cinna sighs, shrugging. "I tried. Plutarch told me that he'd do whatever he could to protect them, but either way – even if they live – they'll never be the same."

...

"Peeta?"

He gives me a smile. The two of us stand next to Ajax, who is describing the camera-work to some of his cameramen.

It's amazing how different someone can look with a bit of makeup on, along with clothes that nobody around wears. He looks like someone that everyone wants to be friend with, with styled hair, a twinkle in his eye, and a warm smile.

"Yes?" he asks. The answer comes a bit late. I wonder if he was musing about my look the same way I was thinking about his.

I look over at Cinna, who is discussing with Peeta's stylist what our wardrobe should look like.

"I think I'm going to like this stylist."