Roland grunts. "'S one word for it." The wig gets tossed aside, hopefully well out of the range of those red tendrils. "Had enough of living machines for one lifetime. If you can figure out what to do with this you can have a bird." He tosses a stencil toward Tony of a bird in flight, then goes poking at the rest of the items. He comes up with a tin of powder and a sponge with a wooden handle, and holds them up for inspection.

"This is what women use on their faces, isn't it? Unless you'd prefer another color." His right hand has no index or middle finger with which to point so he waves it instead, indicating the other tins and jars and boxes. There are many other colors. There is every other color. He would doubt that most of this is actually used to make up anyone's face, if this weren't Panem.