It's not a prompt but after the release of those posters, I had to. ^^ So here is a (probably very improbable) story of how Effie came to fashionize (which isn't a word but let's pretend it is) her 13 uniform.

Fashion Icon

"This won't do at all." Effie muttered. The worst thing was that she was only seeing parts of her reflection in the small chipped mirror above the sink. Her blond hair was a tangled mess of curls that fell to a little under her chin, her face bare of make-up was ridiculous with her bleached eyebrows, her lips looked chapped and too pale under the dim neon light. It had been so long since she had seen her bare reflection that her own face felt unnatural. As for the rest of her body, the grey uniform they had given her was unflattering, the pants were baggy and the shirt was a square of fabric that hung as straight as a curtain.

Some impatient knocking on the door was followed by Haymitch's grumpy voice. "How long does it take to put on some pants and a shirt? Stop playing for time and get out of there, Princess."

She would never get out of that bathroom looking like that. It was simply inconceivable.

Her eyes studied the heap of fabric on the floor – there had been no other choice for her beloved dress, there was nothing else in that room but the sink, a shower and a toilet – and she bit her lower lip. There was no point even considering slipping back into her previous outfit, someone would arrest her before she could even leave the living quarters.

"Effie, if you don't get out, I'm leaving." Haymitch threatened.

It was as empty as a threat could get. Katniss, Finnick and Beetee were in the hospital, Plutarch had disappeared with Coin and they had made it quite clear Haymitch wasn't welcomed for the time being. There was no alcohol to find in Thirteen and no one else he knew, given that the refugees from Twelve were still on their way on the rebels' hovercrafts. He simply had no other place to go.

It was time for resourcefulness, she figured, there was no way a fashion icon like herself would be caught dead wearing that, Thirteen or not. First thing first, the pants had to go. She kicked them in a corner quite resentfully and put her grey tights back on. At least they would fit into the color theme of this place. There was a problem though, the shirt was too short to cover what it ought to cover if she planned to go anywhere without her pants.

"Could you lend me your shirt?" she asked through the door.

"What's wrong with yours?" he shot back. The door rattled, he was obviously leaning against the frame.

"Please." she insisted. "I know they gave you a spare one."

She opened the door enough to slip an arm in the gap but made sure Haymitch wouldn't be able to see her. There was a heavy sigh but then her fingers closed around fabric. She snatched the shirt and closed the door.

"What am I supposed to do when my shirt is dirty, sweetheart?" he grumbled.

"The same thing you always do." she retorted. "Pretend you aren't able to smell your own filth."

She didn't lose any second in swapping her shirt for his. It was much better. It fell just low enough to hide anything deemed improper. She had even owned shorter dresses. She rolled the sleeves up to her elbows.

"You're good." Haymitch chuckled darkly behind the door. "I hate you but you're good."

Her lips twitched in amusement. Their banter was strangely comforting, the only familiar thing in this very odd place he had brought her to.

Her outfit was badly in need of a belt. She considered asking him for his but it would go a tad too far. She was looking around for inspiration when she saw her purse with its large strap. She had to fumble for a few seconds but it made for a passable belt. She completely sidestepped the boots that went with the uniform and slipped her copper heels back on. She wouldn't even have known how to walk with flat shoes.

"What's taking you so long?" he insisted.

"My hair." she replied truthfully, eyeing the mass of curls with distaste. Her hair had always been her own personal nightmare. It was untamable on its best days.

"Who cares?" he snorted. "Wait… You're telling me you aren't actually bald? I lost my bet."

"I highly doubt Chaff is going to come back from the dead to collect it." she whispered softly enough he wouldn't hear. Perhaps he heard anyway, the door was thin and he remained silent for a bit too long. Time for a change of topic. "I don't like this President woman."

What to do with her hair… She simply couldn't let people see it. Her pride would never recover. She needed to hide it. Haymitch had been wearing a ridiculous hat since he had fetched her from the room they had parked her in as soon as they had landed but she wasn't a fan of woolen black beanies.

"Nobody does." he offered but there was a dangerous edge to his voice. "You can't say that to just anyone though, sweetheart."

In the privacy of the bathroom, she broke the rules and rolled her eyes. "You are hardly just anyone, now, are you?"

She slipped her various bangles back on her wrists as well as her rings.

"I'm serious, Effie." Haymitch said. "You need to lie low here. I can protect you to an extent but I don't have as much influence as I would like."

"Instead of protecting me, do you think you could endeavor to find me a headscarf?" she asked, quickly securing her hair in a high messy bun at the top of her head.

"A what?" he exclaimed.

"A headscarf. A scarf. A piece of cloth." she enumerated. "I would settle for a hat like yours but as a last resort only."

"Tell me you're kidding me." he requested. The door rattled again. She thought he banged his forehead against the frame in a theatrical and unnecessary show of annoyance.

"Do you have anything better to do?" She tapped her cheeks in hope it would bring a little color. Her make-up was calling her from her purse but she supposed it would be too much. She might be able to get out with her customized – albeit a lot more prettier – uniform but she wouldn't be allowed to wear make-up.

"Sorry, Princess, I think you're mistaking me with one of your stupid boyfriends." he retorted. "You know? The ones who run to satisfy your smallest whim?"

"The quicker you find me a piece of fabric, the quicker I will be out of the bathroom." she pointed out.

There was a second of silence and then a stream of curses and an injunction not to leave her room before he came back. She didn't even leave the bathroom. She waited patiently in front of the mirror, trying to get an idea of what she was looking like.

It took him almost fifteen minutes to come back, he grumbled but he slipped her prize through the half opened door. It was grey just like everything else in this damned place with white geometrical patterns. It was anything but pretty.

"I stole it from the cleaning staff in case you were wondering." he told her through the door. "Cleaning rags."

She inspected it but it looked clean enough so she didn't lose any minute in wrapping it around her head and securing it with a fashionable bow on the top of her head. She triple checked her hair was entirely hidden from view.

"Alright…" she sighed. "I am ready."

"Finally." he snorted. He opened the door without warning and he just stood there and looked at her with a stupid look. He didn't seem to be able to choose between ogling her legs and staring at her face in open disbelief. She felt a blush slowly creeping its way from her cheeks to her throat and without the cover of make-up to hide it, it was as plain as the grey of the wall.

"Laugh away." she suggested, dropping her eyes. She felt naked and it wasn't because of the shirt's length. She was yearning for the protection her make-up and wig usually afforded her.

Her invitation helped him to recover because he blinked a few times and then shook his head in disbelief. "Okay, first… When did you get so hot, sweetheart?" He licked his lips nervously, his eyes openly roamed her body and she flushed harder but for entirely new reasons. "Second – and I can't believe I'm saying this – I'm actually sorry but we can't have your fashion version of a uniform. You need to get rid of the jewelry and the shoes. Put some pants on too."

She folded her arms over her chest in refusal. "I don't feel comfortable wearing this uniform."

"I think you can keep the scarf." he shrugged before flopping down at the end of her narrow single bed.

"I will keep the whole outfit." she huffed, stepping out of the bathroom. Unfortunately, there wasn't much room to go anywhere else than around the bed and she opted for sitting next to him at a loss for what else to do.

"Do you know what 'lying low' means?" he mocked her. "Effie, you walk out of this room looking like that, they will brand you Capitol before you can even take a breath and it's over."

"I am Capitol." she reminded him, jutting her chin in the air. "I am not ashamed of that fact."

"No, you wouldn't be." he sighed, rubbing his eyes. His hands were far from steady, she couldn't help but notice. "Please, at least get rid of the shoes and jewelry."

"But you can barely tell people apart with this ridiculous outfit!" she protested. "I don't want to be like everybody else. I want to be noticed. I want to be special." To her utter shame, she felt tears burning her eyes. "Couldn't you ask them again if they would authorize me to wear my wig and make-up? I don't want to be ugly, Haymitch. I don't think I can bear it."

"You already are special, sweetheart." he offered with more honesty than what she had been expecting. "As for ugly…" He shrugged. "Granted the bleached eyebrows are throwing me off a bit but for the rest… You're fucking hot, Trinket. You don't need those things to be pretty, you're already gorgeous."

She actually had to swallow back the lump in her throat. "Nobody ever said I was pretty looking like this."

"Well, they were stupid or they were blind." he smirked. "Possibly both."

Slowly she felt a smile tug at the corner of her lips. "Careful, Haymitch, it sounds as if you're paying me a compliment."

"You wish. I'm not the one with a crush." he teased.

"I was ten." She would never hear the end of that story. "Besides, I'm not the one eyeing you like a famished dog would eye a juicy bone."

He didn't take the bet, he simply winked. "Not my fault if you turned out to be hot."

Somehow, she thought as they continued to banter, she was sure it was the kind of improper things he would love to repeat incessantly and at the worst possible time.

As it turned out during the following weeks, she wasn't wrong.