Effie? – What are you doing here? – I’m a political refugee. – Plutarch rescued you? – Rescued, yes, that’s what he calls it. You and I were both in the dark. Now I’m condemned
to this life of jumpsuits. It is wonderful to see you again. Can you believe this place? I miss coffee. I never knew anyplace
could be so strict. I mean,
I thought at least in the higher ranks there’d be some…
side action. I miss my wigs. Luckily, I remembered that this was
all the rage when I was coming up. You know, everything old
can be made new again. Like democracy. Which brings me to this. Cinna. He’s dead, isn’t he? Yes, dear. He made Plutarch promise
not to show you this until you’d decided to be
The Mockingjay on your own. He knew the risks. As we all do. He believed in this revolution. He believed in you. They’re beautiful. They have it. They have the Mockingjay outfit. There’s not much of a prep team
here in 13 but we will make you the best-dressed rebel in history. Okay. Bring up the lights. Cinna’s final touch. Everyone’s either gonna wanna
kiss you, kill you, or be you. Perfect.