You disliked Effie Trinket from the moment you saw her.

Her hair was too colorful, her face was powdered to high hell, and she was the very picture of everything wrong with the Capitol. Draped in pink tulle and pearls, acting like it was a grand privilege that you'd been dragged here from your District to die for the citizens' entertainment. She was infinitely better than Drusilla and Magno. But then again, that was a very low bar.

And now you were alone with her. She fluttered about, talking your ear off about how she was going to make you look fabulous for the interviews, holding up different glittering garments in front of you. "...and this is real silk. Have you ever seen silk? You poor District teenagers, not ever getting to experience all this luxury." Her heart-shaped lips turn down into a pitying frown. "I couldn't even imagine..."

But she perks right back up. "Are you hungry? You must try these." She reaches out a perfectly manicured hand to you, and inside it is a pastel-colored cake. Nothing like the one your mother baked for special occasions once or twice a year, with District flour and brown sugar. It just looked expensive, and sweet enough to rot your teeth.

Blue icing, cream, and some kind of berry on top, wrapped in her lace handkerchief. You glower at it, and she blinks, taken aback. "You don't want it? Are you sure? I won't tell Drusilla."