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Kitty Wiseman was an interesting stylist, to say the very least. Delia hadn't seen or worked with her in years, not since her own games. When the pair was escorted to the tribute building, Kitty was the one who pulled Delia away from Finnick. Delia risked one glance back, giving Finnick a reassuring smile as she was led away. "We have much much work to do, darling!" Kitty chattered, her Capitol accent giving her a high pitched tone.
Delia was led to a small room with a vanity, shower, and long metal table. Kitty talked with a few of her assistants as they took measurements of her body. "...I want a full body waxing, and a hair mask for her. And for heavens sake, do something about those eyebrows. Don't let me see her until I have perfection!" Kitty demanded. She then hastily retreated from the room as her long high heels clicked behind her.
After a four hour long grueling session consisting of wax, masks, and razors, Delia was good as new. Her stylists had tried to convince her to go blonde, but Delia quickly threatened to slit one of their throats with a wax strip. Delia's dark brown hair was from her parents. It was the last piece of them she had. During her last games, the stylists bleached her hair without her permission. Delia now associated her light blonde hair with the multitude of near death experiences in the games. Whatever it took, she would keep it her natural color.
Kitty flounced back into the room. She eyed Delia, stepping back and forth. Delia felt embarrassed as she was once again naked, being poked and prodded at like cattle. Her face was flushed red as she looked away from Kitty. Kitty was taking her time, as she paced around Delia's bare body. "I can see why you were a Capitol favorite, darling," Kitty snickered.
Delia's face fell. Her stylist wasn't ever really nice to her to begin with, but so vindictive early on? Did the people in the Capitol truly hate the Districts so much? Delia stepped off the platform and shrugged on her dressing gown. Kitty frowned and walked over to her. "I didn't say you were done."
"The Capitol did, many years ago. They said I was done with all of this," Delia shot back, "Yet here I am. I survived the first games barely, so we both know I won't be living through the second games. And is there anything more dangerous than a girl with nothing to lose?" Delia began to stalk towards Kitty, who looked terrified.
"They can't let me die until they can televise it in an arena," Delia told her, "But you? Who would notice if a little upstart fashion designer assigned to District Four got killed? I certainly wouldn't." Delia leaned forward, glaring at Kitty.
The woman fled from the room so fast her orange wig went flying off.
🐚
"I heard you scared your designer half to death," a voice spoke from behind her. Delia had been so busy petting one of the horses meant to pull them that she didn't notice Finnick behind her. She turned around, immediately met with his bare chest.
