The screen fades to black. Katniss shifts uncomfortably in her seat, the remnants of the overly polished propos hanging in the air like a bad aftertaste. No one speaks. The silence stretches, suffocating.

Then President Coin breaks it with a cool, deliberate nod. "it's good — the message will be clear, she thinks. Effective.“

A bitter laugh escapes before I can stop it. Everyone turns to look at me.

"You know.. it’s t interesting — how someone who claims to be the face of a new future can watch that empty, hollow shell of a message and call it good." I gesture toward the screen like it’s still playing. "That wasn’t Katniss," I tell them. "That was just another dressed-up doll repeating lines someone else wrote. Doesn’t matter if the suit's black instead of gold — it’s still Capitol theater."

I glance toward Coin and "I wonder if the difference between you and Snow is just better lighting-"

The room stiffens. Coin’s face doesn’t move much, but there’s something sharp in her eyes. She starts to speak — something about unity, the importance of presentation, how morale depends on symbolism.

I cut her off. "I've heard that before. Only last time, it was from a man who blew up children for the sake of an “important message.” I say, my anger starting to boil. "if this rebellion turns Katniss into a mouthpiece just to manipulate hearts and minds, then maybe we’re not liberating Panem — we’re just changing who gets to hold the leash."

Haymitch is suddenly beside me. His hand clamps down on my shoulder before I can stand. He mutters something under his breath, telling me to breathe, that I’ve made my point. But I can feel the tension in his grip — he doesn’t disagree..