I‘m expecting a production meeting in which Plutarch instructs me where to stand and gives me my cue for shooting Snow. Instead, I find myself sent into a room where six people sit around a table. Peeta, Johanna, Beetee, Haymitch, Annie, and Enobaria. They all wear the gray rebel uniforms from 13. No one looks particularly well.
“What‘s this?” I say.
“We‘re not sure,” Haymitch answers. “It appears to be a gathering of the remaining victors.”